Reive didn't care what Mace could do. "Can we try to put as much space as possible between ourselves and anything stone? Maybe tip down some of these bookcases? If there's anywhere in here with space to move around, I—we can fight more effectively."
"The center of the library," Gio said decisively. "It's where the treasures of my collection are kept."
Even as he spoke, there was a crash from somewhere up ahead. Reive and Jess shared a fast look.
"Like the book we came here to see, for example?" Jess said.
"That's where they are," Reive murmured.
He started to run, made it a single step, and looked back at Jess, torn.
"If that's the book, go get it!" Jess yelled, giving him a push.
He hesitated, desperately worried. "But you—"
She pushed him again. "I'll be fine! I'll just hide. Don't worry about me! I'm telling you—go get the book!"
Reive surged ahead, running.
There was a cleared space up ahead, surrounded by bookcases. The ceiling was higher here, and there were a number of glass cases and pedestals for holding individual books.
There was also a familiar black-robed figure just lifting a leatherbound book from the shattered remains of a broken glass case.
"You!" Reive snarled.
He started to shift on the run, and then he stumbled, his dragon emerging sluggishly. As a dragon, he was too wide for the narrow aisles; books toppled and shelves tipped sideways, and he knew he was leaving a swath of destruction through Gio's library. His right front leg wouldn't work; he had to run on three legs.
None of it mattered. The important thing was to catch up to that cultist creep before he got away with Reive's one hope of a cure.
Black Robe turned his head and saw an enraged dragon bearing down on him. The look on his face was totally worth it.
Then he clamped the book under his arm to free a hand. He had replaced his ruined black robe with another one, and now he ripped it open to reveal his bare chest. Rune-like patterns started to glow.
Oh no you don't. Now that he knew how this guy worked, Reive wasn't about to give him a chance to get his magic ready.
Reive barreled into him at full speed.
—or tried to. Instead he skidded sideways as if he'd hit a greased plastic bubble, and crashed into a row of bookshelves.
Reive staggered to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. The guy had some kind of shield.
But even through the shield, the impact had still knocked Black Robe down. The robe billowed out, the magician hit the ground hard, and the book went skidding across the floor.
Reive lunged for it. Black Robe got there first. Reive whapped him with a paw, knocking him backward, and slapped his paw down on the book, covering it with his giant claws.
Now he could do what he should have done before: shift human, and then shift back to dragon form, taking the book with him into wherever dragon shifters' clothes went when they transformed. It would be safe there as long as he was a dragon.
But he hadn't accounted for the devastating weakness of his body.
Shifting had been a struggle the first time, and it was even more of a fight to get himself back to human form. He came through on his knees, his hand shrinking down to normal human proportions, spread out on the scuffed cover of the book. His stone arm dangled uselessly at his side.
From the stiff, aching feeling of his rib cage, the stone patches on his side had spread measurably. He was starting to have trouble breathing. A wave of dizziness washed over him.
This is bad.
He wasn't sure if he could shift back. And even if he could, he didn't know if he could do it without passing out.
"Give me that," the magician said.
Reive looked up. Black Robe had gotten to his feet and pushed down the robe, leaving him bare to the waist—Show-off, Reive thought. For the first time he got to see the guy without the cowl covering half his face. The magician was surprisingly young, perhaps Reive's age, with spiky blond hair. He looked both panicked and determined.
What Reive had taken for tattoos were actually scars in the shape of runes. They were beginning to to glow dully, shedding orange light like a fire's glow coming from inside the magician's body. He held one hand low at his waist and the other raised, the fingers curled into positions that were probably significant.
He was preparing some kind of magic.
"You can't stop me from shifting," Reive said. His mouth tasted metallic, and he kept having to stop to take deep breaths. "And as soon as I shift, I'll have the book, tucked away just like our clothes are when we're shifted. There's nothing you can do about it."
"You're right," the magician said, his voice strained. "But what about ... her?"
He turned and swept out his hands, then drew them back toward his body as if pulling on invisible ropes. Several small cuts burst open on his body in runic patterns, bleeding.
From deeper in the book stacks, Jess gave a yelp. There was a crash.
"Leave her alone!" Reive snarled.
The magician's face was twisted in concentration and what looked like pain. "Damn it," he muttered. "She's so—slippery."
A moment later, Jess came stumbling out of the depths of the book stacks. Rather than tying her up with invisible ropes, he had sandwiched her between two smallish bookcases. She was trapped between them as if in a vice. The lines of force were faintly visible, glowing soft orange like overheated wires.
It was the same spell from before. This guy didn't seem to have very many tricks. As the magician fought to hold onto Jess, Reive could smell a faint scorching smell. The glowing patterns on his skin burned more than fabric.
Those runes, or whatever they are ... they hurt him when he does magic. It's like his own magic is burning him. Cutting through his skin. He can't keep it up for very long.
But it was enough.
"Give me the book, and I'll release her," the magician commanded hoarsely.
"Don't!" Jess gasped. "I'm all right, Reive, really. Just shift like you said you were going to_—ow!"
The magician made a clenching movement with his hands. The bookcases squeezed her, and Jess gave a strangled cry.
"Jess!" It didn't matter if the magician got the book, not anymore. Reive drew back, taking his hand off its cover.
"No," Jess gasped out. There were tears in her eyes. "No, Reive, don't—not for me—oh, there's no other way, damn it!"
She began to twist and writhe.
In the first horrified instant, Reive thought she was being manipulated with magic somehow, transformed against her will. Her body writhed and expanded. Her blouse tore down the back, and a pair of wings erupted. Her hands thickened and grew claws.
She was turning into a gargoyle right before his eyes. The magician was doing it to her.
But then Reive became aware of the shocked look on the magician's face. Black Robe didn't know what was happening either.
This was all Jess.
The transformation finished. The rags of her skirt dangled around new, muscular thighs. Stone claws curved from her bigger hands. Her skin had turned gray and rocky.
But her face was still Jess's face, even with fangs. It suited her, somehow. And she didn't look like she was being controlled by anyone. She only looked sad. There were tears on her rocky cheeks. She gave Reive a look of pure agony.