“Will he be okay?” she whispered, clenching her hands so tight, her nails bit painfully into her palms.
“Give him some credit,” Bob chided, grinning wide. “He might be a sorry excuse for one, but Julius is still a dragon. We can heal from pretty much anything that doesn’t kill us outright. A little rest and food and he’ll be back to his insufferable niceness in no time. The only difference is now that Conrad’s so clearly on his side, the rest of the family might actually listen.”
He rubbed his hands together like that was the entire point, but Marci just felt sick to her stomach. All she wanted to do was get back to Julius as fast as possible, before any other disasters struck. She was turning to go do just that when Bob’s arm snaked around her neck.
“Not just yet,” he whispered, squeezing her into a gentle but inescapable choke hold. “I’ll let you go in a moment. First, though, we have to say hello to our guests.”
For a confused moment, Marci had no idea what he was doing. When he turned her around, though, she saw it. She’d been so caught up in the dragon drama, she’d completely forgotten about the UN team. But they must have heard the commotion and come running, because Sir Myron and the general were now both standing in the center of the parking lot just a few feet away.
In hindsight, Marci wondered what had taken them so long. The fight hadn’t been more than five minutes total, but surely that was more than enough time to run out of a diner? Then again, though, maybe they’d been there for a while and simply stayed quiet, because while neither of them looked afraid, they were both staring at Bob like he was the end boss of the most sadistic game ever invented.
“Emily!” Bob cried cheerfully, waving at her with the hand he wasn’t using to keep Marci pinned. “Long time no see. How’s the new arm?”
“Upgraded since the last time we met, Brohomir,” the general replied flatly, lifting her seemingly empty, gloved hand so that it was pointed palm out at the seer. “Step away from the Merlin.”
Bob grinned and pulled Marci closer. “Just laying it right out, I see. Not even going to play at secrets?”
General Jackson shrugged. “No point in lying to a seer. But since you know what she is, you should also know that Marci Novalli is now under the UN’s protection.”
“And that’s why you’re pointing your cannon at her?” Bob said, arching an eyebrow at the general’s open palm, which still looked empty to Marci. “Do you understand how protection works?”
“We have that covered,” Sir Myron said, spreading his own hands to show Bob his glowing rings. It wasn’t until he moved them, though, that Marci realized the parking lot around her and Bob was covered with spellwork. She had no idea when he’d had time to lay it all down. She didn’t even know what the spell was meant to do since she couldn’t make heads or tails of Myron’s maze-like symbols. Whatever they were for, though, the chalk markings on the pavement were humming like high-voltage power cables. Even Bob looked impressed, if only a little.
“The Master of Labyrinths lives up to his name,” he said, glancing down at Marci. “Seems like you’re attracting all the A-listers these days, and I don’t just mean Amelia.” He chuckled. “Julius is going to have to up his game.”
Before Marci could think of how to reply to that one, Bob turned back to the general. “The only thing missing now is your charming pet. Where is the little miscreant? Hovering over my head with an anvil?”
“I’d never be so gauche,” Raven said, appearing from nowhere to land on Emily’s shoulder. “If I wanted to kill you, Brohomir, I’d drop a tip to Algonquin and let her take it from there. But we have no quarrel with you or your insanity. We’re just here for the girl, so if you’ll kindly…” The spirit’s croaking voice faltered as his black eyes went wide. “What is that?” he whispered.
“What do you mean?” Marci asked, craning her head back to look up at the dragon. “It’s just Bob.”
“JustBob?” the seer said, looking terminally insulted, but Raven was shaking his head.
“Not the dragon.”
“Now I’m ‘the dragon’?!” Bob cried, glaring daggers at the bird. “You’re crushing my ego, which is a dangerous thing to do. Youdon’twant to make me have to show off.”
“Would you shut up?” Raven snapped, his angry voice suddenly far too big for his feathered body. “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking aboutthat.”
He bobbed his head, pointing his beak not at the dragon, but behind him at the pigeon who was still sitting on the hood of Bob’s car, who’d been silently watching everything unfold.
“What is that?” Raven asked again, his still-too-big voice growing deadly as his beady eyes slid back to Bob. “What have you done, dragon?”
“Why do you bother to ask?” Bob said, dropping the insulted act as quickly as he’d picked it up. “You already know.” He held out his hand, and the pigeon fluttered to him, perching on his fingers with a coo, making Raven flinch back with an angry caw.
“Are youactuallycrazy?” the spirit cried. “Even I don’t play games with stakes that high! What possessed you to bring that...thatthinghere?”
“Careful,” Bob warned, lifting his pigeon to press a delicate kiss to her feathered head. “You’ll hurt her feelings. And I invited her here for the same reason I do everything.” His thin lips curled in a deadly and very un-Bob-like smile. “To help me win.”
“Wait,” Marci said, confused. “Are we still talking about Bob’s pigeon?”
“That is no pigeon,” Raven said, his black eyes flashing. “Thatis a Nameless End.”
The way he said that made Marci shiver from head to toes, and from the look on the UN team’s faces, she wasn’t alone.
“What does that mean?” the general demanded, glaring at the spirit on her shoulder.
“It means we need to get out of here,” Raven said, talons tightening. “Right now.”
