Chapter 10 Good Prey
Good Prey
Of course it couldn’t be simple, or easy.
She was doing great, she was staying down just like he told her instead of rabbit-running, but now it was apparent Father’s whittling down of the shadowbeasts drawn to the small flame of a potential-triggered Dreamer hadn’t been quite as successful as any of them hoped.
The big beast was bad enough, but it was the mass of slithering to the left which concerned Erik most.
He unfolded over her in a leap, gaining what speed he could, and hit the nest of writhing, rearing tentacles with a crunch that would have snapped every bone in a normal man’s body. Seeing the cthulhuth’s heart was easy—all the rubbery lines led back to a common point.
Stabbing said nexus, however, was another story. It was a mercy the thing quickly lost interest in a Dreamer when a bigger threat appeared, and that it was already wounded.
It was a further mercy that a powerful, invisible pulse from their potential dizzied it, and Erik was able to slide both knives in to their hilts, one foot flicking up to knock a tentacle aside that might otherwise curl too close to her further down the line.
Tearing the creature’s heartknot free with a half-grunting sound of effort, he landed, deceleration slamming through every bone, and whirled to check.
Nothing. Just trees, thorny vines laced with invisible protections and all-too-visible, smoking ichor drenching the broad grey back of the driveway.
And her, half-sprawled on cold concrete, her hair a wild mass and her eyes big as a frightened child’s.
Deadly pale, fever spots high on her cheeks, their new lirai vibrated with terror, a heady exhalation of musk and copper scraping pleasantly across his nerves.
The mark in his wrist burned, gulping at fresh fuel, sensing the fragility of good prey.
Just like the things that still lurked in the dark, ready and waiting. He was one of them, even if the Flame had freed him of the Mad God’s service, and it wouldn’t do to forget the fact.
So he just stood, boots solidly placed, ready for the next attack. The remainder of the beasts would be cautious now, circling.
And the girl, her potential awake and much more active even if she hadn’t yet been been scoured clean by the Flame, would feel them.
A normal person’s habit of rationalization was strong enough to overcome even direct proof, and even though potentials could sense far more than the average headblind nine-to-fiver, they still had the very human habit of ignoring what they didn’t want to see.
Something unignorable was called for, just to drive home the fact that outside was dangerous and the Sons meant protection.
She made a tiny, sobbing noise. Ichor dripped from Erik’s blades. He hadn’t needed anything other than the knives, thank the Dreamers, and the more evidence he left right in front of her face, clearly visible in the corpselight he held steady, the better.
“You…” She sounded like she’d been punched. The flash of red rage pushing through him at the thought of anyone striking this particular lirai tightened his skin, lifted his lip with a snarl. “Oh my God.” She probably thought she was screaming, but it was merely a shocked whisper.
He turned his head slightly, not enough to catch her in peripheral vision though he longed to, but enough to let her know he was waiting for orders. Soon she’d understand that posture and wouldn’t leave one of her guards without guidance for long.
Of course, by then Erik would be back on duty in some other satellite, maybe even part of a different trio, depending on how badly he fucked this up. She’d probably want to keep Jake but get rid of him and Ignatius, and he didn’t blame her one bit.
It took a short while for her to realize she was still alive. She recovered more quickly than most, slight noises telling him she was pushing herself upright. Probably trembling, too, if the fearful little sips and gasps for breath were any indication.
“Is… is it gone?” she whispered finally, and he allowed himself a moment of believing she might almost understand.
“These are.” The growl was in his throat, and he still sounded close to murder. At least he was completely as advertised, and she’d figure that out sooner or later. “The others aren’t.”
“You mean there’s more?” Amazingly, the last word broke on a pale, shaky little laugh. It was the kind of sound a woman made before she passed out or underwent a complete psychotic break, and he wondered which way she’d jump.
She wasn’t retreating for the iron gate and the safety of the temple, though. A girl with mettle.
“Plenty more.” He really shouldn’t be talking to her, should just let events speak as they would. You’re safe, he longed to say. I’m here.
But that wouldn’t get him anything but kicked in the teeth, so he shut up.
“Planned this.” Very softly. “You guys got together and… An object lesson. Right?”
She was too smart by half. Erik kept his mouth shut and stayed where he was, though the underbrush was alive with thin sliding sounds. Crackling. Tiny creaks.
Amazingly, he also heard a soft, padding footstep. Then another, and the warmth of a Dreamer approaching fell on his back. Sunshine, on a cloudy day.
Wasn’t that a song? And why was he thinking of that when there were shadowbeasts drawing closer? What was she doing, hiding behind him?
Good instincts, though she didn’t know it. Maybe she was planning on stabbing him with a fork.
She stepped even closer. “All right.” The words broke midway on a not-quite-sob. “What do we do now?”
We, little girl? But that was a good sign. “Don’t suppose you’d like to go back inside.”
“I’m thinking about it.” A long shuddering exhale, soft and ragged. “I, uh… what are you going to do?”
Smart and brave, wasn’t she just the whole package.
“Wait for you to make up your mind.” He wanted to add I’ve got all night, but they really didn’t.
The longer she was out here, the higher the risk, even with Jake lurking atop the wall ready to reinforce and Father in the dark wilderness attempting to deter or outright slay most approaching predators.
“I’m really not feeling all that capable of handling this situation correctly,” Liv informed him, primly. It would have sounded better if she wasn’t shaking so hard her teeth chattered. It took her two tries to get the entire sentence out.
His mouth opened, despite his brain issuing strict prohibitions against the very act. “I’m surprised you haven’t passed out.”
“Me too.” A tiny, pale whisper, barely audible even to his enhance senses. “These things. What are they?”
That’s the right question. Good girl. “Shadowbeasts. Bits of the underside.” His throat was extremely dry. “You’ve seen them before.”
“Not while awake.” The admission, probably wrenched out of her by shock alone, was also surprising, even if he’d suspected. “I’ve seen this, uh, before. But in my dream, you died.”
Ah. “Dreamers often have—” he said, but she made another soft, distressed noise and crumpled.
He almost dropped his knives, whirling to catch her before she hit the ground.
In fact, he was a lot slower than he liked, and she almost struck concrete.
He had her in his arms and was over the wall again in a hot second, the border protections a warm weight briefly stroking his entire body, given fresh strength by a potential’s nearness.
Erik didn’t like how everything had gone silent—underbrush, animals, and even the wind. “Jake?”
“Right here, oh master of discretion.” A theatrically sepulchral laugh drifted from the top of the wall even though little brother was all but invisible, his bright hair blurred with hunting camouflage. “She screamed.”
“Not after the thing was dead.”
Jake hated losing a bet even more than he hated spidery, greasy ukkar-trawlers. “She still screamed.”
“You still owe me five bucks.” Erik cradled the lirai, the mark on his wrist sated with bloodlust but still avid and tender-throbbing at her nearness. “Oh, and…”
“And what?”
“She has possible-dreams.” Erik tried not to sound too satisfied.
The amount of potential this woman exuded even before being dipped in the Flame was unsettling; it was maybe how she’d stayed alive, basic precognition moving her one step in front of the underside’s predators before allowing her to cross paths with Sons. But still… “You owe me ten.”
Jake swore, good-naturedly, and fell into rearguard position as his Elder Brother carried their lirai toward the temple.
Erik told the persistent unease sharpening under his breastbone to settle down. There was no reason to be this jumpy, not when they’d won a round.
Or at least, they’d kept her from being eaten. When she woke up, there would still be hell to pay.