Chapter Twelve #2
I think I scream his name as he lifts his hands, and the Stalker in front of me blocks my view of him.
It reels back, preparing to strike, but I don’t wait.
I charge the creature, throwing the full force of my weight into my strike, crossing my daggers as I plunge them into the Stalker’s chest and carve an X with my blades.
Purple blood splashes my face as the Stalker wails. I move back just as it collapses, its tentacles sprawling, and catch a glimpse of Will.
He had insisted he not be allowed to carry any weapons, and as I watch him rip the tentacles from one Stalker’s body before throwing out his hand to bury the other beneath a pile of rocks, I see why.
Will is the weapon.
The remaining Stalker launches high overhead, circling.
I step, as if to move toward Will, when a tentacle wraps around my leg, yanking me backward.
My face smacks the rock, my vision blurring, but I cling to consciousness with all my might, twisting my body and slashing at the tentacle with enough force that the Stalker lets go.
Three more tentacles take its place, coiling around my ankle, my thigh, my wrist. I lose my grip on my dagger as I’m dragged toward the Stalker, toward the void of white light that seems to emanate from within.
I swipe with my remaining dagger, but it’s no use.
The Stalker withdraws only long enough to dodge my strike before coiling once more.
The tentacles squeeze, sending tremors through my body, and I feel it—feel the icy sting crawling through my veins as the Stalker absorbs my every hope; feel the joy leeched from my blood as if it were a living, pulsing energy to be tapped.
Despair overwhelms me, my grip on my blade looser than it was a moment ago, my assault sluggish.
I crane my head to look behind me and watch from upside down as the Stalker dips low, lashing out at Will before rising overhead once more.
“Hold on!” Will roars, his jaw clenched as he hurls rocks at the creature. “Just hold on!”
Had I called for him?
The Stalker swoops, teeth bared. A rock smashes into its head, but not before it wraps its tentacles around Will’s torso.
It screams, a sharp peal of laughter, before sinking its teeth into Will’s chest. Another barrage of rocks forces it to release him, but it latches on again a moment later, and when its jaws clamp down on Will’s leg, it rips, and blood gushes from the deep gash in his thigh.
Get up, comes a familiar voice. Fight back.
The Stalker that has me in its hold giggles like a child with a new toy as lethargy floods my body from all three points of contact.
“We’re going to have so much fun together,” the Stalker chortles as it draws me closer, its jaws gaping, wide enough to swallow me whole.
Fight back. I clench my fist around my dagger.
Fight back. I relax my body, going limp in the Stalker’s grasp as it lifts me off the ground, putrid drool dripping from its teeth.…
Fight back! A scream tears itself free from my chest as I drive my blade up, into the Stalker’s mouth and through the top of its skull.
Darkness fills the white void of light as the Underling’s tentacles fall limp, its massive body hitting the ground with a thud, burying my right leg before I can scramble out of the way.
I wriggle onto my belly, my nails scraping the black stone as I attempt to crawl free, toward Will, who continues to hurl rocks at the remaining Stalker. Blood pools beneath him, whispering…
The Stalker dodges, giggling, and dives for Will again.
“I’m the one you want!” I scream, yanking my leg free and scrambling to my feet.
The Stalker halts midair, its head swiveling in my direction, wings spread wide.
“You came here for me,” I say, my voice raw, as I bend to retrieve the other dagger from where it had fallen. “Not him.”
Will looks back at me with desperation, but it’s as if he can’t muster the strength to speak. Still, I feel him pleading with me, imploring me to look at him.
And even though I know I shouldn’t, I glance his way.
The Stalker shrieks another laugh and pitches forward, barreling down, toward Will, its tentacles outstretched. But I’m already running. Racing.
One of us will reach Will first.
The Stalker opens its jaws.
I’m not fast enough to shield Will. So I leap, throwing myself at the creature, driving my daggers down with the momentum of my fall.
We hit the ground together, and I pull my daggers free seconds before the Stalker rolls onto its back.
Its tentacles spasm as it attempts to wrap around my arms, my legs, my torso, but I bring my blades down with another furious scream, driving my daggers into its stomach.
Purple liquid splashes my face, my arms, but I withdraw my blades—strike again. And again.
The Stalker twitches.
Again.
The void of white light goes dark.
Again.
“Aster!” Will’s voice is a low croak. It sounds far away.
Again. Again. Again.
“Aster, stop!”
My shoulders ache, my hands vibrate.
I turn to look for Will. Will. Where is he—where is—
“I’m—right here,” comes Will’s deep voice again, closer now.
He comes into focus a few feet away, pressing his hands to his thigh. The gash in his chest pours blood, the wound gaping.
I pant for breath as I scramble away from the Stalker’s corpse, crawling toward Will.
“Why aren’t you healing yourself?” My voice sounds too loud, the pressure in my head agonizing.
“I’m—trying—” he says through clenched teeth. He looks up at the sky, his eyes wild. “There—could be more. We need—to move.”
I don’t hesitate, grabbing him underneath his arms and hauling him toward the outcropping of rock. He groans, and I think I hear him sob, but I don’t stop until we’re shielded from sight, hidden behind a boulder. I prop him against a rock, and his head lolls, his eyes fluttering shut.
“I can fix this,” I say, kneeling beside him. I close my eyes, listening to the whispers that seem to come from his blood, trying to distinguish their voices, their melodies, to coax the fluid back into his veins, to give him time to heal.… But Will’s blood doesn’t sing. It doesn’t hum.
It chants.
The sound is ancient, and dark, and… cursed.
He seizes my wrist. “It’s all right,” he rasps. “I’m going to be all right.”
“No, you’re—you’re bleeding—”
Will’s other hand cups my jaw, smearing his blood across my face as his thumb brushes my skin. He gazes at me with heavy-lidded eyes, the ghost of a grin touching his crimson lips. “I love you.”
My head throbs, my heart pounding. “Please, just let me—”
“You have to go.” He coughs, and blood spatters his chin. “Before I turn. You have to go.”
No. No. This can’t be happening. “Will—”
His eyes seem to glaze with confusion, and suddenly he looks so scared—so young. “Stay with me?” he whimpers. “Until the end?”
Tears burn my cheeks. “This isn’t the end. Promise—promise me it’s not.”
The confusion in his gaze turns to understanding in an instant.
“Of course,” he says softly, weakly. “I promise.” His hand drops from my face, and he places it over his chest, blood spilling through his fingers.
“When we—have the cure,” he murmurs, a smile lighting his face, boyish and romantic and full of hope, “we’re going to—leave all of this behind.
We’ll live on a ship. I’d—I’d like to see you on a ship.
You—seem happy there.” Blood stains his teeth as his smile widens, revealing dimples.
“We’ll be—free, Aster. There’s—there’s a whole world out there for us to explore, beyond—the Known World. It’ll be an adventure, won’t it?”
His voice breaks. My heart shatters.
A future together. Free.
“Yes,” I tell him, and I hope he knows I mean it. Yes, not just to an adventure but to a life with him.
A trill of laughter splits the air.
I peek out from behind the boulder as four Stalkers perch atop the rocks just beyond our hiding place.
Will grabs my wrist, pulling me toward him.
“Run,” he tells me, blood dripping from his chin. “You have to run.”
I shake my head, taking hold of my daggers once more. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Aster, please—”
Pebbles skitter as the first Stalker slithers down from its perch, its laughter bouncing off the rocks in a sickening echo. I pull free from Will’s grasp with ease and stand, stepping out from behind the boulder despite Will’s protest.
I plant my feet, twirl my daggers, and stand between Will and the Underlings. But just as the first Stalker lurches for me, a gust of wind slams into it from the side, knocking it into the outcropping of rocks with such force, purple blood and guts splatter the stone.
He appears as if materializing out of thin air, his amethyst suit freshly pressed.
Owen grins, tugging on a pair of black leather gloves. “Took you long enough, little mouse.”