“Two of’em,” Top said.

Then we heard it behind us.

“Three,” Bunny said.

I turned. “More than that,” I said. At least four of the weird shapes filled the darkness of the ramp that led outside. They ran toward us with frightening speed.

“Jesus Christ,” Bunny said, and I turned as one of the creatures moved through a patch of light.

It was a dog. Or it had started out that way. God only knows what you’d call it now. The body was as broad and solid as a bullmastiff, the hair midnight black. The face was a twisted parody of a dog’s, but the snout and head were covered with what I first thought was some kind of armor like they used to put on fighting dogs centuries ago. I could have dealt with mastiffs in armor. That was scary, but it wasn’t nightmare stuff.

But as the creature moved back through the lamplight I saw that the armor ran all the way down its back and covered its sides, where it eventually thinned and blended with the dog’s natural fur. The armor plating gleamed like polished leather. But what sent a flash of horror all the way down through my brain and heart and guts was what rose above the dog’s back. It wasn’t a dog’s tail. The appendage that curled over the massive back and shoulders of the dog was a huge, segmented scorpion tail.

There were at least a dozen of them now… closing on all sides.

The one in the spill of light paused, its tail trembling above it, the stinger dripping hot venom. Its muzzle wrinkled back to show rows of sharp white teeth and it glared at us with eyes as black as the Devil’s.

With a monstrous howl of unnatural hate, the creature ran at us.

And then the others rushed at us from all sides.

Chapter One Hundred Seventeen

The Chamber of Myth

Tuesday, August 31, 2:28 A.M.

Time Remaining on the Extinction Clock: 33 hours, 32 minutes E.S.T.

There was a sharp crack, and a bullet cut through the darkness so close that Grace could feel the heat. She threw herself to one side and crashed into a row of thorny shrubs. Needles jabbed her and plucked at her clothing as she rolled over the shrubs and scrabbled to find solid ground. She kept her pistol by sheer luck and was glad of the lethal promise of it as she fumbled her way through the absolute blackness. All around her exotic creatures screamed in voices never before heard outside of nightmares.

“What happened to the lights?”

“It’s a fail-safe,” Hecate said. “If there’s gunfire in the building the whole facility goes into a forced lockdown.”

“Did you hit her?” someone asked. Grace thought it was Otto.

“I don’t know,” came the reply. Both voices were off to her right, so Grace kept moving to her left. The ground sloped under her and she crouched low, using her free hand to feel for obstacles.

“The security lights will be on any moment,” said Hecate, and as if to punctuate her words several overhead lights flared on. The light was weak but more than enough to see by. Grace dodged behind a mound of clover and flattened out.

Hecate led her father to a cleft in a rock wall. Otto squeezed in with them. Tonton and Veder found cover behind nearby foliage.

“Who was that bitch?” demanded Otto. “Was she one of yours?”

“No,” said Hecate. “I thought she was one of yours.”

“I don’t care who she is,” snapped Cyrus. “Veder, kill her.”

The assassin moved off without a word, melting into the foliage and vanished without a trace.

“Tonton,” said Hecate, “hunt.”

The Berserker grinned broadly and ran in the direction where Grace had been. As soon as he reached the waterfall he stopped, bent low, and sniffed; then he turned and ran down the path.

“What’s he doing?” asked Otto.

“He has more than ape strength,” said Hecate. “We’ve been experimenting with them, giving them additional combat useful skills. His olfactory senses are much sharper than a human’s. He’ll sniff her out.”

GRACE HEARD THE big man coming. She was down several rounds, so she quickly swapped out her magazine and found a spot with limited access from behind. She could command a three-sided view. While she shifted she processed what she had learned. One point was the name of the man who looked like Haeckel and Brucker. Cyrus had called him first Conrad and then Veder. Conrad Veder was another of the assassins of the Brotherhood of the Scythe.

A strange idea occurred to her and as she thought it she somehow knew that it was true. Haeckel and Veder were two of the four assassins of the Brotherhood. They looked identical, and it was no stretch under the present circumstances to accept that they were clones from the same cell line. It seemed likely that all four of the assassins of the Brotherhood were clones. The same level of skill because they were all, in essence, the same person. Was deadly accuracy and a coldness of heart hardwired into the genetic code? She didn’t know and would have to explore that with Hu and Rudy one of these days.

At the moment she had to focus on the big killer who was coming her way. The one Hecate had called Tonton. The Berserker moved with a surprising economy of movement, leaping over rocks, climbing with simian ease, hopping from rock to rock across a stream. Grace steadied her pistol and waited until he was within perfect pistol range.

TONTON SUDDENLY STOPPED and crouched low, his eyes scanning the ground. He followed the path the woman must have taken, and he knew where it led. If she got into the cleft by the south corner, then she would have solid rock at her back and a flat shooting platform. He smiled. If he’d taken three more steps, his head would have risen above the hump of the next hill and that would have been the ball game.

“Smart bitch,” he murmured.

He turned and ran to his right into the brush. She may have the better position, but he knew every inch of the Chamber of Myth.

VEDER HAD NO intention of trailing the woman through the dense jungle environment of this chamber. It was foolish and it was a waste of his skills. Instead he scouted the terrain and picked out the three or four best places to set an ambush. If this woman was smart, she would be in one of them. Veder carefully surveyed the angles of each. They were all good, but there was one-a ledge that was partially screened by tendrils of Spanish moss-that offered an angle to the other two. If the woman was not there, then he could crawl onto the ledge and wait until that ape found her. If the Berserker killed her, so much the better. Veder wasn’t being paid extra for this. If the woman killed the Berserker, then Veder would be able to find the spot from which she fired and then he’d take her out.

The decision was a practical one. Once he made it, Veder pocketed his pistol and began to climb.