The roar that followed was something she knew all too well. The beast was ready for his Happy Meal, and that whole rafter-relocation thing was its way of getting into the container.

Mary tripped over something—oh, God, it was a lesser that was missing an arm—and kept going, blowing another whistle. And a third—

The beast froze, its flanks pumping in and out, purple scales flashing in the darkness as if the thing were lit from within by an electrical source.

The fourth whistle brought its head around.

Slowing her run, Mary cupped her hands to her mouth. “Come here! Come on, boy!”

Like the beast was just the world’s largest dog.

The dragon let out a chuff and then blew through its nostrils, the sound something between a whoopee cushion and a jet engine taking off.

“Come here, you!” she said. “Leave that alone. It’s not yours.”

The beast looked back at what was now just four brick walls and not much else, and a snarl curled its black lip off jagged teeth that would have given a great white dental insecurity. But like a German shepherd called to heel by its trainer, Rhage’s curse turned away from its deconstruction job and bounded over to her.

As the dragon came through the weeds and brambles, its great weight shook the ground so badly, Mary had to put her arms out for balance.

But, impossible though it seemed, the thing was smiling at her, its gruesome face transformed by a joy that she wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t seen it every time she was around the monster.

Stretching her hands up, she greeted that great, dropped head with soft words of praise, putting her palm on its circular cheek, letting it breathe in her scent and hear her voice. In her peripheral vision, she saw two people break out of the ruined building—make that one person who was able-bodied and running hard, and another who was up on a strong shoulder, obviously injured.

She didn’t dare look directly at them to see who it was. Their best chance was her connection with the curse—and it was strange. As ugly as the thing was, as terrifying and deadly as it could be . . . she felt an abiding love warm her body. Her Rhage was in there somewhere, trapped under the layers of muscle and scales and third-party cognition, but more than that, she adored the beast as well—

The shots came from the right, and on instinct, she shouted and ducked to cover her head.

The dragon took over from there, wheeling toward the shooters at the same time it managed to wrap its tail around Mary and tuck her in against its flank. And then they were on the move. The ride was a rough one, like a mechanical bull suffering from power surges, and she held on to one of the larger barbs for dear life.

Thank God for that bony protrusion. Because what happened next involved a whole lot of “Twist and Shout.”

First there were screams. Terrible, nightmare screams that she would have covered her ears to block out—except she didn’t dare let go and risk getting thrown free—

Up and over.

A slayer, which was leaking like a sieve, went flying over the beast’s back, and black blood hit Mary like bad-stench rain. The thing landed in a broken heap—and the chaser that followed, a second lesser that was likewise over-the-shouldered, hit the first like a boulder.

Oh . . . look. No head. Wonder where that—

Something that was vaguely round and had a face on one side and a thatch of blond hair on the other basketballed across the long grass that had been flattened under the dragon’s enormous hind feet . . . paws . . . claws . . . whatever.

The beast kept her along for the ride for the rest of the fun and games. Talk about a hearty meal. In its wake, arms and legs, more heads—rarely a torso, because that was probably good eating—littered the ground. Fortunately, nothing looked like a Brother or a fighter, but oh, God, the smell. She was going to have to Neti Pot her sinuses for a month after this.

Just as she was losing track of time, right around the moment that she wasn’t sure whether she could hold on for much longer, the beast’s momentum slowed and stopped. Its great head swung left and right. Its body pivoted around. More with the searching.

The landscape seemed empty of anything that moved, nothing but static, decaying buildings, trees without leaves, and dark shadows that stayed put wherever she looked. The Brothers had to still be on the campus; no way they would leave without Rhage. But no doubt they were watching the great dragon from behind good cover. And as for the slayers? The balance of the enemy must have either taken off, been incapacitated, or gotten eaten.

The massive attack seemed to be over . . .

Dear Lord, the carnage left behind. How were they going to clean this up? There had to be a hundred lessers on the ground writhing, even if they were just in bits and pieces.

Mary patted her palm against the tail’s thick base. “Thank you for keeping me safe. You can put me down now.”

The beast wasn’t as confident as she was and continued to survey the battle scene, the muscles of its shoulders twitching, those huge haunches tensed and ready to jump. Clouds of hot breath steamed out of its nostrils, flaring in the cold night air like part of a magician’s show.

“It’s all right,” she said, stroking those scales.

Funny, she would have thought the things would be rough, but they were smooth and flexible, a fine interlacing of layers that shifted with the dragon’s movements and flashed all the colors of a rainbow on top of a purple base.

“Really, it’s all right.”

After a moment, the beast’s barbed hold on her uncoiled, and she stepped off onto the ground. Tugging her coat and her clothes back into place, she glanced around.

Then she put her hands on her hips and stared upward. “Okay, big guy, you did a great job. Thank you. I’m proud of you.” As the thing chuffed and lowered its head, she petted the snout. “It’s time to go, though. Can you let Rhage come back?”

That great head tossed in the air, the black blood of the lessers it had consumed flashing like an oil coating down its throat and chest. Snapping its jaws twice, the teeth and fangs locked with a sound like two SUVs slamming into each other grille-to-grille. The roar that came next was one of protest.

“It’s okay,” she murmured as she stood at its feet. “I love you.”

The beast lowered its muzzle and chuffed out moist air.

And then justlikethat, its body collapsed, a sand castle hit with a wave, a wax figurine heated into a dissolved puddle. In its place, Rhage appeared facedown on the ground, his tremendous tattooed back curving around, his naked legs tucked in as if his stomach bothered him already.

“Rhage,” she said as she crouched beside him. “You’re back, my love.”

When there was no response, not even an I’m-about-to-barf groan, she frowned. “Rhage . . . ?”

As she put her hand on his shoulder, the tattooed image of the dragon in his skin came alive, shifting around so that its head was under her touch.

“Rhage?” she repeated

Why wasn’t he moving? Usually he would be disoriented and in pain, but he always turned to her, just as the beast’s tattoo did, blindly seeking her voice, her touch, their connection.

“Rhage.”

Reaching for his upper arm, she put all her strength into pulling him over flat against the ground.

“Oh . . . God . . . !”

There was red blood on his chest. In the midst of all the black stains from what the beast had consumed, there was a very real, very terrifying, and very expanding fount of red blood in the center of his torso.

“Help!” she screamed at the landscape. “Help!”

The Brothers were already coming from every direction, abandoning their covers, sprinting across the battlefield that was strewn with mutilated slayers. And right on their heels, like a beacon from a benevolent god, was Manny’s mobile surgical unit—and the RV was heading for them like the good doctor’s foot was heavy on the accelerator.