Page 46 of The Musician and the Monster

Deep rumbling from behind froze her body to the core. A scream lodged in her throat as she whirled toward the noise.

A dark beast.

A monster.

Themonster.

It hovered in the shadows near the far wall, not far from where she’d entered. Its red eyes glimmered in the rays of sunset filtering in through the windows. A clawed hand scraped against the gray stone floor with a shrill screech, leaving behind white grooves.

“Goddess, no.” Her head spun. Her body shook.

Drystan had tried to keep the monster at bay…and lost.

The monster lounged on all fours like a wolf. Yet it was too large, its limbs oddly formed in a way she hadn’t noticed the first time she’d glimpsed it. Dark fur marred the skin of its back, face, and what little she could see of its chest. But the arms and legs were mostly hairless, dark flesh strung tight over bone.

Her hand slipped on the altar where she gripped it for support, coating her palm in sticky wetness as she held herself upright. The beast stretched and slunk toward the stair.

Never taking her eyes off it, Ceridwen moved behind the altar on shaking legs, a last defense against the beast. The weapons she’d spotted stood too close to the monster itself.Reaching them would be a gamble, one she likely would not win. The bloody dagger on the stone slab was the only reasonable item within range. Yet as she stretched her fingers toward it, something halted her—an invisible tug on her sleeve, a whisper she could not quite hear—as if the Goddess herself warned her against that course of action.

She left the dagger where it lay.

“What did you do to Drystan?” she demanded of the monster subtly pacing near the stairs, fear giving force to her words. From this angle, she could see that no one else occupied the top floor, living or dead.

The beast’s head bobbed. A soft growl floated through the space between them—more a wail of the dead than any animalistic sound. The chill of it nearly stopped her heart. If it could speak in human tones, it chose not to. Instead, the monster slunk forward, gliding along the floor with catlike grace despite its awkward limbs.

Another scream threatened to tear its way from her throat. A window stood behind her, but if she could get there in time, the leap to the ground many floors below would certainly kill her.

Ceridwen had no illusions regarding how quickly this monster could kill. Likely it could leap upon a grown man and tear out his throat in two heartbeats. She’d seen the result. That horrific sight would never leave her mind—not for long.

The best chance lay in making it back down the twisting stairs to the main hall, where hopefully, the others would still be waiting. Together, they might have a chance.

Maybe.

The monster gave another wail that made her skin crawl and set her teeth on edge. She grabbed the sides of a heavy wooden chair nearby. With effort, she lifted it between herself and the monster, a last defense and distraction as it slunk around the edge of the room, rounding the final edge of the stone altar that had lain between them.

She flung the chair with all her might. It clattered to the stone and slid across the ground to tap into the monster’s foreleg and side. As soon as it raised its clawed limb to swat at the offensive object, she sprinted for the stairs.

Goddess, please.She prayed, lunging for the pathway down.

A firm tug jerked one leg backward and sent her body crashing forward. Ceridwen screamed, but the impact knocked the air from her lungs and sent her teeth rattling. Sharp pain echoed through her bones, accompanied by the piercing stab of claws that poked through the leather of her boots at one ankle.

“No, please! Let me go!” She twisted around to face the looming monster. She prayed to the Goddess as she thrashed her legs and held her arms in front of her. The movement increased the stab of its claws where it still dug into her boot.

Finally, the claws released. The curved tips dripped blood as the monster raised them to its fanged maw and sniffed. A long, almost black tongue flicked out to lick her blood from its talons.

Ceridwen attempted to push herself away from the monster in its moment of distraction but halted as a deep growl ripped from its throat.

“Goddess, spare my soul,” she prayed. “Don’t let it end this way. Not now.”

Death stared her in the face, its gaping maw exposing jagged teeth ready to shred her to ribbons. Tears blurred its form.

“Drystan.” Like a prayer all its own, his name slipped from her lips.

The red of the monster’s eerie eyes dimmed. Its head reared. Its mouth closed.

“Drystan,” she whispered again, praying that somehow the name that cracked from her throat all rough and heavy had caused the change.

After what might have been a deep sniff, the red receded from the creature’s eyes until she gazed into familiar pools of dark cerulean. Claws clinked upon the ground near her boots as it scooted back like a dog shamed by its owner. Garbled noises filled the space between them.

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