Chapter Thirty-Three Naughty and Not So Knife
The blood turns from droplets into a stream, and though Izzy still doesn’t say anything, I know I have to do something, fast.
I race forward, praying the whole time that the fucking monster will remain preoccupied with Izzy long enough for me to grab—
I duck down as I slide to a stop and grab the knife Izzy dropped. Then I come up swinging, a blade in each hand as I slice through whatever tentacles I can reach. Part of me thinks stabbing might be more effective right now, but I’m terrified of stabbing Izzy, too.
So I swing again, slicing deeper this time. The beast bellows in pained outrage as several tentacles fall to the floor and start flopping around near my feet.
They may be severed, but they’re still razor sharp, and I jump over two of them to avoid getting cut. As I do, I take another swing at the thing, but this time it’s ready for me.
It unfurls its tentacles in a rush, throwing Izzy at me so hard that I stumble backward, and we both hit the ground. Seconds later, it drops down on top of us, and I scream. I can’t help it. Being surrounded—and sucked into—its tentacles just might be the most terrifying thing that’s happened to me, which is saying a lot.
Desperate to get both Izzy and myself out of this mess, I grip the knives as tightly as I can and punch out with my right hand. The monster screams as it recoils, and I manage to wiggle a few inches of my body out from under it.
But then it’s back, its giant mouth gaping wide open and its razor-sharp teeth on full display as it dives for my head.
Oh, hell no. I’m not about to get bitten by one more thing today. And I’m definitely not getting bitten by teeth that look like that.
I kick out, hard, as I grab onto Izzy and try to roll. But she’s too busy shoving her fist—complete with gigantic knife—straight into its mouth.
The blade connects with the squid thing’s soft palate and sinks deep.
It doesn’t kill it—its head is too big for the knife to actually reach its brain—but it does send it spinning away from us, roaring in pain and outrage.
It’s the opening we’ve been looking for, and we bound to our feet, racing for the door. To hell with feeding the thing. At this point, it’s on its own.
Izzy makes it to the door first, and she throws it open. But before I can dive through, a bunch of tentacles grab me from behind and yank me back toward the center of the room.
I fly through the air, feeling a little like Spider-Man to this thing’s Doc Ock. On the plus side, its tentacles aren’t made of titanium, and I’ve still got one of the knives.
I reach down and try to saw my way through a couple of the tentacles holding me, but the beast is done playing. It wrenches me back and forth, up and down, jarring me to the very core of my being while also making sure I never get the chance to actually do any damage.
That doesn’t stop me from trying, though, and I bring the knife down again—this time in a stabbing motion. I know I may hit myself, but right now that seems like the lesser of two evils. Anything does that doesn’t involve being eaten alive by an enraged squid monster.
It jerks me away again before the blade can connect, and this time, I’m so off balance that I actually drop the knife. Damn it.
Desperate now, but determined not to die hours before finally getting off this island, I do the only thing I can think of. I duck my head and bite the tentacles holding on to me as hard as I can.
The horror that follows is indescribable.
The tentacle splits in half, and my mouth is suddenly filled with the creature’s blood and I don’t know what else. I gag on the noxious taste but force myself to keep biting down as it screams and thrashes around me.
I swear, if I ever get out of this nightmare, I’m sterilizing my entire mouth. And every other part of my body as well.
Eventually the tentacle gives way under my teeth, and I spit it out as the fucker continues to knock around the room. I grab onto another tentacle but can’t bring myself to bite this one, too, so I try to pry it away from my body.
The monster is in so much pain that it barely seems to notice what I’m doing. At first, I think it’s because of the bite, but then I glance down and realize Izzy’s sliced off one of its little paw-tipped arms and is currently trying to jam a knife straight through its eye.
The monster ducks and she misses, but she just swings again. And misses again. It reaches down with its non-severed arm and smacks her so hard that she goes flying across the room. She hits the wall hard but bounces right back and starts going for him again.
Before she can reach him, though, Jude races through the open door and straight for the three of us.
“Stay back!” I scream, but he zips straight past Izzy and grabs a handful of tentacles.
It screeches the second Jude touches it. Its tentacles release, and just like that, I’m falling. I brace myself for impact with the stone floor—try to tuck myself up so I hit my shoulder and not my head—but Jude gets there first.
He plucks me out of thin air and grabs onto me, pulling me against his chest as he backs toward the door, his eyes still fastened on the nasty squid thing. But it’s not chasing him—or me. Instead, it’s tucked itself into the far corner of the room, its tentacles wrapped around itself as it lets out a low moan that is eerily similar to the one I heard coming from the spider creatures’ pen.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jude grinds out as he sweeps Izzy along in front of us.
But she’s already fading—moving in the fast way only vampires can—out the door, leaving Jude to follow along behind her.
“You can put me down now,” I tell him as soon as Mozart slams the door closed behind us and closes the padlock.
Jude doesn’t answer, just glares at me as he strides down the hall.
“Where are we going?” I demand, starting to struggle against him. “We still need to take care of the other monsters.”
He still doesn’t answer me. And he doesn’t stop walking.
I start to yell at him to put me down, to demand an answer for what just happened in that pen. That monster that was out for our blood took one look at Jude and ran from him. It literally shrank into a corner, doing its best to become all but invisible. And I need to know why.
Again, I start to order him to put me down right this instant. But I stop myself, because the truth is I’m trembling so badly that I’m afraid my knees won’t support me. So, instead of making him put me down, I press myself against him and hold on for just a little while.
I hold on to the powerful rise and fall of his chest.
I hold on to the strength flowing through his big, muscly body.
And, even though I tell myself not to, I hold on to the warm leather-and-honey scent of him. I even go so far as to turn my head and bury my face, ever so slightly, against his chest.
Later, I’m sure I’ll be mortified by my behavior. But for right now, I’ll take the comfort.
The thought has me burrowing deeper against him, and that’s when it hits me. The shaking I’m feeling isn’t coming from me at all. It’s coming from Jude.
I pull back so I can look at him, really look at him. And it hits me. Jude isn’t angry. He’s terrified. Because of me. For me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words coming out before I have a clue I’m going to say them.
“We had a deal,” he snaps out, and his voice is so low and rumbly that I barely understand it.
“We had a bet,” I correct. “It’s not the same thing. But I know Izzy and I made a huge mistake.”
Jude starts to snap again—I can see it in the way his jaw works. Feel it in the way his chest tenses against me.
But in the end, he just shakes his head as he bursts out the double doors of the administration building and takes the steps down three at a time.
He doesn’t stop until we’re on ground level, several yards away from the building. Then, and only then, does he slide me slowly, carefully, to my feet. He holds on to me for a minute to make sure my legs—and everything else—can support me.
Turns out, they can. Barely. I lock my knees, just in case.
Jude watches the whole thing, gorgeous eyes swirling with a million words and even more emotions as he stares down at me.
“You need to trust me, Kumquat,” he finally says, and his voice is still all growly. “I won’t do anything that deliberately puts you in danger.”
“What about yourself?” I shoot back, because nothing Jude does is without risk.
“I was never in any danger. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
“This time, maybe.” I narrow my eyes at him as the squid monster’s reaction to him plays over and over again in my head. “And why is that, exactly? What is it about you that turned that creature from homicidal to terrified in the blink of an eye?”
Again, he starts to say something. And again, he settles for snapping his mouth shut and shaking his head.
“You want me to trust you,” I whisper. “But you won’t trust me. About anything. How exactly do you think that’s supposed to work?”
He just stares at me, stonily, and suddenly it’s all too much.
Jude’s secrets.
The storm.
The fact that I still have the monster’s blood in my mouth.
Nausea swamps me, and I stumble backward several steps. Jude reaches out like he wants to help me, but I throw a hand out to stop him. Then I stagger over to the nearest trash can and vomit. A lot.
The only problem is that I’ve barely eaten all day, which means that all I’ve got to throw up is a bunch of stomach acid and whatever blood actually managed to make it down my throat.
Just the thought has me dry heaving some more, over and over again, until I’m convinced I’ve thrown up my stomach lining and maybe even my stomach itself.
I can’t even pretend to be sorry, not when the memory of biting that tentacle is forever emblazoned in my brain.
When I finally stand back up, stomach settled but the rest of me absolutely mortified that I just puked in front of a bunch of my classmates and Jude, Eva is standing next to me with a bottle of water while Luis rubs my back. I rinse out my mouth several times, then use the rest of it to wash the blood from my face and hands before finally turning around to look at the others.
All of them, except for Eva, Luis, and Jude, are very conspicuously not looking at me. I’ve never seen so many paranormals so interested in a pile of plywood in my life…
I look around for Izzy and find her leaning against one of the trees, a bottle of water in her hand as well. The only difference between the two of us is she looks hale and healthy and almost completely back to normal because apparently vampires heal a lot faster than manticores, even with their powers locked down. Not that that seems fair right now, considering she’s the one who went into that enclosure to begin with.
Still, I’m glad she’s all right. I’m in more than enough pain for both of us.
“You okay?” Eva asks, her brown eyes wide and worried as she looks me over from head to toe. “This looks a lot worse than your usual chrickler-related injuries.”
It feels a lot worse, too. But there’s nothing I can do about that right now. Time is ticking, and we still have to finish up with the menagerie.
The thought makes me nauseous all over again. The last thing I want to do right now is go back in that building.
Still, it has to be done. Jude may be able to handle the other monsters—and I will get an answer as to how that’s possible—but the chricklers still need to be taken care of. And I, by far, have the most experience with that.
But when I say as much to Eva, all the people who have been pretending not to pay attention to me puking spring into action.
“The only place you’re going is back to the dorms,” Luis tells me, looking completely annoyed. “Responsibility is one thing. Self-sabotage is something else entirely.”
“I’m okay,” I answer.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that, cher,” Remy tells me. And though his voice is relaxed, his eyes are watchful as they slide between Izzy and me. “You look like you’re one stiff breeze away from falling headfirst into that trash can.”
Considering I feel like I’m barely one tiny gust of wind away from having that happen, I’ll count that as a win. I start to say as much, but the looks on everyone’s faces convince me that doing so definitely won’t help my cause.
“I’ve got this,” Jude tells me.
“But the—”
“We’ve got this,” Mozart repeats just as firmly, her ponytail swaying with each word. “Besides, you wouldn’t deprive me of seeing the inside of the chrickler enclosure, would you? It’s been a lifelong dream of mine.”
“Mine, too,” Remy agrees instantly.
I make a face at him. “Tell me what a chrickler is and maybe I’ll believe you.”
He grins. “Isn’t that more reason for me to go find out?”
Even Izzy gets in on the action when she pulls two more knives out of seemingly nowhere, one of which looks like an actual saber.
When I give her a what-the-hell look, she just shrugs. “If the chricklers don’t actively try to kill me, I can always use them to make a nice oneiroi kabob instead.”
Jude rolls his eyes, but everyone else laughs—including me. But doing so makes my head hurt. Not to mention my stomach. And my side. And my…everything.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I really should bow out of this one. That is, if I can walk, which—at this point—I’m honestly not certain that I can.
To test it out, I take a few steps back under everyone’s watchful gaze…which isn’t embarrassing at all. I start to turn around to block them out and end up slamming straight into a ghost.