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We race for the warehouse and I try not to think about what will happen if we’re too late. We won’t have the killer at all, just another victim.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – ANORA & THE CERCATORE
A scream tears from my throat and I try to pull away, but the creature has my hands held tight in its own and it’s pulling me closer. It turns its head upward toward the ceiling in an unnatural way, unhinging its jaw so its mouth opens wide. It no longer resembles my grandpa. It’s a tall creature made of darkness, with long limbs as pointed as its teeth.
Glass breaks somewhere in the distance and something heavy knocks into me. I hit the ground hard, landing on my back with Natalie over me, hands holding down my arms, her legs clamped tight against mine. I recognize this control. She’s trying to incapacitate me.
“Get off me or I swear—”
“What? You’ll kill me, too?”
For a moment, I go completely still and glare at her, then I realize something’s off about her appearance—most notably, the large black wings sprouting from her back. That’s when I lose it.
“Get off of me! Get away from me!” I thrash, trying to loosen her hold. The thread ignites between us and Natalie springs away. I scramble to my feet and get a good look at her. She’s Natalie alright, but different. She’s leaner, but maybe I never noticed before because she doesn’t wear skin-tight black suits to school. Her hair is slick and straight, falling over her shoulders in a sheet. Then there are the wings—huge sweeping black-metallic things that surround her like a halo.
“Get her out of here!” I freeze—I’d know that voice anywhere.
Shy.
I twist to find him, but he doesn’t look like the Shy I know—his blond hair is silver and falls to his shoulders and black wings spout from his back. He takes my place in front of the thing that looked like my poppa moments earlier, two long blades clasped in his hands.
What is going on?
“Go!” Natalie pushes me forward, and someone grabs my wrist. I try to pull away but recognize the voice.
“It’s me,” Thane says. “Do what they say!”
What the actual hell? Did he just tell me to do what they say? Shouldn’t he be freaking out?
Thane drags me toward the door, but the creature of shadow screams and tentacles explode from it, stretching out and knocking us to the ground. Something flies past me—another one of the bird-creatures. I scramble to my feet and find the three poised before the creature, blades exposed in the pale light filtering through the thin windows above.
They cut and stab at the creature, but their blades only make it angry, and the angrier it gets, the more damage it does, knocking into shelves and the concrete columns. Jars crash to the ground, choking the air with formaldehyde and dust.
“This isn’t working, Shy!” Natalie says and my stomach knots painfully, but I don’t have time to comprehend what’s happening here, because the creature’s tentacles flail, and I have to duck to keep from being flung across the room. Thane’s in front of me again, pulling my arm.
“We have to get out of here!”
“Look out!” I push him forward and fall with him, landing as one of the creature’s tentacles rush over us and crashes into a column. There’s a cracking sound as it comes loose from its place and falls toward us. Thane and I scramble to our feet and away, finding ourselves closer to the fight than we wanted to be.
“Jacobi!” Shy’s voice is harsh as Jacobi propels from his position on t
he floor, scythe in hand, he cuts a blow across the creature’s tooth-filled face. Its scream grows louder and one of its tentacles lifts, smacking into Jacobi and sending him flying against the wall. Shy twists, searching, until his eyes meet mine.
And something in my chest pulls so tight I lose my ability to breathe.
I know him.
And not in the way I’ve gotten to know him the last few weeks. This is different, deeper. It goes beyond his skin and blood and bones.
I know his soul.
The knowledge shivers through me and my mind strains to place him. Where have I seen him before? I chase tendrils of memories, but they slip from my grasp, teasing, playful, brutal—and they smell like smoke and jasmine.
What did that witch do to me?
Shy’s harsh voice brings me back to the present. “Get her out of here! She’s making it stronger!”
“Shy!” Natalie warns, but it’s too late. He goes flying, his body flipping unnaturally as he lands in a pile of his own feathers. I don’t go to him and I don’t run away. I stand, rooted to the spot. Anger, white and hot, washes over me, burning my eyes and skin. I want to smash this thing to pieces for giving me hope, for lifting me from darkness just to crush me.
