But we were still inside her head, and she’d been doing this a lot longer than I had.
“Tristan!”
I hadn’t even pushed up to my knees before Constantine came racing around the other side of the hill, a dozen knights on horseback behind him. Swords and spears stabbed at the sky. Their battle yell reverberated all around.
I tried one last leap for the pendant before I was trampled under hooves. Viola couldn’t get to her feet. She looked as broken as I felt. Instead she wriggled down and tried to kick me in the face. I dodged, but she caught my shoulder and pain shot sparks down my arm. Bats tangled in my hair.
She was really starting to get on my nerves.
My silver cord flared, going from starlight to sunlight and blinding her momentarily. That was something, at least. But not enough.
The knights surrounded us, horses pawing at the ground. Constantine lowered his lance, the wickedly pointed tip aimed at my already bruised throat. His eyes were the same violet color, but without the vampire intensity. His black hair curled over his chain-mail and there were scars on his hands. This was Viola’s Tristan. He wasn’t a vampire yet, just a human knight.
I scrounged in the dirt for my sword hilt, shrinking back from the lance. The sound of blades leaving their scabbards hissed all around me, like poisonous serpents. Viola had her resurrected knights, and her true love. They’d die for her. And they’d cheerfully kill for her. They weren’t even technically real, just figments of her past. Memories.
But in this place, memories could kill.
There was only one other person left whom she couldn’t control, who was as real as I was.
Gwyneth.
She stood in the arch of the gate, the ivy and moss growing wildly behind her, pulling down stones and cracking the walls. Her bare muddy toes dug into the grass and the ground fractured like spiderweb cracks in a windshield.
“You!” Viola snapped, with equal fear and hatred. “It’s not possible. Get her!” she ordered, and half the knights charged Gwyneth, hooves flinging clumps of dirt all over me. In the momentary pause, I managed to grab hold of my sword and blocked Tristan’s lance, shoving it aside. I rolled beyond its range and into the space abandoned by the knight behind me. I landed on the balls of my feet, springing up, sword at the ready. The nearest horse tried to bite me. Constantine’s lance was still between me and the pendant.
“Call the dragon!” Gwyneth yelled to me, as the ground heaved and buckled around her. The knights reined in their horses, pacing side to side, trying to find a way through.
“How?” I yelled back. “This isn’t The Lord of the Rings!”
“Blood to blood,” she said. “Only you can end this now.”
The dragon would serve me. It contained Viola’s memory of Madame Veronique and the entire Drake clan and she feared it because she feared her family.
I didn’t. It was the very source of my strength.
I needed Viola’s blood but I couldn’t get to her, not with Constantine and his knights protecting her. I needed some kind of diversion. I pointed at one of the bats and flicked my hand, directing it at Constantine. The bat dipped low at his head. He ducked, swearing. I sent three more, like a music conductor leading a symphony of bats. His horse shied nervously. I guided the other bats to the other knights, leaving the rest to hover over the pendant in a frantic black cloud when Viola crawled forward. She waved them away and they pinged between us, confused.
Time was running out. Already one of the bats was being skewered by a lance.
I ran to the tree, dragging my hand along the sword blade. Blood sprang to the surface as my cut sliced open. It hurt a lot more than it looked like it did in the movies. I slapped my palm over one of the bleeding gouges in the tree trunk and waited. Viola screamed and ran at me.
And then the dragon tore out of the sky as if it was made of nothing more than glittery indigo tissue paper.
It was just as huge as I remembered, all blue-and-silver scales and ridges on its spine as tall as standing stones. It circled over us, menacing and awe inspiring. Its tail whipped back and forth, creating a powerful wind that flattened the grass. Smoke and sparks streamed out of its nostrils.
Viola made a choking sound as she gave into fear and turned back to scramble up into the saddle behind Constantine. The pendant was still on the ground. The dragon opened its enormous jaws and shot out a ball of fire like a comet. It trailed enough sparks to singe the grass and blacken the stones. The horse reared, panicking.
The knights divided their attention, battling the dragon and Gwyneth, while still trying to protect Viola and keep me from the pendant. The dragon dipped low, tearing his talons over the battlements. One of the smaller towers fell in on itself, already weakened by fire and creeping ivy. The drag from its flapping wings nearly knocked a horse over. The knight went tumbling into the smoldering hay. Gwyneth stayed under the support of the gate archway. She was covered in soot and burns, but looked the happiest I’d ever seen her. She was actually smiling.
The dragon circled back, steam curling out of nostrils the size of caves as it took a deep breath to shoot more fire. This time when the horses bucked, Viola fell off. Constantine steadied his mount before sliding out of the saddle to reach for her.
This was my only chance.
Dragon’s breath baked the air until my throat was as parched as the rest of me was soaked. My silver cord flared painfully. I felt sure Isabeau was on the other end, pulling it as hard as she could. It actually yanked me through the grass. I knew it was a warning, knew I was running out of time. Still, I pulled back, staggering the last few feet. The pendant was within reach. I was so close now.