"Ivy's in the way," Jenks said tightly. Giving both Jumoke and Vincet a look to stay grounded, Jenks darted after her, coming to a halt at her shoulder as his partner stopped eight feet back from Daryl. The spicy scent of vampire spun through him, seeming to shift his own dust a darker tint. Ivy was pissed. Hell, even her aura was sparkling.
Seeing them together, Daryl dropped her sword, flushed as she looked at Ivy's tight clothes and anger. "You're aligned with the pixy? Who are you? A goddess?"
"Ooo! Ooo!" Jenks said, looping the bow over his shoulder so he could have both hands free for his own sword. "I've heard this one before. Just say yes, Ivy."
Ivy was eyeing Daryl with the same evaluation. "Worse," she said softly, and Jenks shuddered. "I'm heir to madness. Vessel of perversion. Your nightmare should you cross me."
Daryl's chin lifted, trembling. "Indeed. We might be sisters then, for I'm the same."
Ivy hunched slightly, eyeing the woman almost hungrily. "You hurt my friends." A long hand went out, beckoning. Her lips drew back in a horrible smile, and she let her small but sharp canines show. "Can you hurt me?"
The nymph blinked as the moonlight hit them, then she tightened her sword grip.
The air seemed to hesitate, and when Bis's nails scraped, Ivy jerked, jumping at her.
Jenks shot straight up, yelling, "Get her away from the statue so I can blow it up!"
"You can't!" Daryl cried out, moving impossibly fast as she dodged out of Ivy's attack. Her sword was swinging toward Ivy's back, and Jenks yelled a warning.
Ivy dropped. Daryl's sword point missed, but just. Rolling backward, Ivy tried to knock Daryl down, but the nymph jumped straight up. Ivy was standing when she landed, and the two women hesitated, looking at each other in surprise and what might be respect.
"Blow it up, Jenks!" Ivy called out. "I'll get out of the way!"
Jenks's mouth dropped open. Holy shit. Ivy didn't know if she could take her or not.
Darting back to the rock for protection, he sheathed his sword and pulled an arrow from his quiver. "Everyone get behind the rock!" he shouted. "Jumoke, the firepot!"
Leathery wings shaking, Bis scrambled behind the rock. Vincet fought his child as he dragged her to safety, the freedom-hungry dryad screaming. Vi was only a year old. Her tiny body couldn't take this. She was dusting heavily, glowing like a demon as the energy of the ley line ran through her. Vincet's own tears turned to dust as he fought to keep her from attacking Daryl-but he looked up at Jenks with hope.
"Here, Dad!" Jumoke shouted, taking off the lid. The scraping of the lid was loud, and Jenks buried the tip of the arrow in it. Immediately the wad of dandelion fluff ignited. Matalina was the real archer, he thought as he took aim and the arrow arched away. Fortunately, all he had do to was hit the statue. "Fire in the hold!" he shouted. "Everyone down!"
"No!" Daryl screamed, stretching her hand out. A flash of wind came at him, and he went tumbling backward, but a pained cry echoed, and the force immediately died.
When he found air again under his wings, his arrow was lost and the statue untouched. Daryl was writhing on the cement, downed by Ivy in the instant the nymph lost her concentration. Ivy herself looked winded, holding her arm where the nymph's sword had scored on her.
"Rhenoranian, help me!" Daryl said, coughing as she got to her knees, undeterred.
Expression pinched, Ivy strode forward, but Daryl groaned, kneeling as she shoved the air at her with both hands.
"Watch out!" Bis cried as Ivy was flung back to land in the flower bed beside Sylvan's statue as if having been pulled by a string. Frustrated, Jenks lowered his next arrow, not yet lit.
"Let me be your strength, Rhenoranian!" Daryl said, staggering to her feet. "Let me be your vessel!" She turned to Jenks, and his wings went cold. "Let me be your vengeance!"
Worried, Jenks darted up, then down. He couldn't see the ley line she was pulling on, but the force of it made his wings tingle. Daryl pointed at him with a new confidence, and then Ivy's scream echoed against the dark windows across the street. Motions blurring, the battle began again. Twelve feet up, Jenks watched, useless bow in hand and knowing he wouldn't be able to shoot until Ivy downed the nymph. Daryl kept pushing Ivy back to the statue.
Moving faster than seemed possible, Daryl ducked Ivy's crescent kick, only to fall when Ivy continued the spin and knocked her feet out from under her.
The nymph hit the ground, coughing. Ivy jumped into the air, elbow poised and clearly ready to slam it into Daryl's throat as she fell to hit the dirt beside her.
Daryl saw it coming and pulled her sword up to protect her throat. Ivy screamed, knowing she couldn't move enough to avoid being cut. The blade nicked Daryl's face, too, upon impact, but it protected her throat. Ivy was hurt more.
The small success seemed to galvanize the nymph, who staggered to her feet when Ivy rolled away holding her numb elbow. Swinging her blade in a wide arc, she waited-grimacing.
Like a mad thing, Ivy rushed her, plowing her foot right into her solar plexus between the gaps of the blade.
Daryl bent, and Ivy lashed out with a front kick, snapping the nymph's head back.
And still the woman wouldn't go down, falling back as she tried to find her breath.
"Now, Jenks!" Ivy called out, and Jenks dropped down to the rock and the firepot.
One hand to her middle, Daryl groaned, staggering to a stand. "Help me, Rhenoranian!" she screamed, shaking hand outstretched.
The wind came from everywhere. The black roared. It beat at the trees. Jenks tumbled, fighting it.
"Stop!" Ivy shouted, and when Jenks squinted, he saw she had yanked the nymph up and was pinning her to the tree across from her statue. "Stop, or I will f**king kill you!"
"Let me go, or I will pierce your liver," the nymph said, her teeth gritted.
"Oh, shit," Jenks whispered, seeing the glint of metal at Ivy's side.
Screaming down from the hills, the wind circled them like wolves. A small spot of stillness grew, surrounded by a wall of gray and black fury. The lights of Cincinnati vanished as if behind water. Even the ever-present thumps of industry were gone, overpowered by the chugging of the wind.
But here, in Daryl's sacred grove, the moon shone down in perfect stillness.
Jenks glanced to Jumoke peeping up from behind the rock as the torn leaves drifted down, gesturing for him to stay. Vi had stopped struggling. Her breath rasped like oven air, and her wings were starting to smolder by the acrid smell now pinching his nose.