Chapter 29

Acrocanthosaurus plowed out of the Hemming’s front lawn. It shook green layers of sod off its humpback and powerwalked toward Haymaker.

Martina, Pine, and I watched from up on the nearby hill.

I’d asked Crow, nicely, to have my parents back. And this was what I got in return—an act of war.

“Rip him a new one,” Martina said.

I pinned Crow in Boyfriend’s mind like a wanted poster. “Go get him.”

My raptor snapped awake like I’d lit his fuse and shot down the hill toward the Hemming’s mansion, taking the steep slope in long, agile leaps.

The Acro stalked in a wide curve around Haymaker. Slowly, carefully, it closed in near her tail.

That dinosaur was gonna be mine. I shut my eyes and traveled up a long wire of soulshine, tapping into Haymaker’s mind.

Her head was so high up, it almost felt disconnected from the rest of her body—like I was sitting in the pilot’s seat, driving this giant boat of an animal. She could easily see over the roof of the house on her right. And on her left, she was already eyeballing the Acro creeping up on her flank.

Now, with my hands on her steering wheel, I sensed two things on the dashboard. First, worry, blinking like a red warning light. And nearby, whole bunch of crazy locked up behind glass like a fire axe, in case of emergency.

But Haymaker wasn’t ready to break that glass yet. Almost like part of her didn’t believe the Acro had the guts.

Until it lunged, snipping at her flank. Too close for comfort.

I broke the emergency glass.

Blind rage spilled out.

Haymaker swung around to face the Acro and charged several steps—so much faster than I expected.

She reared and slung her neck like a lasso, making a headbanging show of her size. When she slammed her front legs down, the Hemming’s whole house rattled.

Back in my own body, which felt so far away, I heard Martina shout, “Holy crap.”

The Acro stumbled out of danger zone and jogged a few steps away to regroup.

Haymaker slowed, puffing and lashing her tail as the bloodred rage faded from the corners of her vision. That one wild burst had used up a lot of power, and it would take a minute before she could work up the strength to do it again.

Now, I got why there was glass over the berserk button. It took a lot of energy to move a body this big.

The Acro sized her up from a distance. Would he even take us on again? Or would we have to go after him?

From my vantage point at the top of Haymaker’s neck, I noticed a cop car pull out from around the house.

“Martina,” I said, “I think—”

“I’m on it. Winnie.” She jumped in the truck and started the engine, Winnie hopping into the cab behind her. “Stay here,” she told me and Pine.

“No problem.” I was kind of busy.

She slammed the door, pulled the truck out of the trees to make herself a clear target, and revved the engine.

The black-and-white switched on its lights and peeled out across the lawn, spinning up dirt tracks.

Martina spun the wheel with one arm and tore away, disappearing over the hill.

They followed her. But even in a wrist cast, I was willing to bet she could beat that low-riding cop car in an offroad race.

Pine grabbed my shoulder and pointed. The Acro was making another rush for Haymaker.

“Oh, shoot.” I shut my eyes and launched back into the sauropod’s point of view, checking how much energy she had stored up for another rage mode.

If she had a fuel gauge, the needle would be in the yellow.

The Acro charged in, mouth open wide.

Haymaker turned on instinct, hoping to take the bite on her side, where her back was studded with tough, bony bumps.

But the Acro dodged at the last second and lunged.

It snapped down on her throat, right at the base. Its teeth sank deep into her neck muscles. Its jaw locked around her windpipe.

Haymaker jerked away, seconds too late. She towed the Acro several paces, high-stepping and swinging her neck.

But the Acro hung off her like a bulldog, using all its biteforce to clamp her throat closed, and all its weight to drag her down.

Haymaker slowed, struggling to suck in a new breath. Gallons of blood roared in her ears. Every pulse boomed like a drum.

I gasped for air, and was almost surprised when my real, human body actually got a full breath. It wasn’t my neck getting crushed, but the smothering feeling overwhelmed me. For just a moment, I focused on my own breathing. And once I felt centered, I dove back in.

We couldn’t shake the Acro’s dead weight. Not until Haymaker got a chance to catch her breath. But if we had to crash, and least we could pick the place.

Back in Haymaker’s control center, I grabbed her imaginary steering wheel and whirled it hand-over-hand.

With the last of her strength, Haymaker rocked a few steps, dragging the Acro along—positioning it between her gigantic body and the Hemming’s priceless Mediterranean mansion.

And when she was finally ready, I jerked her yacht of a body sideways.

She broadsided Crow’s dinosaur, slamming it into the house.

They crashed into the portico over the front door, crushing the white arches. Every window on the front of the Hemming’s luxury home shattered at once. A wave of pink terra cotta tiles spilled over the edge of the roof and shattered on the driveway.

Haymaker heard—and felt—something crunch. The Acro flattened under her weight.

But the monster locked on like a rattlesnake, wheezing through its teeth. Even squeezed a little harder.

Haymaker’s panic pumped through me. Each throb of her massive heart counted down another second without air.

Dirt crumbled to the ground, a magical body breaking down. But I couldn’t tell which of them it belonged to. Maybe both.

I pulled out to judge the situation from the hill. “Who’s winning?”

Can’t tell, Pine said.

It was true. The dinosaurs were deadlocked.

At some point, one of them would poof. It was only a matter of who unraveled first. The only way Haymaker could stay together was to add mass to her magic body. But even if she could find something to eat, she wouldn’t be able to swallow. And—

A second line of soulshine twanged tight. Something was wrong with Boyfriend. What now?

“Hold on,” I told Pine as I switched to his channel.

Boyfriend hunkered in the hedges bordering the Hemming’s property.

Just a few paces away, the female raptor lurked in the shadows of a rose bed, pinning him with golden eyes. She flared her wings and tail and hissed.

Boyfriend braced himself for a fight.

Pow. A rifle cracked off, echoing around the hills.

Juliet took the shot in the hip and dropped. She let out a screech like a bad note on a violin.

I turned Boyfriend’s head in the direction of the gunshot, and through his crystal-clear vision, I spotted Dr. Jacobs hunkered on the rim of the hill.

Almost like she knew he could see her, Dr. Jacobs pointed toward the house. And when I turned Boyfriend to look, I saw what she meant.

A broken window, shattered by Haymaker and the Acro. A way into Dixon’s house—and an open route to Crow.

It couldn’t be easier if I’d planned it.

Boyfriend skirted around the female raptor, shushed through the rose garden past a jangling windchime, and slipped through the window.

He dropped into the hallway, toe claws lifted off the hardwood for a slipper-soft landing.

Inside, the house was completely silent. You’d never know two giants were throttling each other outside, except the inside of the house looked like an earthquake. Broken glass glittered on the floor under a dusting of white plaster. All the lights had gone out, like maybe the dinosaur collision had jacked up some wiring in the walls. Pipes, too, I guess, because a puddle of water was leaking out of the bathroom and creeping into the hall.

In the quiet, I could sense Haymaker’s soulshine, her lungs burning for air. But with her neck in a vice, there wasn’t much I could do to help now but pray she could outlast the Acro.

Or find Crow and finish this, once and for all.

Boyfriend sank into hunter mode. His ear tufts perked and the feathers on his face fluffed, creating a soft dish to capture every tiny sound. The whiskery bristles on his muzzle quivered. His ribcage barely moved with his shallow, steady breaths.

He crept past the bathroom and through the Hemming’s dark kitchen, pausing behind the island counter to peek into the next room. He tasted the air, smelling for Crow.

Pine grabbed my wrist, rattling me out of the moment.

“What?” It came out kind of snappy. I was under a lot of pressure.

But when I saw him staring over his shoulder, scanning the woods behind us like he caught some small movement out the corner of his eye, all my irritation fizzled out.

Someone’s here. He pulled me deeper into the shade of the old oaks, out of view of the house, and drew his handaxe.

I pressed my back against one of the tree trunks and listened hard.

Something shuffled in the leaf litter. I jerked my head in the direction of the sound.

A blue jay stood on the ground, head raised, an acorn in its beak. It looked as startled as we were.

“Oh my gosh.” I let out a sigh and peeled myself away from the tree. I didn’t have time for—

Mrs. Hemming stood in the woods, paused mid-stride, holding her hand out like she didn’t want to startle me.

The sight of her turned me to stone.

Behind me, Pine caught his breath.

How did she get out here so fast? Had she been searching the woods this whole time? How long had she been sneaking up behind us?

“Here you are, little mage. All alone.” Dixon’s mom spoke to me like I was a stray cat huddled under a car, and she didn’t want to scare me off. “You’re not in trouble.” She reached out for me, a gentle hand tipped with sharp acrylic nails.

Agree to disagree. “Don’t move.” I posed my fingers over my guitar strings, ready to summon.

Mrs. Hemming stood still for a moment, scanning me with iceberg-blue eyes, taking in the possibilities. Her gaze flicked over my shoulder, behind me—probably examining Pine.

She took a step closer.

Pine lunged in front of me and pitched his handaxe. No hesitation.

It whistled through the air, aimed to split her head.

A blue-and-white streak bolted in front of her.

A squawk. An explosion of feathers. With a heavy chunk, the handaxe lodged in the tree behind Mrs. Hemming, deflected.

At her feet lay a dead blue jay—at the perfectly-wrong place at the perfectly-wrong time.

My jaw dropped. What impossible levels of math and magic did it take to triangulate that miracle?

Mrs. Hemming gave me a kind, controlled smile. But a wild, witchy look shone in her eyes. “Do you want to see your mom, darling?”

She took another step toward us.

Pine broke a tree limb off a dead oak beside us with a splintering crunch. He cocked it over his shoulder like a baseball bat, ready to knock her out.

She shifted sideways, rounding us like a poltergeist hovering outside a salt circle. And when she set one foot into our safe zone—

Pine rushed her.

Mrs. Hemming stopped short to watch.

Pine tripped, ripping up a hidden line of old barbed wire buried under the leaves with his bare foot. He let out a shout and landed awkwardly on his damaged heel, shedding red, sandy soil.

“Bad luck,” Mrs. Hemming said.

Pine stared at her like he’d just met the Antichrist and took a big step back. This fight was rigged.

I strummed Sarsaparilla’s theme.

Predictable? For sure. But as smart as Dixon’s mom was, she couldn’t outrun a dinosaur. And if there weren’t any futures where we beat her, maybe there was one where we escaped.

Sarsaparilla made a wall of earth between us and Mrs. Hemming as he formed, spinning off waves of heat and magic that forced her back. The tree branches lashed in the wind. A tornado of dead leaves fluttered around us.

I caught Sarsaparilla’s spine as he rose and swung my leg over his back, reaching out for Pine.

He grabbed my hand and leapt on behind me just as Sarsaparilla finished forming.

The dinosaur charged Mrs. Hemming, aiming to run her down.

But at the last possible moment, she sidestepped out of the way. The wind tousled her white-blond hair as we galloped past.

I was too scared to even look back.

We rode Sarsaparilla deep into the trees, leaping logs and crashing through low branches. My guitar bonked against my back with every tooth-rattling bounce and my stomach rolled with every downhill lurch. But I held my seat, squeezing with my legs for dear life.

Nobody was steering. With Mrs. Hemming on the loose, I was almost scared to make decisions. But in the end, it didn’t matter where we went, as long as we put acres between us and her.

Besides, I couldn’t deal with her right now. I had to—

One of my strings of magic snapped. And suddenly, an ocean of soulshine came thundering back to me, flooding my chest.

“No,” I gasped.

Sarsaparilla burst out of the woods, into a clearing that looked down on the Hemming’s property.

I grabbed him by the soulshine and jerked him to a stop. And a cold snap swept through me as I watched Haymaker crumble from the top down.

Waves of black soil tumbled down Haymaker’s headless neck and spilled over her back. Her legs buckled at the joints, her round belly caved in, and a mountain of earth poured down on the Hemming’s house, burying the Acro in a landslide.

She was gone.

The Acro shoved out of the pile and collapsed on the lawn. Exhausted, but whole. His soulshine still belonged to Crow.

The roar of an engine—no, more like two engines—carried through the woods. It almost sounded like a pair of dirt bikes, probably Dixon’s mom’s plan B.

It’s over. Pine’s voice rang hollow in my head.

But just as the horrified deep freeze began to set in, the last string of soulshine I had left thrummed like a pickaxe striking gold.

“Not yet,” I said.

Boyfriend had found his mark.

Two ATVs powered through the woods behind us. The drivers wore camouflage and reflective helmets. Mrs. Hemming balanced on the back of one of the four-wheelers, guiding them our way.

Okay. Now, Dixon’s mom was definitely faster than a dinosaur. But all I needed was a little more time.

Hang on, I warned Pine. I kicked Sarsaparilla’s sides, spurring him forward.

The dinosaur leapt ahead and reared to run on his back legs, almost flipping us head-over-heels as he kicked into high gear. He glanced back at the pursuing four-wheelers, flashing the white of his eyes like a spooked horse.

“Come on,” I shouted in his ear. The icy terror inside me had melted—from a flicker of hope or a flame of rage, I wasn’t sure. “Just a little longer.” I only needed a few more minutes.

To fix my mistakes. To avenge Pine. To save my parents.

I dove into Boyfriend’s head.

Back in the Hemming’s house, the mountain that used to be Haymaker had completely blacked out the windows. But Boyfriend’s night vision swallowed every faint ray of light, illuminating the fancy foyer. The plush runner rug was covered in broken glass and fallen chandelier crystals. Piles of dirt had spilled through the shattered windows. The weight of the landslide nearly split the front door.

Crow stood in the middle of the entryway, staring into the dark. Listening. He reached into his pocket. Held his handaxe at his hip.

Boyfriend slowed his breath.

But something was off—Crow knew it.

He activated his magic. The glow of his red crown chased every shadow out of the hall.

Our eyes locked.

Boyfriend snapped in, closing the gap between him and his prey in an instant.

Crow may have seen us, but he didn’t have time to react.

We pounced, sank our claws into his chest, and tackled him. His back slammed into the double doors.

And up in the hills, in my body, in my heart, something snapped.

The heavy ice block of pent-up fear I’d been carrying for so long. A simmering acid-bath of pure, concentrated hate. The electric thrill of finally—finally—cornering the Crow.

It all exploded at once. Caught Boyfriend’s body like fire to jet fuel.

And suddenly, the raptor was all me.

I sank my curved teeth into Crow’s arm and crushed until it cracked. Churned up a storm of wingbeats and wrenched my neck, fighting to tear off a chunk of him. Raked my killing claws down his stomach, ripping his shirt and shredding out bits of Styrofoam that floated all around us like snow.

I barely heard his bellowing screams. Hardly noticed his fingernails digging into my throat. Didn’t fully register the smell of his sweat. It was all static.

Until something sharp and cold punched into my stomach. Shoved up between my ribs.

The shock split me and Boyfriend into two separate souls again. Crow got us with the handaxe.

He jerked his blade out of Boyfriend, planted his foot in his stomach, and shoved him off.

Boyfriend tumbled. Landed on his feet.

He and Crow stood apart for a moment, both taking ragged, heaving breaths.

Crow’s left arm was crooked. Styrofoam spilled from the holes and slashes carved into his stomach and chest.

The foam clinging to Boyfriend’s feathers, filling his nose and mouth—it seemed so bizarre. Unreal. And then I remembered where Crow had first formed, in a crate full of packing peanuts in quarantine.

That felt so long ago.

Crow gritted his teeth. That red ring gleamed around his head, triggering his magic. The slices in his chest began to close.

I urged Boyfriend forward, rushing to lay into Crow before he could reform.

But he snapped his broken arm out straight—suddenly whole again—and punched the raptor square in the face. He slammed Boyfriend down, pinning him to the ground with his knee.

Boyfriend flapped and slashed blindly with his sickle claws, stunned.

No. We were so close. We couldn’t let him—

Crack!

The thunder of an up-close gunshot pounded Boyfriend’s ears.

A bullet slugged Crow in the shoulder. He reeled back.

How . . . ?

Dr. Jacobs stood in the dark doorway, a wisp of smoke drifting up from the barrel of her gun.

She pumped the rifle, ready for another shot.

Crow grabbed his wounded shoulder and staggered to his feet.

I forced Boyfriend up, too. We prowled toward Crow.

Dr. Jacobs’ slow, steady bootsteps backed us up. Now there were two of us. Now we had a gun. And now, Crow was cornered.

The crown around his head glowed brighter.

Dr. Jacobs lit up the room with another blast of gunfire.

Crow let out a shout as the bullet punched a hole in his chest. Foam blasted out the back of him like confetti. I could see clear to the other side.

This had to be the end.

His red halo shuddered and glitched with an angry buzz. But even with a bullet hole where his heart should be, he held himself together with my magic.

Back on Sarsaparilla’s back, in my body, a pinpoint of white-hot pain pricked my heart.

I’d felt this before. He wasn’t just trying to repair his own body. He was summoning something. Something brand new.

But there wasn’t any soulshine worth pulling up here—just the microscopic flecks of shell and splintered wood and powdered bone that made up the bedrock of Glen Rose.

He must’ve been desperate, fumbling for one last weapon. But with the Acro and the raptor hen down for the count, he had nothing left to throw at us.

The pain in my chest bloomed. I groaned and doubled over on Sarsaparilla.

Pine hooked his arm around my waist to keep me from falling off. Your magic?

I can take it.

But the blaze in my core burned brighter and brighter, until it felt heavy. Like all the power of a sun, crushed to the size of a thimble. Melting me from inside.

Thousands and thousands of specks of soulshine, small as grains of sand, sizzled in the landscape all around us. But Crow couldn’t summon from dust.

This was the end. It had to be.

Another gunshot rang in Boyfriend’s ears. But I hurt so bad, I could hardly see anymore. And if Dr. Jacobs hit Crow, it didn’t douse the pain.

This was so much worse than the handaxe to the gut. Was he trying to kill me? Take me with him?

It didn’t matter. He was good as dead. I just had to hold out. Hold on.

Suddenly, a bright light filled Boyfriend’s eyes.

Crow’s halo had gone supernova.

The magic in my chest detonated like a nuclear bomb. And as I screamed myself into a blackout—

Every seed of soulshine in Glen Rose sprouted at once.