Chapter 38 #3
"Because she has this damn resistance to my persuasion, damn it!
" He explodes in frustration, his eyes flashing with rage.
"I just wanted her to agree to stay with me!
When nothing else worked, I took drastic measures.
I was supposed to wait for her to come home from work, and I would find her trapped in her cat body, take her to my house and take care of her until she fell in love with me .
But no, she had to go out on the street that damn night, and she found one of my experiments!
The monsters were your experiments?
He starts walking again, now faster, his fury overflowing with every step, every word.
I take advantage of his distraction to retreat, slow and silent steps towards the hut.
"I started creating the monsters to strengthen my mind control, to have my own minions.
They were my guinea pigs," Luther mutters, more to himself than to us, as if justifying his actions.
"The plan was to release them in the city, use the chaos to my advantage, and be the only one capable of stopping them with ease.
The unlikely hero..." He lets out a dry, humourless laugh.
His eyes dart to Sandra, and I stop moving.
"At first, I didn't have complete control over them yet. The wendigo attack..." He pauses, his fingers clenching at his side. "It wasn't part of the plan, but you just ran straight into its clutches!"
"Oh, stars in the sky," Sandra whimpers against my neck, her tears wetting my fur.
"So Mark found her before I did, and now you're spreading your legs for that bastard. An idiot who can't see a powerful supernatural being even when he's a foot away." Luther spits on the floor, contempt written all over his face. "Now you see me, don't you, Mark? I bet you regret not hiring me."
My jaw clenches, my instincts screaming to destroy him, but Sandra is vulnerable in my lap.
She cringes at his words, but forces herself to face him.
"Luther..." Her voice breaks. "Why are you doing this? I thought you were my friend, please..."
He laughs, and the sound gets on my nerves, my claws itching to tear him apart.
"Because you should be mine, Sandra. But you chose that beast." He raises his hand, and his magic manifests with a crack in the air. "And now I'm going to undo that mistake."
I rush to raise a barrier around us, gathering what little magic I have left. The effort is brutal, my essence twists inside me, exhausted. The barrier appears, translucent and pulsating, but weak.
Too weak.
I shudder and a grunt escapes my throat as I push every last bit of power I have left to keep it standing.
Luther does not hesitate.
"Subvertere." The command echoes in the air as he launches a beam of energy at us. My shield vibrates, cracks and shatters into invisible shards.
"Ventus impelle eam!" His voice resounds like thunder, and his hand slides through the air, as if pulling Sandra away from me with invisible threads.
The wind howls in response, and its brutal force hits me in the arms. I try to hold Sandra, to protect her, but the force dragging her away is overwhelming.
"NO!" My roar reverberates through the forest as I watch Sandra being thrown away from me, as if an invisible hand had grabbed her and hurled her through the air.
Her wide eyes meet mine, a scream dying on her lips as she crashes to the ground at Luther's feet.
Her head hits the ground with a thud.
The silence that follows is worse than any sound.
A beastly roar, full of hatred, bursts from my chest as my body curls into a fighting stance. My heart races, a wild frenzy takes hold of me. My instincts scream to advance, to destroy.
I turn to Luther, canines and claws bared.
"You just signed your death warrant."
I don't think, I just move. The beast takes the reins, and my focus narrows to a single goal: to kill him.
Luther, however, keeps his distance and casts a spell to move about five metres away in the air.
He's not stupid enough to face me directly.
He begins to murmur and his hands glow with silver runes, his spells swirling in the air before being cast in my direction.
I dodge one, but he casts another burst of fire that hits my left arm.
The smell of burnt flesh spreads along with my pain, but I don't care.
He hurt my female.
My fae essence is depleted, so only my brute strength remains.
I need to force him to come closer.
"What's the matter, Luther?" I say through gritted teeth, advancing slowly, letting him see the real threat in me. "Are you afraid? You know that if I get close, you won't get out alive."
His eyes narrow, and I see the dilemma flash across his expression. He doesn't want to take the risk. But he also doesn't want to come across as weak.
"You're finished, Mark. No essence, no chance to defend yourself." He spits the words like poison.
"Then come closer and prove it." My lips curve into a wild smile.
He hesitates. For a moment. A single moment of doubt.
And that's all I need.
I shoot forward like lightning, my speed an explosion of pure instinct and rage. Luther raises his hands, trying to conjure another spell, but I manage to be faster. My claws close around his arms, crushing the bones with a satisfying snap. He screams, the magic dissipating into the air.
The beast inside me vibrates with pleasure. But it's not enough. Not yet.
I lift him up and throw him against a tree, the impact shaking the branches. He groans, sliding to the ground, stunned.
"Now you're going to die." My tone is low, threatening, my whole body vibrating to finish him off.
Luther stares up at me from the ground, panting, hatred burning in his silver eyes. But this time, there is no arrogance in them.
There is fear.
He mutters something and tries to force his broken arms towards me, fire sparking from his palms as I lunge at him, my claws tearing into his shoulders, my fangs sinking brutally into his head as I force my jaws shut.
His scream bursts into the air along with the sound of his skull cracking.
Blood spills onto my tongue, his brains fill my mouth, but I don't let go, not until I feel his head completely destroyed. His body falls sideways, limp, dead, onto the dirt floor.
I spit his remains in my mouth onto his corpse.
It's over.
I turn immediately, with a cry of pain and fury, in search of my partner.
I stagger towards her, my vision closing in shadows. The burn on my arm throbs like live embers, consuming me from within. My essence is draining away with every second, and my form transitions back without my wanting it to. The impact of my knee against the ground shakes me, but I ignore the pain.
"Please, my love..." My voice comes out hoarse, faltering. With my good arm, I touch her cold face. Her skin is too pale, contrasting with the dark, h y red of the blood spreading beneath her head, soaking her hair and staining the floor. "Come back... open those beautiful green eyes for me..."
But they don't open.
A cold shiver runs through me. My body gives way, I lean over her, the weight of exhaustion crushing my bones. I can do nothing but whisper her name, murmur it against her forehead, begging her to come back to me.
A distant echo calls me. My name.
I should react, but all I feel is guilt.
Guilt for not protecting Sandra. For not realising sooner.
The witch... everything about her was strange, too obvious, a deliberate decoy, and I fell for it like a damn fool.
The real danger was still out there, laughing in my face while my partner died in my arms.
Strong hands grip my shoulders.
I blink slowly, recognising the figures materialising before me. Viklaus. Ted. Balthazar.
My mouth opens to speak, but no sound comes out.
"She's on the verge of death..." Someone says, their voice a sharp whisper that cuts through my soul. "In her condition, she must have already consumed her last extra life... Time is running out."
The air escapes my lungs in a silent sob. My mind spins, my heart bleeds along with Sandra's. I feel her slipping away. Losing her to me.
Cold tears stream down my face without me even having the strength to cry.
Balthazar kneels beside Sandra, pouring a healing potion onto her pale lips. My eyes burn as I watch her throat move weakly, trying to swallow the tiny drop of hope.
Someone pushes a potion against my mouth too.
The smell is strong, tempting.
My throat tightens, my body begs for relief, but I spit out the drink, refusing it. If I take it now... if I give in... I'll become addicted. And I can't afford that luxury.
"You need to..." Ted insists.
Viklaus raises a hand, stopping him from trying again. He just holds me steady when my body threatens to collapse and, with his vampiric hearing, listens to the faint whisper that escapes my broken lips:
"Take us to the old witch..."