Chapter 34 Got You Now
Got You Now
Astrid Mathieson
The German forest is unnaturally quiet. No birds call.
No insects buzz. Just the soft crunch of our boots on fallen leaves and the occasional whisper of wind through ancient pines.
We've been tracking the Chimeras for hours, following nothing but old signs and disturbed earth from the GUIDE outpost where they killed everyone.
Then we spot them. Fresh tracks. Deep gouges in the soft soil, still crumbling at the edges. Broken branches with sap that hasn't yet dried.
"They passed through here really recently," I whisper, crouching to examine a tuft of coarse fur caught on a thorny bush.
"Three hundred meters ahead," Ghost murmurs into our comms. He’s hidden high on the ridge to our left. "Movement at the tree line."
My pulse quickens. After hours of hunting, we've finally found them.
I adjust my grip on my rifle, scanning the dense foliage.
The weight of the weapon is familiar, comforting even, though I know it will do little more than annoy our prey.
My real weapons—the swords on my back—can only be used in very close combat.
If I’m going to stop these creatures, it will take a blade through the heart to do it.
"Copy that," Sherlock responds, his voice low and controlled. He moves like a shadow beside me, all precision and deadly focus.
Sherlock and I advance in silence for several minutes.
A branch snaps to our left. I freeze mid-step, every muscle tensing. My finger hovers over the trigger as I slowly pivot toward the sound, raising my rifle to eye level.
The forest holds its breath with me. Nothing moves in the gloom.
My eyes strain against the darkness, picking apart each shadow, each outline of twisted branches. My heartbeat drums in my ears, loud enough that I worry whatever's out there might hear it too.
"There," Sherlock breathes, so quiet I barely hear him.
Through the trees, something massive shifts. A patch of shadow detaches from the darkness, moving with unnatural fluidity.
My breath catches in my throat. A chill races down my spine. This thing—these monsters—have hunted down and slaughtered GUIDE agents. Wiped out multiple teams. And now have massacred an entire outpost. And now we're face to face with one.
We advance carefully, using trees for cover.
The creature hasn't noticed us yet, busy with something on the ground.
As we draw closer, I see it's feeding—tearing into the carcass of what was once a deer.
The weight of my katanas on my back feels suddenly perfect, purposeful. I have my chance. Finally.
The Chimera lifts its head suddenly, and I get my first clear view.
Its lion-like body ripples with muscle beneath patchy fur.
This nightmare version of a lion with curved ram's horns spiraling from its forehead swings toward us.
The snake tail coils and uncoils, its forked tongue tasting the air like a spear ready to strike.
"Ready?" Sherlock whispers.
I nod.
Sherlock fires first, the crack of his rifle shattering the silence. The bullet strikes the Chimera's shoulder, and it roars. The sound vibrates through my bones and sets my teeth on edge. We've merely angered it. Which was the plan. Draw it out, away from the thick of the trees.
But where is the other one?
I fire next, aiming for the eyes. The bullet grazes its face, and the creature charges, moving faster than something so large has any right to. We scatter, diving in opposite directions as it crashes through the space where we stood moments before.
"Ghost!" Sherlock shouts. "We've engaged! Southeast quadrant!"
The Chimera whirls, focusing on Sherlock. I scramble to my feet, firing again to draw its attention. "Over here, you ugly bastard!"
The monster turns toward me, snake tail whipping forward with frightening speed. I dodge, feeling the air displacement as it misses me by inches. The tongue of the snake tail slams into a tree trunk, embedding deeply in the wood. For a moment, the creature is stuck, thrashing to free itself.
"The throat!" I shout to Sherlock. "Go for the lion’s throat!"
He aims and fires three rapid shots. The bullets sink into the flesh instead of bouncing off. The Chimera screams and rips its tail free in a shower of splinters.
A surge of vicious satisfaction runs through me. The throat was the right call. One vulnerable spot is all we need. My mind races, cataloging every movement, every reaction. If we can keep hitting it there, we might actually kill this thing.
Ghost appears from the trees, rifle raised, and empties his magazine into the creature's flank. It barely notices, but it turns its focus to Ghost and roars.
But behind Sherlock, the second Chimera rises from the brush.
Fuck. We missed it.
It’s muscles bunch, preparing to pounce.
"Sherlock!" I scream, already running.
I slam into Sherlock, shoving him aside with more strength than a human woman my size should possess. I start to turn, drawing my blades to face the attack I know is coming, but I'm not quite fast enough.
Pain explodes through my chest as the stinger-tongue punches through my tactical vest like it's made of paper.
It burns. A cold, spreading fire that steals my breath and locks my muscles.
I look down in detached fascination at the barbed appendage protruding from just below my collarbone, dripping a clear, viscous fluid mixed with my blood.
Not good.
Sherlock is shouting. Ghost is running toward us.
The Chimera pulls back, yanking its tongue free.
The pain is immediate, overwhelming. My legs give out, and I'm falling. Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground. Sherlock's face swims into view, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief.
"Astrid? Astrid, stay with me!" His voice sounds far away, muffled.
I try to speak, to warn him that the Chimera is still there, still dangerous, but blood fills my mouth. I can feel my body already fighting the venom, my accelerated healing trying to combat the toxin, but it's so strong. Stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced.
The ground trembles. A howl splits the air. Not the Chimera's roar.
Fen. How is Fen here?
A wolf the size of a small truck crashes through the underbrush.
Fen's wolf form is terrifying, magnificent—all rippling muscle and gleaming fangs, his silver-black fur catches the moonlight as he moves.
He slams into the Chimera that struck me with the force of a freight train, rolling with the creature in a tangle of limbs and teeth and claws.
They separate, circling each other. But then the second Chimera lunges at its companion, bites down on the back of its neck and shakes it violently.
Through the haze of pain, I stare in confusion. The second Chimera glances in my direction, its red eyes lingering on my wounded chest. What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Fen advances on them both, hackles raised, a continuous growl rumbling from his massive chest. The second Chimera drags the first away, both creatures crashing through the forest. After a moment's hesitation, Fen follows, disappearing into the darkness.
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Astrid?" Ghost rushes to my side, his rifle trained on the spot where they vanished.
"Biggest fucking wolf I’ve ever seen," Sherlock says. “But I’m glad it chased those fuckers off for now. She’s hurt bad.”
"Fuck. Sherlock, she’s—" Ghost kneels beside us, grabbing my wrist and checking my pulse. “She’s not gonna make it.”
"She needs an air lift. Now." Sherlock’s voice sounds far away, underwater.
The poison burns through my veins like liquid fire. My vision blurs, edges darkening. No, not now. Can't pass out. Need to stay awake. Need to explain about Fen.
Sherlock's arms wrap around me, dragging me backward until my spine presses against rough tree bark. He props me there, his face swimming in and out of focus above me.
"Hold on, Astrid." His voice echoes strangely in my ears.
A low growl vibrates through the clearing. Sherlock whirls, snatching up his rifle. Through half-lidded eyes, I see Fen returning, still in wolf form. He stalks toward us, massive paws silent on the forest floor, yellow eyes fixed directly on me.
"Don't," I manage to gasp, blood bubbling between my lips. "Don't... shoot him."
"What?" Sherlock looks down at me, confusion written across his face.
"Don't... shoot." Each word is agony.
"Astrid, that thing is—"
"Friend," I choke out.
Fen stops a few yards away, still growling low in his throat. His gaze shifts from me to the guns pointed at him, then back to me.
"Have you lost your mind?" Ghost hisses. "I know it chased the Chimeras, but it’s not a friend!"
"She's delirious from blood loss," Sherlock says. "We need to—"
He stops mid-sentence, his gaze dropping to my chest.
I follow his eyes and see what he's seeing. The wound where the stinger pierced me is visibly closing, the torn edges of flesh knitting together before my eyes. The blood flow has already slowed to a trickle. Of course it is. Fuck.
But the immense pain remains. In fact it’s getting worse. The wound might be closing, but the venom is burning me from the inside.
Sherlock takes a step back. Then another. And another. His rifle, which had been pointed at Fen, swings toward me instead.
"What are you?" His eyes are wide.
The words hit harder than the damn chimera stinger. My worst nightmare unfolds in real time as Sherlock stares at me like I'm a stranger. Like I'm a monster. The poison burns through me, but it's nothing compared to the cold dread spreading from my core.
Years of careful lies, of hiding my abilities, of pretending to be normal. It’s all crumbling away in seconds. My vision swims, but I can still see the fear in his eyes, the way his finger hovers near the trigger.
Ghost looks between us, bewildered. "Sherlock, what are you doing?"
"Look at her wound," Sherlock says, not taking his eyes off me. "Look at it."
Ghost glances down, and I see the moment realization hits him. "That's... that's not possible."
"I knew something wasn't right," Sherlock says, gun steady in his hands. "All this time. You really have been lying to everyone. What are you?"
Fuuuuuuck.