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Eyelids grew over glowing sockets, ears spun from webs of skin, saliva fell in hot strings onto Jonathan’s cheek.
Another inch and its teeth grazed his chin. It raised a clawed foot.
The eye on the half skull watched Jonathan with horror.
Maybe it wasn’t as half-formed as Jonathan thought.
He shoved the chair, and the defective threw out a stubby leg, catching itself.
Instead of taking the opening to get away, Jonathan drew on the last of his strength and followed the movement of the chair. He slammed his clawed hand into the protruding skull. The front crumpled, and gray matter sprayed out.
The defective screamed and Jonathan kept shoving until he reached a distinctive dip that had to be the base. One hard pull tore everything loose, and the animal rolled away, twisting back and forth.
After what felt like forever, it stopped moving.
No flesh stitched. No breath rose in its ribs. The green of its eyes had no light.
Yet Jonathan couldn’t look away. Because it might get up again. It might regenerate.
A touch brushed his shoulder, and he whirled.
Frost caught Jonathan’s wrist. “It’s okay. It’s dead.”
Was it?
“C’mon, man, let’s get you out of here and cleaned up, okay?”
He was real. Frost was real, and the defective was dead. The last of Jonathan’s fight left him and he slumped.
Frost put Jonathan’s arm over his shoulder.
“Matt.” It took effort to push the word from his lips.
“Grey’s handling him.”
But how? Would he kill Matt and let all of Jonathan’s effort go to waste?
The thought should have pissed him off, but he was just too tired.
* * *
“… your will may be strong, but if you don’t let us help you, the Anubis will eventually win. It will destroy you, Nash. Then it will destroy Luca.”
Isaiah’s words became an earworm Nox couldn’t ignore.
He told himself Isaiah was wrong, but with every loop of what Isaiah had said, worry cracked his confidence until the chorus to that earworm was one simple question.
What if Isaiah was right?
Luca stared out the passenger window. Whatever he thought about hovered in a haze of emotion just out of Nox’s reach. Not that he tried very hard. Not trying to listen to his thoughts meant Nox’s worry stayed private.
After a few more miles, Nox pulled into the motel parking lot.
He cut the engine.
Luca took off his seatbelt. “We should have never gone there.” Truth and frustration hummed through his words. “I should have listened to you.” He huffed. “I’m sorry. I’m….” He looked at Nox. “Will you at least tell me ‘I told you so?’ Or be pissed?”
“There’s no reason for me to be mad at you.”
