Page 19 of Creatures that Breathe

“I’m in Tallinn,” I croak to the cold, unforgiving ground, convulsing, throbbing. “I’m searching,” I beg, pleading to dark, fetid magic that doesn’t give a shit, desperate to gain favor from the merciless forces at play. “I’m gathering leads, I’m—”

Obsessed, my curse dings, with her. It almost sounds like Kadmos, his dark bellow of frustration. Is she more important than your king?

My head collides with the hard ground, and I curl into the agony, as if welcoming it will prevent it from tearing me apart. Foolish. Red-hot spikes rip through me from the inside out.

Is she worth all this?

Soft, pink lips parted in shock, Leni stares at me as she slips bruised fingertips through the cage, held just short of reaching me. “Get up,” she pleads, eyes flooded with panic. “He’s angry. He’s coming.” The light has vanished from her voice. “You need to get up now.” She pounds on the chain-link, shoving her arm through the gap, stretching and straining to touch me. The tip of her finger grazes my forearm, and I instinctively recoil, fearing the curse will kill her too.

My ears pop, and a broken groan escapes me. No air for a minute now. My ankle is broken, shattered at best. Two racing pulses throb in my wrists. It feels like I’ve gone through the windshield of one car and smashed through the windshield of another.

I can hardly focus, my thoughts keep racing, wild and panicked.

The blackout is coming. Hungry to steal the blue from me, lock it away. I fight, coughing, choking. I can’t catch my breath, lungs closed up. The room spins fast as a bullet, and I pound a hand against the floor. The air’s oppressively hot and suffocating. My vision swims.

A panicked cry pierces through my blur of hell, jolting me back to reality like a splash of icy water on my face. “Cross,” the voice pleads, filled with remorse. “I’m sorry.”

She ... remembers?

She repeats those words over and over, her expression etched with sheer horror, her outstretched hand unable to reach me, but refusing to retreat. “Cross. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Cross.”

I’m not someone to be mourned.

I consider telling her, using my last conscious breath to wipe the sad look from her face, to steal a last pretty picture before I blackout when something hard slams into my jaw.

Metallic floods my mouth.

Hazily, I register clapping and hollering. A celebration.

All creatures, regardless of which Gods they worship, find delight and morbid fascination in witnessing the fall of a once mighty figure. Icarus, Achilles, Phaeton.

Tonight is no such spectacle.

I clench my teeth and the long tubes of fluorescent light burst into fragments, raining down sparks and shards of glass that embed into my back and neck.

Deafening screams.

In the darkness, I muster the strength to push myself up, smothering a cry as my arm fractures, solders together and fractures once more. I hear Lev’s voice, shouting through the roars for more, for blood and gore. I swallow the blood I can’t spit out and stagger to my feet.

The pain increases exponentially.

I can barely lift my arms, but I intercept the big body hurling toward me, allowing the Annihilator’s weight to bring us both crashing down. We scramble, grappling together mindless and filthy. Predators in the dark. I drive an elbow into his chest, ram my forehead against his. Draw away, hobble onto my solid leg and drop again, smashing my elbow against his nose.

Auxiliary lights rev up, blink on. Harsh white streams into the cage, creating shadows of crosses.

I can’t get up, even as the bell begrudgingly crowns me the victor. Creatures jeer and scream and spit at me. Bottles shatter against the cage, splintered glass and alcohol cut at me.

I should be accustomed to this forced agony, the relentless cycle of bone breaking and mending. Breaking again. But each time, it hits worst, harder.

I can’t get up.

Nausea churns within me, threatening to overtake my senses. I can’t—

The showrunner’s urgent shouting pierces the venom in my heart. He sneers for them to wrench the cage open, but he’s too slow. Lev, with a fraction of his strength, rips the door off its hinges. He steps over the Annihilator’s mangled body and forces me to my feet, half pushing, half carrying me out.

“Black smoke, black flames.” He’s yelling, has to over the shrieks. Wet, hot liquid spills from my ears. My neck’s wet too. “There were black flames in the throne room,” Lev snarls. “Hold on!”

Vibrant, ancient cursing. Tugging on my shoulder. My ears pop again. I can’t see.

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