A monster-sized dolphin swims past. It’s got an extra long snout and sharp teeth. Still, it doesn’t seem to notice me and Lincoln.
Nice.
Another shape comes into view. At first, I think it’s a school of fish swirling before me. Then I realize it’s something else entirely. Unlike Lincoln, I’m no expert on dinosaurs. That said, even I know what this thing is.
A megalodon, the biggest-ass shark in the history of ever.
Not gonna lie. This thing is scary as fuck. I could stand upright its opened jaws and still have plenty of space around me. Right now, it doesn’t seem too interested in either me or Lincoln.
Instead, it keeps swimming around in circles.
The shark’s movements reminds me how Striga horse breeders make mares trot about in order to impress potential buyers. Only in this case, the horse is a massive shark. And instead of trying to impress me and Lincoln, Bedlam wants to scare the Hell out of us.
It might be working. A little.
Lincoln gestures to the shark. Since he’s the hunting part of this relationship, Lincoln always goes in for a closer look when it comes to wildlife. My guy is big on avoiding unnecessary kills for innocent living things. For my part, I enjoy not paddling around when my lungs are already burning for air. I shoot him a hearty thumbs-up and Lincoln swims away.
The moment my guy is done, a new version of Bedlam glides into view. This one has green scaly skin along with frilly gils down his neck. He points to his own snake-like face and nods. Then he gestures toward me.
The implication is clear. If I nod now, that will mean I agree with Bedlam… and all this not-breathing will go away.
So I give him a lewd hand gesture instead.
Take that, dickhead.
Reaching into the holster at the base of my spine, I pull out my baculum and ignite them as a long sword. The white flame of the weapon’s blade is instantly surrounded by bubbles as the nearby water boils.
Jutting my arm forward, I ram my sword straight through Bedlam’s heart. The snake version of the Titan of Chaos hunches over, lifeless. One thought echoes through my mind.
That was way too easy.
Not that I can worry any more about Bedlam right now. My lungs ache for air. White dots speckle my vision. I need to reach the surface and fast.
All of which leads to one question.
Where is Lincoln?
6
Lincoln
My body screams to breathe, but I fight back against the urge.
Myla and I must reach the surface. And this megalodon?
It’s our ticket to oxygen.
Sharks must swim forward to stay alive. I just need to change direction on this particular megalodon. To that end, I ignite my baculum into a pair of short swords, swim around to the shark’s side and jam my blades into the edge of the animal’s fin. A shiver runs through the megalodon’s body. It’s regrettable to cause this creature some temporary pain, but it’s our only chance at safety.
Thanks to my weapon, the left fin angles down. The megalodon veers upward and to the right.
With my hands busy, I can’t signal to Myla. I simply must have faith that she’ll figure it out.
She does.
Myla swims over to the megalodon’s right fin. Her eyes glow red as she ignites her own baculum into short swords and punctures the fin’s edge.
Now the megalodon swims straight upward. As we near the surface, I spot a shadowy form in the depths below us. It’s humanoid, green and has scaly skin.
Bedlam. And he looks dead. I’d be relieved if I weren’t internally screaming to breathe.
At last, the megalodon breaks the water’s surface. Myla and I gulp in fresh air. As oxygen hits our system, a heavy indigo-colored mist falls over the ocean. A sense of weight returns to my limbs. My feet hit solid ground.
When the magical cloud vanishes, Myla and I are no longer surrounded by water. Instead, we stand back on the Sahara at the exact same place where we started. Once again, the round entrance stone looms nearby.
Any signs of liquid are gone. Even the water on my clothes has vanished. I turn to Myla. She’s dry as well. “Are you all right?”
She winks. “Just fine and dandy.”
I pull her into a deep embrace. “I saw Bedlam’s body in the water. What happened?”
“Oh, Bedlam thought I’d agree to anything before getting chomped by a shark. So I stabbed him.”
“What a woman you are.” And because I can, I pull her into my arms and kiss her deeply.
My Myla.
7
Myla
Lincoln’s mouth moves over mine. I run my hands over the muscles of his chest. After an adventure, there’s often a rush to celebrate life and get out of our clothes. It’s a definite bonus of demon patrol.
I nip where Lincoln’s neck meets his shoulder—this place makes him crazy. He guides me onto my back and sets his own weight above me. Desire heats my core and awakens my inner lust demon.
Lincoln pauses.
“No one’s around,” I whisper. “And you’re wearing way too much body armor.”
Lincoln leans forward and gently kisses my cheek. Then he rises to stand. “Sadly, we’re on a time schedule.”
I lace my fingers behind my head in a way that says, this is me, not ready to give up sexy desert time.
“What time schedule?” I ask slowly.
“Don’t you recall?”
“Nuh-uh. Wait.” My heart sinks. “We promised our baby sitter to be back already.”
“That we did. But there’s more to it. Shall we head back to the transfer station?”
“What if I say no?”
Lincoln pulls me onto my feet, stopping the momentum when our bodies are only inches apart. “Then I’d counter that we treat our babysitters with respect. And more importantly—” here he nuzzles just behind my ear “—anticipation makes everything better.”
That bastard. This is becoming a competition.
And I do so love to win.
I grin at him for all I’m worth. “I’m all for anticipation,” I state. As I stride away, I take care to shake my backside with extra sass.
I’ll get what I want eventually. I always do.
8
Myla
Lincoln and I head for the nearest Pulpitum transfer station.
It’s not too far as the crow flies, but no crow is stupid enough to go winging over the Sahara. After what feels like forever, we reach our destination. Like all Pulpitum, this one’s magically charmed to be invisible to humans. In this case, it looks like a regular boulder.
Lincoln and I pause outside the Pulpitum. This is our standard routine. Once we get inside the station, the thrax of transfer central can overhear almost everything we say. Best to share mission secrets out of earshot.
Lincoln gestures in the direction of Bedlam’s lair. “We’ll need to get a thrax containment crew over there.”
“Good idea.” The crew in question will identify the human skeletons and make up comforting excuses for their deaths.
“What about Bedlam?” asks Lincoln. “Do you think he’s really dead?”
“I don’t know.” I rub my neck and think through the fight.
“Wasn’t much of a battle, really. Killing him was super easy. And his magic didn’t die out right away afterward. You know the saying, kill the caster, kill the spell .”