“She's picking us off again,” Cerberus snarled. “Fucking chickenshit move.”
“Cer!” I grabbed his bicep and pulled him back before he stepped on a bright yellow flower.
“What the fuck, El? It's just a flower.”
“You really think that's just a flower after the toad and bird?” I shot back.
“It's not,” Odin confirmed my suspicions. “Stand back, Cerberus. That's a dandy-lion.”
“A dandelion?” Cerberus asked in bafflement. “You wanna make a wish?”
“Not a dandelion, a dandy lion,” Odin separated the words as he did the same trick with the flower that he had with the toadstool. Then he looked around to announce, “Beware of dandy—”
A roar cut him off.
“Lions,” Odin finished with a grimace and then ran in the direction of the roar.
I ran after Odin. Just a few feet away, a group of witches had formed a line, their hands lifted and glowing. The glow shot out from them and struck a lion. Yep, a lion. It was a normal lion size, with a lion's mane and golden-brown fur. The only unusual thing about it was the fact that it was there and that it used to be a witch. The glow from the witches' hands covered the raging beast. It shook its majestic mane, blinked its great golden eyes, bared its deadly teeth in a yawn, and laid down to take a nap. The King of the Jungle was taking a catnap.
Odin let out a heavy sigh. “That'swhat dandy-lions do.”
“Who the fuck does this witch think she is—Circe?” Cerberus snarled.
I lifted my eyebrows at him. “We're on an island with a witch turning us into animals. Yeah, good one, Cer.” I held out my fist.
“Thank you.” Cerberus fist-bumped me.
“He's Greek. Of course, he knows that story,” Slate asserted.
“ThisCirce will probably keep you just as you are, lover boy,” Cerberus teased Slate. Then he looked the Gargoyle up and down. “Well, maybe notexactlyas you are.”
Slate cocked his head at Cerberus, angling his black horns at my bestie in warning.
“Hey, we've all been there.” Cerberus held up his hands defensively. “Better to have them chasing after you than not.”
“How do you figure?” Slate rumbled.
“If they aren't chasing, you aren't worth catching.” Cerberus winked and made a clicking sound with his tongue.
“Lovely, the Hellhound is cracking jokes while my friends are being turned into a fucking menagerie,” one of the witches griped.
Eerie laughter cut off Cer's response. It was a wicked sound but not in an arch-nemesis sort of way, more in a raving lunatic manner. A hyena sort of laugh. It snaked through the trees and echoed as if it were coming from several directions. My flesh crawled and my breath caught. Everyone around me went silent and still, peering warily around the jungle.
Branches broke. Leaves stirred. I couldn't tell where it was coming from. A rustle on my left. A snap on my right. The air chilled and tickled my nose with the scent of death.
“No,” I whispered. “It can't be.”
“Fucking Wendigos,” Cerberus growled, confirming my suspicions. “I hate Wendigos.”
“So do I,” I muttered.
I'd sort of met a Wendigo in Slate's arena prison once. Cerberus killed him in the arena later. He hadn't been scary in his normal form, it was when he shifted into a rotting corpse that things got dicey—and putrid. From the smell of things, these Wendigos—and I was certain that there was more than one—had shifted.
Kyanite?I called in my mind.“Enter Sandman” by Metallica, if you please.
An inspired choice! Fight the monsters with monsters.
Something like that.
