“Continue with the mission,” Grant shouted to the separated members of his squad. Irritation burned in his eyes when they landed on me, and I fought against the urge to hunch away from him. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know he cursed my presence. If not for me, the team would never have been divided and the murderer wouldn’t have gained another hour’s lead on them.

  “Everyone, move out.”

  Seradon shouldered her pack and resumed her place in the lead. I lingered, staring at the only known way out of the cursed labyrinth, now an impassable jumble of limestone. The appropriate emotion in this instance would have been dread or despair. Instead, excitement fizzled in my gut. I couldn’t do anything about the obstructed escape route, but I might be able to do something to further my quest for an unparalleled story.

  All I had to do was navigate a convoluted maze designed to annihilate trespassers and locate a firebird that may or may not be in the possession of an insane blood-magic murderer.

  And survive, of course. Survival was paramount.

  My inauspicious checklist dampened the effervescent excitement building in my stomach but couldn’t completely stamp it out. Squaring my shoulders, I strode after Seradon, ignoring Grant’s scowl.

  We retraced our steps to the location of the cobra’s attack, then proceeded more cautiously through uncharted labyrinth passageways. I lost all sense of direction almost immediately. The sun had sunk low on the horizon behind the towering trees surrounding the ruins. Without the bright rays splashed across the upper reaches of the canyon, and with the ribbon of sky above us a uniform cobalt, I couldn’t determine east from west. The labyrinth itself provided few points of reference, with every corridor composed of variations of the same beige and russet striations and the stone floors uniformly smooth. No handy rock formations denoted passageways; no tall trees served as guideposts. Not even the traps could be relied on as markers, since once they were activated and destroyed, they disappeared, as the cobra had proven. Grant scratched marks into the walls at every intersection, but when we encountered dead ends and were forced to backtrack, those marks had always mysteriously vanished. The best form of navigation we possessed was the sketch of our route Grant made in his notebook. The map gave me hope that we weren’t being fooled into traveling repeatedly through the same canyons. However, I couldn’t help but wish it showed us where we were going, not where we had been.

  “Until you find that story of a lifetime and move on to some new diversion, you need to stop treating this like a game,” Grant said, breaking the silence as we trekked down a long empty corridor.

  “What?” Where had he gotten the idea I thought this was a game? Or a diversion?

  “Look at what real journalists are doing.”

  “Real journalists?” I sputtered.

  “Like the guy who talked to us about the murder—that’s all he did: question us.” Anger seeped into Grant’s tone. “He didn’t try to insert himself into our investigation, didn’t try to follow me around, and he was smart enough to stay clear of Lunacy.”

  Seriously? He wanted to lecture me on how to do my job?

  “If I didn’t think it would hurt my hand more than your jaw, I’d give you the punch that comment deserves.” A ghost of the lynx’s magic pinched my shoulders. I didn’t often resort to violence, but being compared to Nathan—and found lacking!—charged my words with the flavor of truth. “And for the last time, I did not ‘insert’ myself into your investigation. You’re here because the ward is down. So am I. Zipporah must have figured out this was her only chance to snag the Chiefmaker, and she plunked me down in here because I’m expendable.” Sooth’s magic lashed me, and I tripped. Through gritted teeth, I amended, “To her. Expendable to her.” The pain evaporated, giving free rein to my boiling outrage. “While I’m at it, let’s clear up one final thing: I don’t want to follow you around.”

  A whip crack split across my spine, and I shoved my fists into my pockets and locked my jaw to hide my flinch.

  Seradon cast a sympathetic glance in my direction. “Grant’s gotten into the habit of looking for you wherever we go,” she said. “I think he misses you when you’re not around.”

  “Hardly,” Grant snapped.

  Sooth hissed at him. The captain’s face remained stoic, but that had to have hurt. Even my lies hadn’t gotten such a large reaction out of the lynx. I picked up my pace, mildly mollified, though the image of Grant expecting to find me trailing along at his heels like a puppy irked my pride.

  At the next fork in the labyrinth, Sooth shied away from the right branch. Both routes appeared identical to the naked eye, but the lynx had sensed an untruth. I scanned the walls, inspecting them for shadows that didn’t belong. Grant stooped to collect pebbles, then tossed them down the right branch. They clattered harmlessly off the walls, but instead of hitting the canyon floor, they disappeared through it. We all stilled, straining to listen. Several seconds passed before the pebbles hit the bottom of the disguised hole. I studied the canyon floor, searching for the seam between real and illusionary rock. I couldn’t find it. Without the lynx, I wouldn’t have suspected an illusion existed.

  We took the left branch.

  “Owing Zipporah is not the sort of problem you can make go away with a wave of your hand,” Grant said, as if picking up a paused conversation.

  “I never thought it was.”

  “No one is going to swoop in and save you, princess.”

  “Clearly.” Princess? When had I gotten upgraded from “pain-in-the-ass reporter”?

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were indebted to the harpy?”

  “You mean, so you could have told me sooner that you weren’t going to ‘swoop in and save me’?”

  Seradon’s cough sounded suspiciously like laughter. I soothed my fingers across Quinn’s forehead when I wanted to ball them into a fist. Why was Grant being such a jerk?

  “You lied to me,” Grant growled.

  His menacing tone sent a shiver down my spine, but I rolled my eyes and pretended to be unaffected. “I did not.”

  Everyone eyed Sooth, but she didn’t break her stride, and not even a tingle of her magic prickled my skin. Good, because I hadn’t lied; I had omitted a detail and let Grant believe what he wanted to.

  “Besides,” I said, unable to resist goading Grant, “I wanted to wait to tell you until we were trapped together so you could lecture me about my stupidity. It didn’t seem fair to tell you when I could walk away.” Sooth hissed, but the sting of her magic was worth it when I caught a glimpse of Grant’s thunderous expression. Seradon shook her head at my foolishness.

  The next intersection of the labyrinth was in sight when Sooth planted her feet and refused to advance. No discernible trap lurked in the bland corridor, but as the invisible hole had proved, the blood-magic illusions had lost none of their strength over the centuries. Anything could be lying in wait for us.

  “Do we go back, Captain?” Seradon asked.

  Grant consulted his sketched map. “We’ve exhausted every open route. Unless we want to attempt to climb the avalanche again, we either need to go forward here or through one of the other illusions.”

  “I think this is our best option.” It was the first time Quinn had spoken since we had been forced to venture deeper into Lunacy. I had been worried he was in too much pain to talk, but his voice sounded unstrained. A pinch of tension eased from my shoulders.

  “Explain,” Grant said.

  “The other routes we bypassed were single canyons. This one leads to an intersection with five openings. We’re more likely to find a path that goes somewhere useful if we go forward here.”

  “How do you know how many pathways are up ahead?” I asked.

  “Did you memorize the labyrinth when you flew over?” Grant asked on top of my question.

  “Not all of it, but I remember this part.”

  Seradon shot me a surprised glance, and I shrugged. I had no idea Quinn possessed such an impressive memory.

  “Are you able to keep a map of where we’ve been in your head?” Grant asked Quinn.

  “Can’t you?”

  Grant squatted and showed Quinn his sketched map. The young gargoyle studied it, then tapped two shaded lines. “These were more curved. If we hadn’t run into illusions here and here, we probably would have been able to connect these. This one”—he traced along a sinuous line—“I remember from above, because it looks like Oliver’s spine.”

  Once he pointed it out, I recognized the shape of a Chinese dragon’s undulating body, complete with dead-end branches that looked like spikes.

  Grant sat back on his heels and made the corrections Quinn had indicated, adding notes to his map. “You are a gargoyle of surprising talents,” he said, standing. “Forward it is.”

  Quinn smiled with just his lips, looking pleased with himself.

  Seradon passed Sooth’s leash to me. The small cat crept closer to Quinn and sniffed the tip of his bound wing, then his belly, and when she grew bolder, the underside of his chin. When Sooth lifted an oversize paw as if to touch Quinn’s muzzle, he released a warning growl. The gargoyle could have easily swallowed the lynx to her shoulders, if he were so inclined, but Sooth appeared unafraid. Giving her whiskers a dismissive twitch, she sat and pretended to be absorbed in cleaning her raised paw. Quinn rolled his eyes.

  Grant and Seradon collected pebbles to toss out as bait for the trap. Grant’s stones skipped off the rocky floor of the canyon, proving the ground wasn’t an illusion. Seradon’s stones flew higher, triggering nothing.

  “Stay back until I give the all clear,” Grant said.

  I nodded, apprehension shortening my breath.

  Grant and Seradon unsheathed long knives and shifted to either side of the canyon before easing forward. I barely breathed as I watched them, waiting for the nefarious trap to spring.

  A ragged, limestone-colored shape separated from the canyon above their heads and dropped soundlessly in front of Seradon. As it straightened, the illusion peeled away, revealing a monster. Naked, vaguely humanoid with a massive triangular bat’s head, the creature stood taller than Grant on angular, muscled legs. Coarse black hair matted its slender torso and neck, and scythe-like claws extended from its fingertips. When it raised its fists high and released an ear-piercing shriek, it revealed wicked fangs and leathery bat wings flaring from the undersides of its arms.

  A camazotz.

  I knew of the vicious, bloodthirsty creatures only by reputation and rumors. It was said their favorite attack strategy was to strike a prey’s jugular and bleed them dry. As an added bonus, this one appeared to be rabid, with foaming saliva trailing down its chest and a sheen of red glistening across its irises.

  The camazotz crouched, focusing past Grant and Seradon to lock its malevolent gaze upon me, the obvious prey.

  “Eyes up front,” Seradon barked, waving her arms to get the monster’s attention. It spun toward her, lashing out with a long, claw-tipped wing. Seradon jumped aside, leaving an opening for Grant. He surged forward and jabbed the camazotz’s chest with his knife. The enormous man-bat nimbly evaded, using its longer reach to slice at Grant’s neck. The captain dropped and rolled, avoiding the blow by mere inches. As if they had practiced it, Seradon leapt over Grant and attacked with a flurry of knife strikes, driving the camazotz back two steps before it knocked her aside with a brutal kick to her hip.

  Grant sprang to his feet, a knife in each hand, and charged. He struck with almost inhuman speed, his blades flashing in silvery blurs, but the camazotz was just as fast. Slashing with claws and teeth, it fought with animalistic ferocity, unheeding of the cuts Grant opened in its arms and chest. The corridor filled with the sounds of grunts and gnashing teeth and the scrape of feet and wings. I strained to keep track of Grant, marveling at his speed and skill even as I worried it wouldn’t be enough.

  Seradon stood at the edge of the fight, tensed, ready to leap in. The canyon wasn’t wide enough for her and Grant to physically attack in tandem, but that didn’t stop her from raining tiny flames down upon the camazotz’s chest. The beast shrieked as its hair caught on fire. The sound splintered my eardrums, and I clapped my hands over my ears. Quinn and Sooth cried out in the same tortured octave, their ears flattened to their scalps.

  The camazotz slapped out the flames, battering Grant with its wings. He ducked out of range, pivoting low behind the camazotz to hamstring it. Too fast, the camazotz leapt aside, its wings carrying it twice as far as a normal jump. Grant lunged after it. My fingernails dug crescents into my palm when the camazotz twisted midair to rake its claws across Grant’s bicep. The captain struck back, his knife slicing deep into the tendon of the camazotz’s right wing. The appendage flopped to the monster’s side, and its keening wail ricocheted through the canyon, pummeling my eardrums. Flailing, it drove Grant back.

  “Heart,” Seradon barked. Suiting action to words, she sprinted past Grant and rammed her knife hilt deep into the monster’s chest. Momentum carried her beneath the camazotz’s retaliatory bite. Grant flowed after her like a shadow, catching the camazotz’s arm before its desperate clawing could scratch Seradon. With quick, efficient slashes, he rendered the second wing useless.

  The camazotz floundered and toppled. As it hit the ground, it disintegrated into oily black smoke that started at its toes and eroded its way up the camazotz’s body. Seradon slumped to brace her fists against her knees, breathing hard. Grant sidestepped away from the smoke and examined his knives. They glinted silver in the shadowy canyon light, untainted by blood despite the recent battle. It wasn’t until he sheathed them that I let out a pent-up breath and loosened my death grip on the leash. Flexing my fingers, I encouraged blood back into the cramped digits.

  Seradon started to gesture toward me when the camazotz’s head detached from its smoking body and floated into the air. As it rose, its pointy black ears lengthened into wings, and a fresh row of teeth sprouted in its mouth.

  “A chonchon? You’ve got to be kidding me,” Seradon exclaimed.

  The chonchon pivoted, turning to lock its bloodred eyes on me once again. Icy terror spurted through my veins, and my feet rooted to the canyon floor.

  “Sooth, no!”

  At Quinn’s shout, I tore my gaze from the horrifying head in time to see Sooth charge back into the labyrinth. The gargoyle spun, pouncing on the trailing leash. Sooth slammed against the harness, her momentum carrying her into the air before she crashed to the ground.

  The hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end, and I whirled toward the monster. The enormous bat head—the chonchon—sailed high over Seradon and Grant, evading them to spear toward me.

  I didn’t think. I simply reacted. Seizing every ounce of magic from Quinn’s offered boost, I erected an earth shield and slammed it into place in time to deflect the chonchon’s snapping jaws. Undeterred, it flung itself at my shield again, a grotesque tongue twice as long as its jaws sliming my magic. The chonchon’s rancid breath washed over me, and I gagged. When licking and biting didn’t penetrate my barrier, the chonchon circled me, mouth agape, scraping its fangs across my shield. My magic shuddered and bucked, and I cowered behind the fragile elemental ward, wishing I knew offensive spells or even had a blade. Seradon and Grant had to be close. They would save—

  My shield imploded. One moment it encased me; the next it crushed me. My knees slammed to the granite. The shield’s weight smashed into me, as if the earth in my spell had solidified into rock. I crumpled forward, neck kinked until my forehead pressed against my knees. Pain erupted in my hand. I had braced it beside me when I fell, and my deformed magic pulverized it, pulverized all of me, squeezing me tighter—tighter.

  I fought the shield, shoving against it with my bones and muscle and elemental strength, but my efforts only seemed to magnify its power. My ribs compressed against my thighs, squeezing my lungs flat, and fiery pain seared my spine. Black spots stabbed my vision.

  Quinn’s enhancement evaporated, crippling my defensive efforts. I scrambled for more magic, not recognizing the slackening of pressure until I wheezed in a thimbleful of air.

  With the trickle of oxygen came a modicum of intelligence, and I surrendered my hold on the elements. The traitorous shield evaporated. I collapsed to my side, then rolled onto my back, sucking in lungsful of air.

  The chonchon dove for my exposed throat, jaws agape.

  I flung up my forearms in a futile attempt to block its lethal bite. Quinn lunged across the canyon, too far away and too slow. Then Sooth shot out from behind him. She sprang to Quinn’s back and launched through the sky to sink her claws into the chonchon’s scalp. A flash of silver arrowed through the air, piercing the chonchon’s eye. The bat-head creature released a truncated screech, then dissolved into smoke. The knife clattered to the ground beside me. The lynx dropped to my stomach, punching the air from my lungs with her massive paws before shoving off.

  Moaning, I curled around my stomach and gasped for air all over again.

  Seradon slid to a stop beside me, snatching the lynx’s leash from the ground. “That went to splinters fast.”

  13

  “Are you all right?” Grant asked.

  I rolled my head to the side, surprised to find him kneeling close enough to touch.

  “Never better,” I quipped, then cursed when Sooth’s magic flayed my skin.

  “Is anything broken?” Quinn shoved his nose against mine, making my vision go cross-eyed. Grant tugged him back a few inches, bringing the worried gargoyle into focus.

  “I don’t think so.” I curled my fingers, pleased they each responded with only nominal tenderness. Gingerly, I tested my limbs. I was sore, but flexing didn’t elicit any sharp pains. “I’m more resilient than I look.”