CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EMMERY
The canine’s jaws sank into the meat of Destonne’s shoulder, only narrowly missing his neck.
Bloodthirsty as a shark caught in a feeding frenzy, the hound’s pupils engorged, relishing in the crunch of bone and snapping of tendons as its jaws tightened.
Blood gushed like crushed grapes and soaked both Destonne and the beast’s maw.
The hound’s crimson eyes, ravenous and vile and bloated with the promise of death, locked on Emmery.
That stare snaked a vicious chill down her spine.
Her heart stilled and for the briefest of seconds, time seemed to stop entirely as no one moved. She and the hound remained ensnared in their battling eye contact, then, as if the beast broke the laws of time and space with a single growl, it wrenched Destonne into the bushes.
Shock clogged Emmery’s throat. She lunged for the pond’s edge and scrambled onto the shore, damp earth caked beneath her fingernails. Gravel bit into the soles of her feet, as she surveyed the clearing for any other Hollowhounds. But she was alone.
Adrenaline spiked her veins like lightning and her blood sparked to life in response. Her magic hummed. Readied itself.
Aera soared down from the trees with a few anxious flaps of her wings, and joined at her side. The two shared a look, and the fox bared her fangs before she darted into the bushes.
Emmery’s saturated clothes weighed her down as she stumbled in the direction Destonne had been dragged.
Her mind raced as she formed a plan. Because if she didn’t act now, and something happened to him, she would never forgive herself.
She could take on one, two, maybe even three hounds, but she needed someone to watch her back and she had no idea if he would even hear her, but it was worth a shot.
“Brennen!” she hollered in the direction of Blackdawn Castle. Her heart thundered in her ears and her head twirled in a panicked spiral. “Brennen!”
Emmery waited a beat, but when the wolf didn’t appear, she swore under her breath and darted into the brush.
She strained her ears to capture Destonne's disgruntled shouts from far in the woods.
He had no magic, no weapon, and the hound had caught him completely off-guard.
That bite wound would undoubtedly be deep.
As she recalled how badly those rows of teeth had ripped into Callias, Emmery shuddered.
She wouldn’t let that happen.
So, Emmery sprinted, her feet slipping on the muddy ground, rocks cutting the soles of her feet. Flame erupted from her palms and her eyes burned as her khaos flame took hold.
Far in the brush, Destonne’s roar chased the squelch of teeth tearing flesh. A yelp promptly followed, like he’d gotten a good swing on the beast.
Emmery followed his voice as a guiding rope in the shadows, even as branches ripped at her face, scratched her cheeks and arms, and blood pricked her stinging skin. But none of it mattered. None of it mattered if she couldn’t get to him before it was too late.
She easily caught up to Aera and the two ran alongside one another, determined and ready for blood.
Sweat dripped from her brow and, panting, Emmery shoved herself through a thick wall of brush and emerged on the other side.
Aera leapt and landed beside her, punctuated with a sassy flick of her tail.
Emmery took in the small clearing sheltered in a globe of yellowed leaves and twisted branches, before her attention darted to the enormous Hollowhound, easily the size of Brennen.
It towered over Destonne’s sprawled form with its teeth poised over the King’s throat.
The beast’s unnatural canine eyes slid and locked on her.
Crimson streamed from its skinless maw, a mottled mix of both its own and Destonne’s.
Her blood iced over, but Emmery didn’t flinch.
No. She raised her chin and glared back.
It displayed its rows of teeth in a snarl before it stepped between her and Destonne.
He’d definitely gotten in a couple good swings given how the hound's jaw hung at an unnatural angle though it didn’t seem to notice, not with the insatiable hunger that glowed in its eyes.
But it seemed to be more concerned with the King than her.
In fact, it could have leapt at her, and didn’t.
The hound removed its paw from Destonne’s abdomen and he flopped over into a puddle of his own blood. The moonlight illuminated his shoulder—a wet mess of flesh and red. At least his chest rose with breath though each grew increasingly ragged.
Rage, unfiltered madness that sprouted from a shadowed part of her heart, roared to life.
She glared at the hound and reached for her magic, ready to roast this fucker.
As Emmery raised her hand, her flame called to her, lapping playfully at her fingertips.
Kill, consume, feast, it sang in a sickly intoxicating tune.
It thrived off her anger like a searing inferno.
Emmery grinned.
With the flick of her hand, the Hollowhound went up in a golden blaze.
It writhed uselessly against the insatiable flames, but it was no match for her magic.
As Emmery relished in the beast’s pitiful cries, something slid in front of her eyes and muddled her vision.
Something dark and shadowy whispered temptation in her ear as her khaos flame masticated the hound from the inside out.
That thing in her head thickened, the shadow blinded, and it shoved her back behind a wall. Claimed her vision.
Emmery blinked, but it was no use. She couldn’t see past it.
Don’t stop, it whispered. Kill until nothing remains. Gorge on death.
Emmery squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. But even when she killed her flame in an attempt to regain her body, see through her own eyes again, not peer through that strange veil, the darkness remained.
She rubbed her eyes until she saw stars and that shadow dissipated. Until she could see again. Until she could make out the motionless dog, now nothing more than a charred husk of ashen remains.
What the fuck was that? That dark thing had just slid in front of her eyes like it lived inside her head. Whatever it was, it seemed monstrously … alive.
She had barely regained her composure when another hound leapt from the bushes. This time, Aera struck in a whirlwind of black mist. The fox chittered as the hound froze, rigid as a statue, and lifelessly fell to the ground. Its body shattered into shards of fleshy ice.
Now that the beasts were gone, Emmery sprinted to Destonne’s side and crashed to her knees.
“Oh, gods,” she breathed, her voice trembling as she surveyed his torn skin and the exposed thorns wrapped around his bones that had punched through his chest and arms too. The hound had chewed through his shoulder as if it was made of spun sugar.
With intense care, Emmery laid her hand on Destonne’s bicep. His uneven, clammy skin caked in red stuck to her fingers.
He clutched his arm and tried to roll away as a laboured breath wheezed from him. “Don’t,” he croaked.
The thorns bit into her palm as Emmery slid her hand up and over the raw flesh. Blood pulsed from the wound in gushes, and her mind flashed back to Callias and his brush with death. The moment Vesper had died. His vestige disintegrating, light leaving his eyes, the pool of crimson she left him in—
The moment she’d failed.
Not again. She would not fail again.
Destonne gasped as her fingers pressed into the raw flesh of his shoulder. He pushed her away, but he was already so weak. “Emmery, don’t—”
She didn’t listen.
Her silver threads leapt to attention and her khaos flame pressed too, but she shoved her flame back. It had no place here and had done enough damage for the night.
Destonne’s face stilled in a wash of awe as he fell back into the dirt. The hard set of his brows softened. His lips parted and he took a shaky breath, then promptly fell unconscious as she stole his pain.
And then it diced her like a thousand knives to her bones.
Emmery clamped her jaw and screwed her eyes shut as the agony shot through her.
She couldn’t breathe and her chest convulsed like she was drowning, her lungs threatened to burst from some foreign pressure inside her.
She willed her threads to tend to his mangled skin in precise stitches.
To reform. Reshape. To reverse time itself.
But the pain was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, ravaging through her body—erupting up her back, along her arms and neck, continuing around the perimeter of her head.
It ached so terribly the edges of her vision blurred and the ground trembled beneath her.
She tumbled onto her side. Her head knocked the ground so hard it rattled her teeth.
She closed her eyes, only for a moment she thought, but when she opened them, Brennen’s dark head loomed over her.
The ringing in her ears stifled all sound and her vision still swam, but she managed to turn her head.
Destonne now sat upright, his shoulder cradled in his hold.
As she sank back into her body, her attention narrowed on her hand clutched in his.
Embarrassed, her cheeks warmed and despite everything, his incomparable smile and their almost kiss flashed in her mind.
She wrenched free from Destonne’s grip. When she pushed herself onto her knees, her damp eyes met the wolf’s burnt orange gaze.
Fresh blood dripped from his mouth. Obviously the hound had not been alone.
He sat back on his hind legs and bowed his head to help her stand.
Emmery murmured a brief thank you, and they shared a nod.
Behind her, Destonne groaned and attempted to stand though his shoulder remained a raw mess of flesh, as if she’d barely touched the wound. At least she couldn’t see his bones anymore, but the severity of it brought a wave of nausea. She swallowed it down.
Once Emmery was steady on her feet, Brennen helped Destonne stand. The King kept a hand on the wolf’s neck for balance. As his attention warred between them, in a voice like gravel, he asked, “How many, Bren?”
“Three on the outskirts. Five total including these two. None were anywhere near the castle grounds, but there’s surely more on their way. We should go.”
Brennen aided Destonne as they all gathered their things. The King stumbled several times, but Brennen caught him, let Destonne lean on him as much as he needed as he winced and fought to shrug on his trousers and shove his feet into his boots.
Emmery watched helplessly, unsure how to help without overstepping. She didn’t know what to think. Didn’t know how to process the pain she’d taken from him.
As they slowly tread back to Blackdawn Castle, Aera followed close behind Destonne and nosed the back of his leg in a show of support.
None of them spoke. And the silence between them was deafening.
Destonne only met her stare once, that look bloated with regret and shame and hurt. Such unfettered hurt it sent a pang through her too.
Upon their arrival at the castle, the King disappeared into his room, and didn’t emerge for several days.