Chapter 12

I tore off my blindfold, shoved through the paleo lab door, and stumbled out into Trinity Hall.

In the middle of the exhibits and refreshment tables, a ring of party guests had gathered around a crater in the tile—and in that pit stood a hulking dinosaur the size of a longhorn steer.

I’d never seen a picture or movie with such a beefy duckbilled dinosaur. The bull was a high wall of rippling muscle, with a workhorse neck, strong back legs, and a thick, powerful tail swinging high off the ground. He shone with scales the color of black coffee. Sugar-white zebra stripes slashed across his flanks, and yellow rooster comb ridges hooded his glittering black eyes.

For a second I just stood there, stunned.

Crow had hijacked my magic and raised a dinosaur. Right in the middle of the Hemming.

This was so awful. So public. My brain took a whirlwind tour of everything I could possibly be grounded from. Where did extra bad kids go? Military camp?

But even while my head was spiraling, my horse girl heart skipped a beat. Now that was a dinosaur. Powerful. Beautiful. Scary-big. Whatever this animal was called, he pushed all the same buttons The Black Stallion movie hit for me at the age of eight.

People circled in on the dinosaur, laughing and snapping selfies like they thought he was some kind of puppet—another Hemming photo op.

But that black, thorny beak and those thick, shiny claws weren’t just for looks. He was two tons of wild danger. And from the flare of his nostrils, he was about to lose it.

“Don’t crowd him,” I shouted over the chatter, pulling on jacket sleeves and wrists. Somebody was about to get seriously hurt. “Get back. It’s not safe.”

I just got a lot of glares. Somebody slapped my hand away. The crowd pressed in for more pictures.

The dinosaur snorted and tossed his head, shying away from the camera flash. Then he reared up on his hind legs, ten feet tall, and let out a hair-raising, bugling scream. The trumpet turned to a whistle high enough to shatter glass.

In a second, all the excitement in the air flipped from funfair to F5 tornado.

The bull slammed down and surged into the crowd, thrashing and bucking.

Everyone scattered, running for cover.

The dinosaur’s long, stiff tail swiped across the snack table.

The caterers ducked in the nick of time as it obliterated the towering cake in a splatter, sending drinks and plasticware flying.

The exhibit hall echoed with screams. Party guests shoved past me, crowding back into the foyer or running up the stairs to the balcony. Some people watched from the exit of the Neanderthal exhibit.

You have to end this, Pine said.

“Yeah.” Like I hadn’t thought of that yet.

I stepped toward the bull and let out a steady breath. “Hey, buddy.” I moved in slow and kept my body loose. “It’s pretty scary out here, huh?”

A rumbling breath hissed out of the bull’s nostrils. He sounded like a semi settling on its tires.

“That’s enough fun for one day.” I reached for the line of magic that connected us. “Just come on back to me.”

Except—where was our magic?

A cold rush spilled down my body. My insides caved. Where the heck was our link?

The bull bowed his head. His yellow-edged eyebrows highlighted a killer death glare.

What are you doing? Pine’s voice shot high.

I don’t know. Something’s wrong. I searched for the dinosaur’s soulshine, but it was like there wasn’t any magic running between us. I can’t get ahold of him.

The bull zeroed in on me with a midnight-black eye. He pawed the green tile.

I had to back away. But I was so thrown, I couldn’t lift my feet.

You need to move, Pine said.

I knew that. Everything in me was screaming GO. But when it came down to fight or flight, my body landed on the third option. Freeze.

The dinosaur charged.

Move! Pine’s soulshine ripped through my body, twisting me out of the warpath.

The bull thundered past like a freight train, a near miss. His breeze ruffled my hair.

Pine rolled us into a perfect crouch. His soulshine shrank back to normal size, and he released me.

“Thanks.” I was wobbly all over. For once, it was good to have a backseat driver.

Lucky you’re small.

The bull wheeled around to face me, just yards away.

Need help? Pine said.

I clenched my fists and staggered to my feet. I got this.

No messing around this time. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached for our magic tether. Lights out for the dino death machine in three, two, one—

Nothing. Crud. I couldn’t find the off switch.

What is going on? Pine said.

I didn’t summon this dinosaur. My jaw dropped as I realized what was going on. Crow did.

Crow used my magic. But the bull wasn’t mine. Me and this dinosaur—we weren’t connected. I couldn’t take him back.

I stumbled back a step, sick to my stomach.

No magic. My only choice was to poof him. But how?

He was so close now that I could see raking scars on one of his shoulders where his micro-scale armor had been chipped away. The claw marks, or maybe tooth marks, had scratched deep into the meat of his arm. But it was clearly an old wound. One he’d survived.

If the prehistoric killing machine who took that chunk out of him couldn’t finish the job, I didn’t have a prayer.

The bull took a step toward me.

I was about to get so stomped.

Out of nowhere, Pedro threw himself between me and the dinosaur. He let out this crazy yell, more Viking than security guard, and swung a metal folding chair.

The chair smashed across the bull’s head with an echoing clang. The seat back snapped and hurtled away.

The hit knocked a puff of dust out of the dinosaur’s nostrils. It might’ve been concrete—or whatever that magical tank body was made of.

But the bull took that punch like a statue. He didn’t even stumble.

Apparently folding chair didn’t beat dinosaur.

The bull rose on his back legs like a grizzly bear. His shadow spilled over us.

I scrambled back until I slipped in frosting and fell back against the cake table.

Pedro dropped the broken chair and backed away. His hand fumbled on his belt. Found his taser.

Somehow I doubted that would help. We weren’t winning this one. “Pedro—”

The bull lashed out with one of its hoofpaws and punched Pedro square in the chest, sending him skidding across the polished tile.

My heart plunged. I sucked a breath through my teeth.

Pedro rolled onto his side and lay still. The taser tumbled out of his hands.

“Pedro?” Cold all over, I took a small step toward him. “Say something.”

He groaned, and I knew right away something in him was broken. I couldn’t believe he was even awake.

A couple of party guests crept out the doorways to try to collect him.

But the bull dropped back on all fours and lumbered toward him, head down, black eyes burning.

The subzero chill under my skin hardened into icy armor, and I closed my hand into a fist. Uh-uh. Nobody was getting trampled to death on my watch.

I yanked the white tablecloth behind me off the cake station, flinging yellow crumbs and vanilla frosting.

“Hey!” I snapped the cloth out and waved it like a flag.

The bull spooked. He slipped on the slick tile, skittering away from the tablecloth—away from Pedro.

“Get back.” I lunged toward the dinosaur, swiping the sheet back and forth to ward him off. “Back it up.”

Two men snuck in and dragged Pedro out of the way. They lifted him up the stairs, out of danger.

The dinosaur paced a few steps, rounding the pit he crawled out of, eyes on me. A muscle in his shoulder shivered. It almost felt like he was sizing me up, trying to figure out if he could take me on.

“Hey,” a woman shouted across the exhibit hall.

The dinosaur and I looked up at the same time.

Mom leaned over the balcony, radiating the wrath of God.

My bones turned to Jell-O. I was saved. And so dead.

Bypassing the crowd on the steps, she slid down the railing to the first floor and stuck the high-heeled landing. She clapped and opened her arms to me, ready to catch a pass.

I balled the sheet up and shot it to her.

She caught it, shook it out with a flourish, and stared down the bull. Why, in her hands, did that tablecloth suddenly feel like a big red cape?

The bull let loose an earsplitting squeal. Broke into a gallop.

Mom flung the cloth into the air, spreading it wide, and leapt to tackle me out of the way.

The bull hurtled by and ploughed through the sheet.

For just a second, with the white cloth over his head, he looked like a corny ghost. It was almost funny.

Until he exploded through the big glass window behind us and crashed into the back parking lot.

Mom hunched over and covered my head, shielding me from the shards.

We sat there for a second, sprawled out under the tinkling glass.

After a moment of tense silence, Mom allowed me to sit up.

Outside, the bull staggered around, blinded by the blanket. He tossed his head and bumped into a car. The alarm went off.

Well, I said to Pine, at least he’s out of the building.

Mom pulled me behind the cake tables, out of sight.  “Look at me.” She gripped me with eagle claws and scanned me with eagle eyes. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head.

She glanced between me and the dinosaur and squeezed my arms tight. “Take it back.”

“I—” It took a second to find my voice. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” She went from whisper to hiss. “You just did it this morning.”

I wanted to curl up in that hole in the tile and wait for the Hemmings to fill it in.

Dr. Jacobs dropped in on our right. “What in the holy Sam Hill is going on?”

Martina popped under the table on my left. “Hi.” Suddenly, we were a huddle.

Out in the parking lot, the bull paused to scratch at the ghost sheet with his back foot. He caught the tablecloth with his toeclaws and managed to yank it free.

Martina took the dinosaur in with starry eyes. “What is that?”

“Tenontosaurus. That’s not important.” Dr. Jacobs looked at me. “Disappear it.”

Mom and I answered right on top of each other—“Can’t.”

“Why—?” Dr. Jacobs shook her head. No time. “Forget it. We’ll have to put it down the hard way.” She dug out her car keys and tossed them to Martina. “Get the truck.”

“On it.” She scooted out from under the table and ran back into the foyer.

Dr. Jacobs, Mom, and I turned back to the bull. He was pacing, balancing on two feet to look over the cars.

“We gotta wrangle him before he takes off.” Dr. Jacobs looked between me and Mom. “You ladies wouldn’t happen to have a rope on you?”

I spotted an orange extension cord running under the cake table. I jerked it out of the wall and held it up. “How’s this?”

Dr. Jacobs cracked a cowboy smile. She looped the cord into a lasso and gave it a test-swing. “That’ll do.”

The bull started lumbering across the parking lot, toward the highway.

“It’s getting away. I’ll keep it close.” Mom grabbed a metal serving tray off the table and got to her feet. She paused. Pointed at me. “You be safe. I’m not done with you.”

I gulped. “Yes ma’am.”

She turned away and hopped through the dinosaur-sized hole in the window. “Hey, handsome.” She banged the tray at the dinosaur and whistled through her teeth. “Where you goin’?”

The bull stopped and swung around to face her.

She ducked between cars to hide, but I knew she couldn’t keep that up for long.

Dr. Jacobs turned to me.  “Can you tie a quick-release knot?”

“Yeah.” Back when Grandpa kept horses, he taught me how to hitch them.

“Good girl.” She wagged the cord. “Find the end of this thing and tie it to something secure.” She held up two fingers. “And wrap it twice. Not once. Twice.”

I nodded. “Twice. Got it.”

“Give a holler when you’re set.”

We split up, her slipping through the broken window on quiet boots and me running down the line.

I found the other end of the extension cord plugged into, whaddaya know, another extension cord. I popped it free and looked around for something to tie it to. But the only thing around was plastic tables, except—

The bronze exhibit bars buried into the floor.

I ran up to the Acrocanthosaurus display and double-wrapped the cord around one of the bars. Then I worked the knot and cinched it tight.

“Hit it,” I shouted.

Dr. Jacobs whipped the lasso over her head with one pro flick of the wrist. She slung her loop one, two, three times—and let ’er fly.

The loop fell perfectly around the bull’s neck. He jerked away.

The cord snapped tight, the exhibit bars creaked, but my knot held.

If I wasn’t living the worst day of my life, I’d treat myself to a fist pump. Instead, I ran up behind Dr. Jacobs, who was keeping watch over the bull as he bucked and lashed his head.

Mom backed into the rows of cars, well out of reach.

The extension cord strained and squeaked.

At the end of the parking lot, a set of headlights snapped on. A heavy-duty, deep blue Dodge roared to life and revved its rumbling engine.

“Right on time,” Dr. Jacobs said.

That was her truck. And I’d bet anything Martina was at the wheel.

The bull whipped his head toward the pickup and bellowed, daring it to come get some.

A tiny crackling sound caught my attention. I glanced over at the taut extension cord. The orange rubber had started to split. Was I hearing all the little wires inside splintering one by one?

“Dr. Jacobs.” I stumbled away from the rope. If it broke, I didn’t want it to crack like a whip and take out my eye. “It’s not gonna hold.”

She cussed and waved her hat at the truck. “Go!”

The cord snapped.

Martina gunned the engine. That giant truck peeled out across the parking lot.

The brakes screamed.

The bull screamed.

The crowd screamed.

The truck slammed through the dinosaur like a wrecking ball. His body exploded in a mushroom cloud of concrete dust. Chunks of green tile spilled over the car and hailed down on the parking lot.

Tires squealing, the truck lurched to a stop.

Dr. Jacobs held her hat on her head and ran across the lot. She swung open the pickup’s passenger door. “You good?”

Martina sat slumped over the wheel but gave a wobbly thumbs up.

“Atta girl. Don’t you move.”

I looked around the parking lot for Mom, but I didn’t see her.

Some of the party guests trickled back into Trinity Hall, crowding around Pedro. Some of them were on their phones, I guess calling an ambulance. Other guests tiptoed through shattered glass and shards of tile, looking over the damage to the Hemming. They all seemed somewhere between baffled and terrified.

Luckily, none of them looked at me.

I bent over my knees and sighed. But then I remembered there was one thing left.

The soulshine.

I straightened up and sharpened my sixth sense, listening for magical energy. Sure enough, the dinosaur’s soulshine hung in the air like fog.

Normally it would come back to me in a flash flood. But if Crow used my magic to bring the bull to life—if it wasn’t under my control—if it wasn’t even connected to me—?

After a second, the soulshine fizzled out. Gone.

Where did it go? Did it just float away?

The Crow, Pine said. It’s with the Crow.

“Uh-oh.” That made scary sense.

A second set of headlights blinded me. The 4Runner hurtled around the corner and screeched to a halt beside Dr. Jacobs’s pickup.

The passenger door popped open. And there was Mom, leaning across the seat, deadpan as an executioner. Her stare was the Mariana Trench. Freezing cold. Pitch dark. Bone-crushing.

“Get in,” she said, deathly quiet.

Rabid dog rules applied here. Be silent. Be small. Avoid eye contact.

I kept my head down and got my butt in the car.

We pulled out just as a fire truck pulled in, siren blaring and lights blazing.

Just before we turned onto the highway, I caught sight of Dixon’s white suit in the side mirror. He stood in the middle of the broken glass, head tilted, watching us leave.

I was too far away to tell if he was piecing together the truth or swearing revenge—but one thing was for sure.

I wasn’t getting away with this.