Chapter 122

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two

Debris skittered under Connor’s boots as he backed away from the approaching snake creature. In the glow stick light, the thing took on an unnatural, jerky movement like a bad animation or the product of a strobing blacklight.

Then the monster picked up speed, slithering over the clumps and slabs of concrete material that left a trail of visual artifacts.

Before Connor could get to the flat of the floor, the thing struck, its breath a hot and withering blast reminiscent of corrupt, gangrenous flesh that induced gagging.

Only an instinctive sword slash and twist of the torso saved his life.

Still, teeth raked over armor, and the impact knocked him back several meters.

Connor tucked his limbs and head in tight and rolled, but the rubble was unforgiving, scraping exposed flesh and tearing through cloth.

He tumbled to his feet and staggered, barely managing to keep his balance.

The snake didn’t let up, closing and snapping.

With each snap, Connor got a blade up in time to nick the thing’s pointy snout or gash at the sickly, gray gums the dagger-sharp teeth protruded from.

At best, those teeth were coated in filthy bacteria that would create septic wounds.

More likely, the teeth were in fact fangs that could deliver venom.

Keeping the swords between him and the monster was the only option.

Connor backpedaled until the floor felt clear of debris. He put his back toward an open space. “Elise?”

“I’m okay!”

The snake slowed, then stopped, black eyes glistening like polished obsidian.

Was it intelligent enough to know they were talking?

He took a step to the left, back toward the archaeologist. “Find my Asp.”

“That machine gun?”

“It’s not high-powered ammunition. You can handle it.”

It had to be his imagination, but the snake’s head seemed to turn slightly.

How could it possibly know they were talking about the gun?

Of course, he thought. He wasn’t dealing with an animal but a…

What was the thing? Something created by whatever was imprisoned far below, certainly, but the thing had substance. It had knocked the breath out of him and sent him sprawling across the floor.

So the creature was whole. It was substantial, intelligent, and deadly.

And apparently it had decided to give Elise a look again.

It twisted around and sped back toward the light.

Connor gave chase, but its sinuous movements denied him a target. “It’s coming for you!”

Elise shrieked, then the sound of rocks being tossed around almost drowned that out.

She ran up a debris pile, then jumped, with the thing close behind.

Connor saw where it was going and ran at an angle to intercept it. If it could twist around and strike, that would be a problem.

It whipped back around, and Connor jumped and spun—

—just in time to avoid the blow.

A tooth caught on the material of his pants, tearing through and knocking him off-balance.

He crashed onto the rubble, but this time got his boots under him.

At least he had the snake’s attention now.

It plunged toward him again, missing by millimeters when he jumped and tumbled across the floor.

The chase began anew, with Connor barely staying ahead of the snapping jaw.

At least he had one piece of information: It could only strike forward.

Finally, he was in the darkness at the far end of the room, and the creature stopped.

All Connor could do was watch the shape formed against the distant glow when the monster moved. On infrared, its heat was almost lost against the room’s warmth. Ultraviolet required a meaningful light source to be useful.

He extended the sword tips. “I think it wants to keep us separated.”

Elise snorted. “I think it wants us dead.”

“That, too.” Connor moved parallel to the wall behind him. “Did you get the Asp?”

“You promise not to laugh?”

“I don’t think I can find much funny right now.”

The snake edged in the same direction he was moving; it could see fine.

Elise sighed. “I thought the snake wanted to keep me away from the gun. It went straight to it.”

“Okay. I’m getting the impression it’s not a simple animal.”

“I could make a run for the gun again.”

The snake stopped pacing Connor.

That wasn’t coincidence—not twice in a row like that.

It twisted around just a little bit.

Then it darted back across the room.

Connor sprinted after it. “It’s coming again!”

Once more, Elise screamed.

This time, Connor saw that she was running toward a large slab that leaned against the wall at an angle that would let her slip in behind it.

Unfortunately, the snake saw that, too, and it shifted direction to cut her off from the slab.

She shrieked and sped back toward the Asp.

The monster somehow managed even more speed, and headed for the gun.

Connor pointed toward the slab. “Get under there!”

That was all the archaeologist needed to hear. She hopped and ducked low, speeding as best as she could over the piles of debris to get to the slab.

Now the snake stopped and changed course again, trying to get to her before she could reach the slab.

But Connor had stayed on his course.

When Elise and the snake had angled for the machine gun, he’d shot full speed for the slab.

He reached it first, maybe a second before Elise, who disappeared behind it.

Then the snake surged toward her, snapping and blowing its foul breath.

Connor’s boots found traction on the textured concrete. His momentum carried him up the steep incline until he was over the coiling serpent striking at Elise’s protective cover.

The slab shook from the impact, but he was near the top.

He jumped, tucked his knees in, and flipped backwards.

Below him, the black snake struck the slab again, sending clouds of dust into the air.

Connor came out of his flip, arms held out wide, blades extended.

As he fell, he tightened his grip on the hilts.

At the last moment, the serpent’s glistening, black eyes came up, locking on Connor’s falling form.

It wriggled around for a strike, mouth open.

Except Connor’s legs were already past its head. Only his torso and head remained for a forward strike.

And now he had the blades ready for a strike of his own.

The thing launched itself, uncoiling with terrifying speed.

But it launched too late.

Connor’s swords punched through scales and bone, and then his mass and momentum bore it to the ground, where the impact drove the weapons the rest of the way through.

He backed away until the writhing and twisting stopped, then planted a boot into its head and pulled out his swords.
Ill Fortune
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