Chapter 30 Christine #2
But I can’t regrow my head. If Raoul goes that far, the damage will be irreversible.
My cheeks are burning, wet with tears. “Raoul, I need you to try harder. For me. For him.”
“Deeper,” says Philippa, and Raoul shoves against the hilt of the knife.
I choke, feeling the cascade of adrenaline and panic as my body reacts to this cataclysmic threat. When the first heart slows and stutters, my second heartbeat increases to a frenzied pace. My fangs emerge from my gaping jaws, and the crowd utters a collective exclamation of interest and horror.
Raoul jerks the dagger out of my chest. His fingers uncurl from the hilt, and it falls to the floor.
Another shifter walks forward, carrying an ax—yes, a fucking ax—just as ornate as the ceremonial box Gil is holding. She hands it to Raoul, then withdraws.
“Now the head, Raoul,” commands Philippa. “Cut it off.”
I can see his pupils, blown so wide his green eyes are nearly black. They widen a little more when she speaks to him.
I struggle for control, for words. Blood spills over my lower lip as I force my voice to work, just one more time. I won’t waste precious seconds pleading for the mercy he can’t give me. There’s something more important I need to say.
“Don’t hate yourself for this. I love you.”
At my words, Raoul’s pupils contract slightly. He stands motionless, gripping the ax.
“Now, Raoul!” orders Philippa.
Through blood and fangs, I speak a line from the lyrics he wrote—the language of his soul poured into music. “Love is a cruel angel, a thorny rose that blooms and bleeds in this rotten void, that whispers relentless hope into the wicked universe.”
The black dot in the center of Raoul’s iris shrinks, and the band of pale green widens suddenly, gloriously.
He whirls and slings the ax at his sister.
One second, the ax is spinning toward her, and the next she’s a huge white wolf, leaping aside out of harm’s way, shadows curling and melting around her while the ax clangs against the floor.
Raoul reaches for my chained hands, but before he can attempt to free me, my restraints spring open of their own accord.
Magic like that can only mean one thing.
The god of death and his ghosts have arrived.
I shake off my chains and stumble forward, but my primary heart still isn’t working. Raoul catches me in his arms as I collapse.
“Christine.” He’s crying, kissing my face with heartbroken penitence. “Christine, precious, I’m so sorry—”
Philippa’s wolf soars past him, and her jaws latch around my throat.
She bears me down to the floor, teeth gnawing into my flesh like she’s determined to chew off my head.
A howl rips through the stadium, and a furry weight slams into the white wolf.
Raoul’s black wolf is a demented devil, tearing into his sister’s side with all the fury of a rabid beast. With an agonized whine, she releases my neck and turns to attack him.
He meets her onslaught with a storm of snarls and the flash of lightning-white teeth.
The stadium erupts into chaos, shifters shedding their human forms and diving toward us, all of them bent on defending their leader.
But the stands also fill with misty shapes moaning in ghostly voices, rendered visible and audible by the will of their master.
The ghosts can’t stop the shifters, but they’re disorienting and distracting them, preventing them all from descending on Raoul and me at once.
I claw my way across the floor, gaining a little distance from the battling wolves.
Much as I want to leap into the fray and help Raoul, I can’t.
In addition to the heart wound, my neck has been chewed up.
Thankfully, Raoul stopped his sister before she gnawed too deep, but I’m bleeding copiously, and I need to refuel.
My frenzied gaze lands on Gil Leveque, who hasn’t shifted and stands motionless, mouth agape, watching Raoul and Philippa tear into each other.
In wolf form, Philippa can’t give her brother commands. But can she exert her power over him nonverbally? Did he break her control for only a moment, or is he free forever? I need to know…need to help him…need to drink…
Half-conscious, my vision fading, I pull myself toward Gil, already salivating for his blood. Why hasn’t he shifted? Maybe his other shape is something small and defenseless, not ideal for a fight like this one.
I never feel more like an animal than when I’m desperate for blood. The craving steals my reasoning and my higher thought processes, leaving only blind instinct and a visceral, all-consuming need.
Gil must spot my approach out of the corner of his eye because he glances my way, then dives to grab the ax Raoul threw. “Might as well finish you off,” he mutters, hefting it.
I want to close the distance between us and pounce on him, but without my primary heart in play, I don’t have the strength.
Gil lifts the ax over his head, ready for a killing blow.
A whip of shadow snakes through midair and coils around his throat. It yanks him backward, then lashes around his body in endless loops of darkness, tightening relentlessly.
Erik strides into my view, masked, wearing a black coat. Even in this dire moment, his theatricality makes me smile a little.
“You need this one, sweetheart?” he asks me casually.
I nod, and the shadow ropes snap tight around Gil’s body before rolling him in my direction. I crawl forward, push Gil’s head to the side, and sink my fangs gratefully into his throat.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I am going to deal with our enemies,” Erik says.
I murmur my assent through my mouthful of Gil’s neck, and he stalks toward Raoul and Philippa.
As I drink, pleasure rolls through me, a sensation beyond the comfort of blood. Erik is here. He’s with us. I’m not sure he and Raoul and I can fight off the entire Shifter Collective, but at least if we die, we’ll be together.
Gil Leveque whimpers under my teeth. His blood flows over my tongue in small, warm floods, pumped straight from his artery. He tastes a little like Raoul, but instead of the wildness, there’s an earthy flavor to his blood, something grounded and slimy and vulnerable. Like a worm.
God, how miserable would it be to have a worm as your second form?
Out of pity, I give his wound a cursory lick when I’m done.
By now, the other shifters have realized the ghosts aren’t a threat to them, and they’re reaching the floor, bounding toward Raoul and Philippa. Some of them head for Erik, recognizing him as an enemy.
The first one to reach Erik is a huge dog, possibly a wolfhound. At the same time, a giant vulture swoops down toward Erik’s head, talons extended.
I leap to my feet, horror galvanizing my heart and kicking it awake, but I know I can’t make it to Erik in time. Those talons will rip him apart.
A black stag leaps from the stands, giant hooves crashing on the wooden floor as it lands between Erik and the dog. It rears up and, with a jerk of its head, catches the vulture’s wing on the tips of its antlers.
The vulture screams as the stag slings it to the floor and tramples its body beneath merciless hooves. The stag charges the dog next, head down, antlers whipping through the air.
I watch, dumbfounded. Why the hell is one of the shifters protecting Erik?
A pained whine seizes my attention, and I turn toward Raoul and Philippa.
She has him pinned down, and several other shifters are closing in—two foxes, a boar, and a handful of coyotes.
None of the shifters look quite like normal animals—they’re larger, darker in color, gifted with longer claws, bulkier muscles, and wickedly sharp teeth.
They might be able to pass as normal when glimpsed alone or in the shadows, but as a group, they’re unmistakably supernatural, denizens of the uncanny valley, wakening a faint sense of wrongness and horror.
Erik has been warding them off with bursts of energy, whips of shadow, and blasts of mist, but I have no idea how long his magic will last. As the shifters tighten the circle, I spring to Erik’s side and take up a fighting stance.
Claws extended, I snarl through my fangs, daring any of them to approach.
They hesitate, probably a little shocked that I’m up for combat so soon after being stabbed in the heart.
“Help Raoul,” Erik says tightly. “I’ll hold them off.”
I’m all too glad to pounce on Philippa’s back and sink my claws deep into her body. Her howls ring in my ears as I lift her off Raoul and throw her as far as I can—which isn’t far, since I’m not quite at full strength.
Wolf-Raoul struggles to his feet, panting and bleeding.
Erik’s breathing is strained—he’s tiring quickly from using so much of his magic.
And it’s going to be a few minutes before I’m fully healed—minutes we don’t have, judging by the sheer number of beasts prowling around us.
Their growls, shrieks, chitters, and unearthly cries fill my ears, and their claws screech against the gym floor until I think I might go mad.
The stag who protected Erik changes form, turning into a panther, and I realize it’s the man I bit earlier—the one with the hideous blood.
But my surprise is nothing compared to Erik’s reaction. He recoils from the panther, eyes wide. “Lloyd-Henry?”
The panther ignores him and snarls at one of the other shifters.
“Have you been in the city this whole time? With them?” Erik says to the panther, his voice sharp with anger. “Why haven’t you—oh fuck, I forgot he’s in my head. He knows you’re here now. He’s coming.”
“Who’s coming? And who is Lloyd-Henry?” I exclaim.
Erik is staring past me, toward the double doors at the end of the gymnasium. “Lloyd-Henry is the man who resurrected me. As for the one who’s coming…I made an ally of sorts. He was supposed to wait for my signal, but he is too angry now. Stay close. Be ready.”
“You and Raoul need to quit keeping secrets,” I snap, but I turn to face the same direction as Erik. Wolf-Raoul stands beside me. I curl my fingers into the thick fur along his neck, and he moves closer, each of us instinctively seeking support from the other.
Thunder shakes the floor of the gym, drawing the attention of the shifters. The sound intensifies, vibrating the rows of seats, rattling the old scoreboard against the wall, eliciting growls of fear from the beasts.
Lightning flickers around the edges of the double doors, and more thunder rolls through the building. With a concussive blast, the doors burst open, and a tsunami crashes in.
The water leaps in foaming waves across the floor of the gym, almost as if it has a mind of its own.
And perhaps it does, because through the spray and lightning and thunder strides a massive figure, bigger than any man I’ve ever seen.
His huge red beard conceals the lower half of his face, but I don’t need to see his mouth to know that he’s absolutely enraged.
“Erik.” I grab his coat. “You tell me who that is right now, or I swear I’ll drain you within an inch of your life.”
“That’s Manannan, the sea god,” he replies.
Raoul makes a sound between a whine and growl, and I press my hand reassuringly to his neck. “Sea god. Right. Is he angry at you, or them, or…”
“As I said, he is a temporary ally of mine. His rage is primarily directed at him.” He points to the panther, who bristles and delivers a silent snarl.
I have more questions, but it’s impossible to speak over the onrushing waves and the crack of more thunder.
Water flows across the gym floor, soaking my shoes, but the huge waves seem to avoid us, chasing down the shifters instead.
One giant wave swallows two dogs and traps them, keeping them submerged until their frantic struggles cease.
It’s hard to watch, even though I know what the animals really are and the fate they intended for me and Raoul.
I look down at the water sliding past my feet…
and then I notice swirls of blood leaking from the body of Gil Leveque not far away.
His skull is partly caved in. One of the shifters with hooves must have trampled him while trying to outrun a wave.
It’s all coming true—the violence I feared would result from any relationship I might have with Erik and Raoul. But it wasn’t our fault. We didn’t instigate this. All we wanted—all Raoul wanted—was to live peacefully and happily together.
And his fucking sister screwed it up.
I glance at the spot where I threw her. She’s gone.
Frantically, I scan the bleachers, which are full of shifters trying to escape the flood. Some of them have switched back to human form and are clambering over the rows of seats naked, screaming, out of their minds with panic. Pity surges in me in spite of myself.
Maybe I’m not heartless yet.
I touch Erik’s arm. “It’s too much. They’re on the run already, no need to massacre them all. Can you tell him to stop drowning them?”
“I can try.” He sounds doubtful.
“Good.” Then I spot what I’ve been looking for—a white wolf slinking up the steps. She’s nearing the top of the stadium seats, where there’s an emergency exit door. “I’m going after Philippa.”
I run toward the steps too quickly, and my foot slips on the wet floor. Vampiric balance kicks in, and I right myself quickly, but not before I feel Raoul’s wolf at my side, ready to provide support if I need it. When I start up the steps, he follows me.
I look back at him, wincing. “You shouldn’t come. She might still have power over you.”
He whines.
“You know what I have to do, Raoul. You shouldn’t be there to see it.”
With a frustrated growl, he bounds up the bleachers ahead of me.
I guess I won’t be chasing his sister alone after all.
After reaching the top of the bleachers, Raoul and I rush through the exit door into the hallway. I look in both directions, but I don’t see the white wolf. My nose isn’t as finely tuned as Raoul’s, and all I can smell is wet fur and mildew.
I glance over at him. His green eyes meet mine, and I know he understands the request I won’t voice.
I need my sweet wolf boyfriend to track his sister down so I can kill her.