never pass into it. Her plan had worked. She’d given them enough time to escape. Her fingers eased off the brake and she began to accelerate. If she could make it to the tunnel herself, she would be safe.
Overhead the screeching of the gargoyles persisted as they swooped, their clawlike hands grabbing at her. She swerved, just barely avoiding injury. Only a quarter of a mile left and she would be within the securing darkness of the tunnel.
Then it happened, so fast that she didn’t have time to duck. A huge shadow appeared in her path, blotting out the moon. It swooped, heading toward her with a speed that was bound to cause a ruinous collision.
Tatiana swerved as she tried to avoid it, but her motorcycle collapsed to the side and she went skidding off the road. The fall down the short decline tossed her from the motorcycle, and she struck a thick oak that shrouded the area.
She groaned and tried to sit up, but she was too weak. She could hear the sounds of heavy beating against the air. It slowed, and a large figure, silhouetted by the still-beaming lights of her motorcycle, descended from the sky. She squinted as it approached, trying desperately to fight the sweet escape of unconsciousness that was creeping over her.
As the figure drew nearer, the distinguishing designs of a metal breastplate became apparent. It was the leader of the Drago clan himself. She knew she faced death, but she wasn’t ready to die, not like this. She mustered enough strength to inch away, but that was all she could do. Her time had come. At least she’d proven herself. Merciful darkness enveloped her.
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