Darklands by Nancy Holzner

hundred miles an hour.
    Think, Vicky.
My body still wanted to become a bird and use the air to hold itself up. But that wouldn’t work, I reminded myself; not in a dream. During a shift, the animal brain takes over, and the shift can last for hours. Even if I could find the dream portal and remember what it was, I couldn’t speak thepassword that would let me through. If Phyllis woke up while I was in bird form, the portal would close and I’d dissolve into her dreams. No, the way to get out of here wasn’t by changing myself. I’d have to manipulate Phyllis’s dreamscape.
    Not that I had a lot to work with. To my left, the building I’d been pushed from flashed by. All its doors were closed. There were no knobs, nothing to grab and stop my fall. Reaching forward, I changed my position and dived straight for one. I braced for impact but bounced off it like it was made of rubber. I tried again. This time I shouted, “Open!” right before I hit. No luck. I bounced back into the sky, still falling.
    I glanced downward. Still no sign of the ground.
    Okay, there were other opening spells and commands. I’d try “open sesame” next.
    I angled myself to take another dive when a shadow fell over me. Something grabbed my waist.
    Oof!
The air whooshed out of my lungs as my fall suddenly stopped.
    Inside my sweater, the InDetect clicked to life. The arms that held my waist were scaly and slimy. I cocked my head upward and saw leathery wings and a hideous, fanged face.
    I’d come here to catch Phyllis’s demons. Now, one of them had caught me.
    The demon clutched me to its chest. When it saw me looking, it snarled and dug in its talons. It flapped its wings, and we moved upward in a wide, slow spiral.
    High above us, the black-painted door hung open. We seemed to be heading for it. Probably the Drude wanted solid ground under its feet before it tore off my head and drank my blood.
    My pistol was gone, but I still had several knives strapped to my body. I reached toward the sheath I wore on my hip. As soon as this demon landed, I’d bury eight inches of bronze in its gut.
    The demon sensed my movement. With a nasty laugh, it pinned my arms against my sides. Holding me with its left arm, it frisked me with its right hand. One by one, it plucked my daggers from their sheaths and threw them into the void.
    So much for that idea.
    I tried wishing for a weapon—sometimes that works in dreams—but nothing materialized. And we were almost up to the black door.
    I had one last, desperate idea. My weapons were gone, but I still had some bronze.
    My right hand was pressed against the front pocket of my jeans, the pocket that held my spare clip of bronze bullets. The way my hand covered the magazine, the demon had missed it while frisking me.
    Moving as unobtrusively as possible, I worked the magazine from my pocket. My fingers found the groove at its top, and I thumbed out the first bullet of the clip. Clutching it with three fingers, I removed another, then let the magazine drop. I passed a bullet into my left hand and clenched the two bullets tightly, one in each fist.
    We’d ascended higher than the open door. I could see it below us, about fifty yards away. The demon dived toward it, folding its wings at the last moment to get through the doorway.
    As soon as we touched the floor, I was ready. I wrenched out of the Drude’s grasp, spun around, and shoved both bullets up its nose.
    The demon’s yellow eyes squinted in puzzlement, then opened wide. The skin of its face bubbled. It clawed at its nostrils as its nose collapsed and the bullets went deeper into its head. Sulfurous smoke billowed as it staggered backward toward the open door. I slammed both hands into its chest, pushing it through. I managed to shut the door seconds before the demon’s head exploded with a thunderous boom. Chunks of flesh and bone slapped against the door.
    My legs were shaky on the solid floor. My knees buckled, and I sat down hard. I stayed that