Jeff didn’t bother to answer, just nodded and ran back toward the van.
I looked at the sky, my watch, calculated we had half an hour before the sun rose and we were all fried to a crisp.
The dragon launched again, this time managed to stay airborne on the flight between the planetarium and Shedd Aquarium. As it landed, I could just make out the silhouette of Sorcha on its back, planted at the base of its neck like a cowboy, her blond hair flying.
The dragon landed atop the aquarium’s pointed dome, sending tiles streaming down the sides, where they crashed on the ground.
And then it turned our way.
“I got this,” Catcher said, pulling in enough power to make sparks fly across his skin. “Come at me, you asshole.”
It pushed off, buckling the dome and sending stone and steel flying. Water splashed into the air as it burst the tanks below. The dragon shrieked and trained its reptilian eyes on us, squawking as it dipped into a deep descent.
After a moment, Catcher held out his hand, the blue spark glowing into an orb. He wound up, pitched it forward, and it streaked like a star across the night. It hit the dragon’s driver’s side haunch. But instead of wounding him, digging into scales and flesh, it rebounded at an angle, launching back at us nearly as quickly as he’d thrown it.
“Hit the deck!” Catcher yelled, dragging the hem of my shirt to pull me to the ground.
The fireball flew above our heads, exploded behind us. We looked up at the smoke pouring from a window in the aquarium building.
“Shit,” Catcher said. “I guess that’s not going to work.”
“What the hell happened?” I asked.
“The scales are reflective,” Catcher said. “Magic bounces off.”
It may not have been hurt, but the fireball didn’t do anything for its attitude, either. YOU CANNOT HURT ME.
It was less a sound than a rumbling in the air, a deep bass note somehow split into words that we could understand.
“Holy shit,” Lindsey said, staring openmouthed at the flying lizard that was circling above us, looking for a spot to land. “Tell me someone else heard that.”
“Say hello to the Egregore,” Ethan said, and glanced at Catcher. “What do we do now?”
“Maybe we can’t hurt the dragon with fireballs,” Catcher said. “But we can hurt the rider.”
I could tell he was getting tired. His form wasn’t as good, his shots not quite on target. But the dragon, even if protected from the fire, was skittish enough. It shrieked at the exploding sparks, turned directly into one of Catcher’s blasts.
The shot hit Sorcha in the leg, and she screamed in furious pain. The dragon screamed with her, and we covered our ears at the horrible, grating sound. Then it flapped its wings, lifted into the air, and disappeared into fading darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SCALES OF JUSTICE
We’d rushed the dawn, made it back to the House in time to seal the door before sunlight speared across the yard.
We woke to find the city had thawed, and no reports of further delusions, at least according to the Tribune. On the other hand, in addition to temporarily freezing the city, Sorcha had killed a sorcerer. She’d created a dragon that had killed two humans and injured five downtown, not to mention the near destruction of two of the city’s favorite buildings.
We hadn’t managed to do anything but goad Sorcha into finishing what she’d intended to do all along—create her brand-new flying weapon.