Page 84 of Her Rabid Beasts

As the screams of their friends die out and the two balls of flame become funeral pyres, some primal fear takes over the remaining three. They shift into their vermin forms, clothes falling into piles on the floor as two giant worms, an anacondaand a Black Mamba, slither right at me while the female tries to escape.

But they don’t know that I love them most in this form.

Really, I cherish it.

I lash out with two ropes of orange fire, catching them lasso-like around their necks. They screech for all of two seconds as their throats burn all the way through and then drop to the ground. The cobra anima, no doubt their filthy leader, is now rearing up, baring her fangs at me and doing that weird growling hiss that cobras do.

“Go on,” I taunt softly, walking around the Boneweaver to see the cobra better. “Give us a little bite.”

A foul, forked tongue slithers out and tastes the air. It’s like nails on a chalkboard for me, so I flick a hand out and snag her around the throat with a thin band of low heat flame. This one I want alive.

The anaconda now lies dead under my fire lasso. I allow the flames to engulf him completely to make a third funeral pyre. It’ll be cleaner if we just burn the carcases to ash and leave no evidence.

The Black Mamba, however, still thrashes against his lasso. A roll of black fabric lies open with various tools for slicing, opening, and just good old pain.

Anger rises in me, hot and fiery like my own living flames.

Before I know it, my hand has lashed out and blood and guts go exploding in every direction. My magic is not like feline telekinesis. It’s pure power, and in this case, pure pressure. I don’t use it often because it’s usually not necessary or fun.

Four vermin down, one left.

I increase the pressure on the cobra anima’s airway until it goes unconscious.

Then there’s only the sound of flames from the pyres consuming the four corpses.

No, that’s not correct, there is a certain… melody in the air. It’s pure and crisp. Like ankle bells chiming under moonlight. It’s seductive, wild, alluring?—

I shove my headphones back in.

Aurelia stares at me almost blankly, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she just saw in the last five minutes. Then her nostrils flare as she takes in a breath and smells the burning corpses.

That face that haunts my nightmares contorts in outrage. “You killed them!”

Her stupidity knows no bounds.

So, I explain it to her like she’s a child. “I had to leave one for Savage, otherwise he’d be upset.” I gesture a dismissive hand at the cobra, lying unconscious by my feet.

My dragon self sends me smoke and cinders in a mighty, threatening puff.Settle down,I snap to it.Can’t you see I’m saving her sorry ass?

Hurry up, cretin,it snaps back.Get her back to our room so we can soothe her wounds with our tongue.

Nope, not in this lifetime.

The cobra anima seemed to be the leader, so I kick her clothes around until keys chime, and return to the Boneweaver girl.

Blood trickles from the glowing mark on her neck, but it’s clotted, so it wasn’t deep. She’s scared out of her wits, sweating, trembling and stuttering with adrenaline like a hatchling. She smells of fear and pain and something heady that’s just as offensive.

Crouching down before her, I roughly release her ankle shackles, first the left and then the right, and now her bare legs are in my face. “Why is there so much drama everywhere you go?”

“I’m the drama?” she splutters, holding back tears. “You’rethe onemurderingleft and right.”

“I don’t need much of a reason to do that, really,” I reassure her. “Might be you next.”

“You already tried that, remember? Didn’t work.”

She’s blubbering, trying to be brave, but her constant tremor gives her away.

“Barely. You escaped by the skin of your venomous fangs.”

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