Chapter 25 Manticore Hunt
The only thing worse than running for your life was running straight into somewhere designed to kill you.
Daisy staggered through black mud, the grass up to her knees slicked with a greasy film that burned every cut on her shins. She'd made it through the fence, but the compound didn't end there. It sprawled for acres, a labyrinth of tangled brush and artificial canyons, every turn designed to contain monsters with no business living anywhere near people. The eastern quadrant, the stories said, held the worst of them.
She'd always thought the stories were for city brats and noble braggarts. Now she knew better.
The ground sloped sharply, dropping into a hollow lined with chain-link and dead vines. At the bottom, more cages, bigger and nastier than before. Daisy saw one, then another, every cell ripped open, as if the creatures inside had decided to take the place with them when they left. A pair of horns protruded from a heap of shredded metal; nearby, a pile of blue fur twitched in the moonlight, then went still. The only sounds were her own breath and the crackle of burning brush.
She pressed a trembling hand to her ribs, feeling the heat where her blood still leaked from the dozen shallow wounds. The magic in her veins pulsed wild, electric, hot, and cold at once. Sometimes it made her dizzy; sometimes it just burned. She'd tried to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't obey; each time she wiped it away, it reappeared, thinner, more frantic, now less a wound and more a warning.
Something moved behind her, soft as shadow. She spun, heart hammering. Nothing. But the hair on her neck prickled. Daisy crouched, eyes sweeping the hollow.
A hum filled the air, soft but insistent, growing with every breath. She realized what it was: the sound of wards dying.
The first time she saw the Manticore, it was only a flicker: a ripple of gold against the darkness, the movement too smooth to be a beast, too big to be a man. Then it came again, closer, this time resolved into a shape that made Daisy's skin crawl. She saw the massive lion's body, ribs sharp beneath skin, the haunches roped with muscle and wound with scars. The wings were mangled, one bone splintered and twisted, the other more rag than membrane. But it was the face that stopped her dead.
Human. Not quite, but almost. The eyes, large and blue and rimmed with tears; the lips, split and crusted with old blood; the jaw, too wide, too knowing. It watched her with the patience of something that had waited for a long time to be hungry.
Daisy tried to back up, but the mud held her boots like glue. The Manticore flexed its claws, stretching each paw with exaggerated care, never looking away from her face. It could have charged. Instead, it stepped forward, slow and regal, closing the gap inch by inch.
She fumbled in her satchel for the knife. Her fingers were so slick with blood she almost dropped it. The Manticore's mouth curled into what might have been a smile.
Then it spoke.
Not in words, not the way the dragon had, but in a single, perfect, predatory thought that pressed into Daisy's skull: 'Hunger. Need. You.'
She panicked and stabbed out with the knife. The Manticore didn't even flinch. It moved so fast it blurred, the paw hitting her hand and sending the knife spinning into the grass. Daisy yelped, recoiled, lost her balance, and fell hard on her side. The Manticore bared its teeth, pleased.
She scrambled upright. The creature tracked her every move, tail lashing. At the end of it, the scorpion barb dripped a line of green venom that hissed wherever it hit the ground.
"Come on, then," Daisy whispered, not sure if she was talking to the beast or herself.
The Manticore pounced. Daisy dove sideways, felt the wind of the paw as it barely missed her head. She rolled, came up running, heart in her throat. The next time she glanced back, it was right behind her, its face set in that same, terrible, almost-human grin.
She ducked into a row of ruined cages, weaving through the maze of collapsed wire and metal. The Manticore followed, never rushing, always just behind. Daisy tried to double back, but the thing was waiting, already blocking the way. She faked left, then right, but the Manticore only paced, mirrored her movements, herding her further into the dead end.
At the very back of the row, Daisy found herself trapped against a wall of stone, the only escape a gap barely wide enough for her shoulders. She didn't think; she squeezed through, scraping her arms bloody on the way. The Manticore tried to follow, but its bulk caught on the stone, and it let out a roar of pure frustration.
Then the tail punched through the gap, striking her face. She ducked, felt the sting as the barb nicked her shoulder, hot venom already burning through the sleeve and into her flesh. She bit down on the scream, shoved herself backward, and tumbled into the next clearing.
The pain was instant, molten, radiating from her shoulder down to her fingertips. She clamped her hand over the wound, already feeling the muscle spasm beneath the skin. The Manticore's head appeared at the gap, eyes alight with delight. It forced its way forward, ignoring the scrapes as the stone gouged bloody furrows down its face and flanks.
Daisy stumbled away, searching desperately for anything that could buy her time. The world narrowed to the pulse in her wrist, the white-hot agony in her arm, and the monster that would not stop.
She tried the blood magic, focusing on the pain, on the old instinct to bind a wound with will alone. The spiral birthmark flared, her blood rising to the surface, forming a brief, perfect red barrier in the air. The Manticore hit it, recoiling, eyes wide with surprise. Daisy almost grinned. Then the barrier flickered, pulsed, and collapsed into a rain of useless droplets. The Manticore grinned back and pressed on.
She ran. The world spun and bucked under her feet, every movement amplifying the fire in her shoulder. She dodged between two metal pillars, ducked as the tail sliced past her ear, and rolled under a fallen cage, the mesh biting into her scalp. The Manticore came at her again, slower now, savoring the chase.
At the edge of the compound, Daisy saw the outer wall: high, thick, topped with warding glass now shattered and dark. A section at the far end was ablaze, the fire licking up into the night, painting the world orange and sickly. Between her and the wall was a single, open field, covered with the detritus of a hundred failed experiments: broken bottles, old bones, the rusted skeletons of cages. And the Manticore, pacing, blocking the only clear path.
Then a new sharp noise, the clatter of boots and the bark of orders. A patrol of guards, six or seven, burst from the burning building. Their faces were masks of terror and discipline, eyes wide as they swept the area. When they saw Daisy, every wand and staff snapped up.
"Halt!" the nearest one shouted, his voice cracking in the cold air.
Daisy halted, but not for him. The Manticore stalked into the open, tail held high, wings fanned in a grotesque display. The guards gasped, weapons shaking.
"Contain the beast!" the leader screamed.
Two of the guards fumbled, firing pale blue beams at the Manticore. The creature laughed, a sound like a man and a beast sharing one mouth, and leapt. The first two beams fizzed, died. The next one hit, and the Manticore shuddered, but kept coming.
Daisy dropped to the ground, covered her head, and prayed that none of this would last much longer.
The Manticore tore through the front rank of guards, claws raking bodies into ragdolls, jaws snapping bones like dry twigs. Blood sprayed, soaking Daisy's clothes, her hair, her mouth. She gagged, crawled away, desperate not to be the next one down.
The last three guards held their ground, but the Manticore played with them, baiting, luring them into range, then killing with swift, surgical strikes. In less than a minute, the whole patrol was gone, bodies left in crumpled heaps.
Daisy tried to run again, but her legs failed, the venom already spreading to her hips, her knees. She crawled, the blood trail behind her marking every inch. The Manticore padded over, slow, lazy, confident.
She reached for her knife, found nothing. She raised her arms to shield her face, but the effort was laughable. The Manticore studied her, its blue eyes soft, almost sad. Then it raised its tail, poised for the final blow.
The fire at the end of the wall grew brighter, and through the haze Daisy saw movement, a single, lurching figure, silhouetted by flame. It staggered, collapsed, then rose again, something burning in its hand.
The Manticore hesitated, watching the newcomer. Daisy took the moment, rolled onto her side, and tried to crawl faster. Every inch was agony, but she didn't stop.
The burning figure staggered closer. Daisy saw it now: a handler, face half-melted, uniform blackened to cinders. In his hand, a staff, cracked, leaking blue light, but still potent.
He raised the staff and howled a word. The tip flared, and a bolt of magic hit the Manticore dead center. The beast roared, whirled, and charged the man. They met in a blur of fur, teeth, and white-hot energy. The handler lasted only seconds, but the staff exploded, sending the Manticore skidding across the ground, dazed.
Daisy crawled for the wall. The fire had eaten through a section of it, leaving a jagged hole big enough for her to squeeze through. She rolled under, felt the heat sear her skin, but didn't stop. The world beyond was wild grass, open and empty, moonlight dancing on the dew.
Behind her, the Manticore roared, a sound so full of rage and Hunger that even the stars seemed to recoil.
Daisy pulled herself through the grass, collapsing when she was finally out of the compound's reach. Her shoulder throbbed, every nerve a separate flame. She lay on her back, staring at the sky, waiting for the pain to end.
It didn't. Not yet.