Chapter Seventy-Six Spoiling For A Fright
As the windows crack one after the other, the storm rushes inside and the banshee finally stops wailing. But her screams—or the sudden lack thereof—are the least of our problems as the wind and rain tear through the room.
Ms. Aguilar calls for everyone to take cover and then dives behind the closest piece of furniture she can find—a TV cart with an empty center console that gives us a perfect view of her cowering behind it.
At the same time, Danson starts shouting for all the witches to assemble in the center of the room—I’m guessing because he wants them to do some kind of spell to fix the windows. But only three witches show up. Which means either the ocean got them or their nightmares did.
For a second, Eva’s face flashes in front of me, but I blink it away—blink her away. There will be time later for me to mourn. Right now, I just have to get through this.
Fights break out even as glass flies across the common room, shards turned into projectiles by the vicious, violent wind.
Fae against dragons.
Dragons against vampires.
Vampires against sirens.
Sirens against leopards.
The list goes on and on.
“What do we do?” Luis shouts, and I realize with a shock that he’s right behind Jude and me.
Everyone is, except Izzy, who’s sitting on the couch with her AirPods in. At first I think she’s just taking herself out of the equation, but then I notice the rolled-up tapestry at her feet and realize she’s standing guard.
I glance behind me at the others—at Mozart, whose eyes have already gone dragon. At Simon, who is glowing all over. At Luis, who is watching everything with a familiar canine tilt of his head. At Remy and Ember and Jude, all of whom look braced and ready for whatever fight comes their way—and I realize, for the first time in my life, I’m actually part of a pack.
It’s a slightly strange, mismatched pack, but it’s still a pack. And they’re all mine.
Despite the nightmare we’ve all found ourselves in, a profound gratitude fills me. As does an overwhelming need to keep these people safe against all odds.
“What do you want to do?” Remy shouts to be heard over the brutal cacophony that surrounds us.
“Stop them from killing each other and, more importantly, Danson and Aguilar?” I answer, though it’s more of a question.
Ember snorts. “Good luck with that.”
But even as she says it, she slides her foot out and trips a senior fae who is currently chasing after a junior mermaid with what is clearly nefarious intent.
He goes flying, careening headfirst into one of the tables. He comes up fighting mad, eyes doing that weird sparkly thing they do when fae are up to no good. But he barely takes a step before Luis plows a fist into his face and takes care of it.
I hear the crunch of bone against bone, and then the fae pitches forward in a dead faint.
He hits the ground with a thud, but we’re already moving on.
“One down. One million to go,” Mozart says as her wings and her talons come out.
“I’m going to go get Ms. Aguilar,” I tell them because she’s still behind the TV cart, only now past, present, and future versions of Jean-Claude and Jean-Paul are all fucking with her, per usual.
“I’m with you,” Jude says, voice gone extra deep with rage.
“We’ll try to help Danson,” Luis volunteers with a questioning look at Remy, who nods.
“We’ll figure out where to take everyone,” Ember says as she dodges a vampire who currently has his fangs sunk deep into a leopard’s jugular. “Because this place isn’t safe anymore.”
A gust of rain-laced wind chooses this moment to tear through the broken windows. It’s fast—like a couple hundred miles an hour fast—and it sends glass shards flying through the air like missiles from all directions.
We manage to dodge the four or five that come our way, but some of the others aren’t so lucky. A howl goes up at one end of the room as a long shard slices right through one of the wolf’s clothes and imbeds itself in her abdomen.
I turn to look, only to realize a siren wasn’t so lucky. A shard of glass whipped right by her neck, slicing open her jugular.
All around us, the same scene is playing out—if not from the window glass firing at people at hurricane speeds, then from the other paranormals turning on each other.
It’s way worse than the beach, way worse than I ever imagined it could be.
We have to do something. We can’t just let them all kill each other.
“Get to Danson!” I shout to Luis and Remy.
Jude and I take off toward Ms. Aguilar, who is currently rolling herself into a ball as Jean-Paul leans over her. I don’t know what he’s saying to her, but judging from the way she’s crying, it’s not okay.
Jude grabs Jean-Paul by the shoulder and swings him around, slamming him face-first into the TV cart.
Jean-Paul lets out a screech as his face cracks the screen, but Jude just pulls him back and does it again.
In response, Jean-Claude launches himself at Jude’s back. I move to intercept him, but Jude’s already whirling around, eyes fierce and tattoos giving off a strange, mesmerizing glow as they slide down his hands and up his throat.
“Stop!” a familiar voice yells from the center of the room. “Stop this right now!”
I turn to see my grandparents racing back and forth from one end of the room to the other. Several times, Grandpa stops to try to help someone, but he can’t. His hands go right through whoever he’s trying to save, and it’s obvious he’s getting more and more worked up.
I turn back to Jude because the last thing I want to do is leave him if he needs me. But both Jean-Jerks are now face down on the floor, and he’s helping Ms. Aguilar to her feet.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him before racing to my dead grandparents.
But halfway there, I notice something else. Something absolutely terrifying. Jean-Luc and Jean-Jacques are in full fae form as they creep toward Izzy—and that damn tapestry.