Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
"Good." I kept my eyes on the stairs. "Focus on Akiro."
An enemy broke from the smoke on my left and raised his gun at my head. Hiro shot him between the eyes without turning his body.
The man dropped.
“I’m always focused.” Hiro kept walking.
I grinned.
Forty feet.
Thirty.
Twenty.
Goryū held Akiro's body in that invisible vise and the fire still poured from his shadow jaws and Akiro still stood frozen on the stairs with his kusarigama dead in his grip.
Then Goryū's voice entered my head. He has our father’s blood. He is fighting me.
I began to feel it through the bond—a tremor in the hold, a vibration, a crack forming in a dam.
I cannot hold him much longer.
Try.
He is strong.
I’m almost there.
Ten feet from the stairs.
Akiro's right hand twitched. His fingers curled around the kusarigama's handle. His shoulder rolled one inch forward. His jaw clenched so hard I saw the muscles bunch even from the base of the steps.
He was breaking free through sheer will, and I saw the exact second it happened. His whole body jolted forward like a man shocked by cold water, and his eyes went wide, and the kusarigama rose.
While the twins, Reo, and Hiro handled all of Akiro’s men trying to stop us, I got to the bottom of the stairs and began to climb.
Akiro spun the chain.
The heavy ball at the end whistled through the air in a tight arc above his head. The sickle blade shimmered. He had ten feet of reach with that weapon and the skill to use every inch.
I aimed Totoro at him and squeezed.
The flame roared up the stairs.
Akiro sidestepped.
The fire passed his left shoulder and scorched the hatch frame behind him.
The metal glowed orange.
Akiro swung the chain low.
The heavy ball hit the side of Totoro's barrel with a crack that ran up both my arms.
Fuck.
The barrel dented. The flame coughed once and steadied.
I adjusted and fired again.
Akiro dropped to one knee on the stairs and the fire sailed over his head. He whipped the chain up from the crouch and the links wrapped around Totoro's barrel three times before I could pull back.
The metal cinched tight.
The sickle blade caught the edge of the fuel housing.
Akiro yanked.
Totoro lurched in my grip. The fuel tank groaned. I braced my feet on the bottom step and pulled back, and for one full second we were locked in a tug-of-war with my flame torch between us.
Akiro twisted and whipped the kusarigama away, ending the tug-of-war. Then he swung it from the side and hit the fuel housing with a hollow metal punch that vibrated through my ribs.
No.
The tank dented inward. A thin line of gel fuel leaked from the seam and ran down the barrel.
"There goes the breath of the Dragon!" A deranged smile spread across Akiro’s face. "Now watch the whole beast begin to suffocate."
The flame sputtered.
Goddamn it.
“Welcome, brother! I like your cute little mask.” Akiro hit Totoro again. Same spot. The valve cracked. Fuel poured free, thick and gel-like, sliding across the metal and dripping to the stairs.
Totoro died in my hands. The flame went out. The barrel went dark. The last wisp of heat rose from the nozzle and disappeared.
“You should have told me that this would be a masquerade ball!” Akiro laughed. “I thought this was war!”
I released Totoro and let the dead torch clang to the stairs. Now I would have to battle with my guns and hands. “Come here, Akiro! I want to show you my mask’s detail!”
“I would.” Akiro swung the ball back to him and kept it ready to attack. “But. . .it appears my ride is ready to leave.”
“But let’s have one last dance!”
“Sorry, brother. I only dance with women.” Akiro winked. “I’ll leave the weird stuff to you and Hiro.”
Behind Akiro, the plane's engines screamed louder. The propellers roared. The body of the aircraft shuddered as the power climbed. They were preparing for takeoff.
Goryū. I pulled both silver guns from my holsters and flipped the switches to both—bullets and fire. Nyomi's blood was still on the barrels dried dark against the silver, and that upped my energy. This plane cannot rise.
I will try to harm it.
More men spilled out of the plane, raced around Akiro, and began to come down the stairs.
Goryū rose from the hull in a column of churning black smoke. His wings spread wide, and the moonlight disappeared behind them. He climbed thirty feet above the plane and then dove, driving himself down across the left engine nacelle with shadow-fire pouring from every inch of his body.
The engine coughed. The propeller on that side stuttered, caught, stuttered again. A thin trail of dark smoke leaked from the housing.
But that was it.
Everything kept on going.
Come on, Goryū.
He circled and hit the engine again. More shadow-fire. More smoke from the housing. The propeller jerked and slowed.