Page 50 of Eat, Slay, Love

Jonah looks at me first, his mouth forming a soundless word. Mine.

He turns. He hits Belvedere like a wrecking ball.

The two of them slam into the far wall, bricks collapsing inward under the impact. Jonah’s claws drive into Belvedere’s shoulders, pinning him. Black blood splashes across Jonah’s chest. Belvedere retaliates instantly, slamming his fist into Jonah’s spine hard enough to crack bone.

Jonah doesn’t stop. He bites down on Belvedere’s shoulder, teeth sinking deep, hands glowing faintly as he siphons, pulling rot out of him in ragged, desperate pulls.

Belvedere howls and throws him off.

Jonah hits the ground hard, rolls, pushes himself upright again on legs that should not still function. “Run,” he rasps at me. “Please. Listen to me. Please.”

I laugh weakly. “Absolutely not. Not this time.”

Belvedere raises his hand, and the air tightens around Jonah. An invisible force crushes inward. Jonah’s ribs bow under the pressure. Blood spills from his mouth as he falls.

I scream and hurl everything I have left. Energy explodes from my palms and slams into Belvedere’s side, forcing him off balance. I follow it, plunging my dagger deep into his back between two ribs while he’s distracted.

He reacts faster than I thought possible. His hand shoots backward and punches clean through my rib cage.

For a moment, I don’t understand what’s happened. I feel pressure before pain, his arm buried inside me, fingers curling somewhere near my spine. My breath vanishes. My vision fractures.

He withdraws his hand.

Blood pours down my stomach, hot and unstoppable. My legs collapse beneath me. I fall to my knees, hands instinctively pressing against the wound as if I can force myself to stay inside my own body.

As I kneel on the jagged concrete, memories flicker through my vision. Jonah hoarding me in his bed. Feeding me. His hands smoothing over Batibat’s fur. I think of him tucking me under the duvet, asking if he could keep me.

Belvedere turns fully now, his expression sharpened with ancient fury. He backhands me across the face hard enough to send me skidding across the pavement. My skull strikes concrete, and the world dissolves into agonizing pain.

Jonah roars. He collides with Belvedere again, claws tearing, horns lowered, his entire body driven by something feral and absolute. He drives Belvedere into the opposite wall, bricks exploding outward. His hands glow brighter now, feeding, ripping rot away in violent surges.

Belvedere retaliates by grabbing Jonah’s horns and slamming his head repeatedly into the wall. The sound is sickening; bone and stone cracking together. He twists and drives his hand straight through Jonah’s abdomen.

Jonah gasps.

The sound is small. Devastating.

Belvedere pulls his arm free and flings Jonah aside like discarded fabric. He lands somewhere near me, blood pooling beneath him, his breath shallow and uneven.

I drag myself toward him, leaving a smear behind me. Every movement tears the wound wider. My vision pulses at the edges.

Belvedere approaches, limping slightly now, suit ruined, face streaked with blood and fury.

“You cannot protect each other,” he says calmly. “You are both dying.”

He lifts his hand.

My magic answers faintly, flickering like a dying signal. I press my palm flat against the pavement and force the last scraps of energy into a binding word carved beneath him. The symbol ignites weakly.

Belvedere tears it apart with contemptuous ease.

Jonah shifts beside me, forcing himself onto one elbow despite the blood pouring from his body. His claws extend again, trembling violently.

“No,” I whisper.

He lunges anyway.

Belvedere catches him midair and slams him down next to me, hard enough to crack the pavement beneath us. Jonah’s body spasms, then stills except for the shallow rise of his chest.