Page 300 of Castings & Curses

They did? What the fuck?

“After the last debacle, it was necessary,” replies the first one, zoning in on me like a predator assessing his prey.

I’m stuck, utterly unable to move. The shock of the situation mixes with a relentless questioning. Why is this even happening? Who are those guys? Who hires the fucking military to go after runaways from a wackjob billionaire’s party? Are these fuckheads even military or just hired guns, up for anything just to get their kicks on? What happened last time?

“Guys, I think we’ve lost her,” the third one muses, an evil grin cutting across his face. “Maybe we can have some fun before we bring her back. What d’you say?”

He’s dancing around me now, touching my face, playing with my hair. I’m frozen, wincing at his touch but unable to defend myself even though my life surely depends on it. Why? Why am I being so weak? They’ve got weapons, that’s why. It’s three against one, and even if I could scratch his face and kick him in the nuts, I’d be dead in a minute. Fuck.

“I’ll scream,” I hear myself retort. Good one, punk. Who’s gonna pick it up anyway?

“Oh yeah?” The predator’s grin grows wider. His eyes bulge in defiance. Demented bastard. “Go on then. There’s no one around here. No one but us.”

At these words, the other two squirm, unease drawing lines on their foreheads.

“Well, the beast could hear though, mate,” says the least stupid of them all.

Worry stops the rape-thirsty cunt short, but his arrogance gets the best of him. “Then she’ll die anyway.”

“Yeah, but so will we. She’s not worth me dying. Let’s get it over with and go back.” Asshole number one looks around, fear growing on him by the second.

Asshole number three hesitates, then tisks. “Nah, I’ll take my chances.”

As he moves closer, eyes shining with lust, carnal grin ready to bite, moist hands about to grab, something in me breaks: the seal on my survival mode. Fear turns into rage, and I belt the most wholesome scream I’ve ever belched. The three fuckers block their ears and wince, but soon enough, they regain control of their senses and their hands. The first shot is fired, and it flies right past my head. Something silky brushes my shoulder as it falls onto the ground. I stare down in awe. A lock of purple hair. My hair.

Time slows down like in the movies, but it’s my life we’re talking about. More shots. Instincts take over and I duck. I need to run, but my feet are jelly in molasses, so I lose my balance instead. I can’t even leave this place, and the assholes’ utter inability to actually touch me, although appalling, won’t last long now that they’re literally inches away, their guns in my face.

I cross my hands over my face in a desperate attempt at protecting myself and see the blood. So much blood. Where’s it coming from? The radiating pain shooting up my leg at that precise second gives me a clue. I can’t leave because I’ve been shot in the leg. But wait. Why is my belly hurting so bad?

I hear them snicker and whisper among themselves. No. The sound is muffled because my brain can’t process it anymore. I glance down, trying to assess the damages they’ve made to my body, but I can’t see much anymore. Blood drips in my eyes.

The end is nigh, as the weirdo on the corner of Covent Garden wrote on his cardboard pane. Why the fuck am I even thinking this? I’m dying. I should be seeing my life fly by, and instead I’m just thinking of that homeless dude I always give a nickel to because he’s a weirdo like me. And his cardboard pane. The end is nigh. I’m dying.

Commotion to my right passes through the barrier of my sudden deafness. I turn my head and focus as hard as I can to see wolf’s feet. Huge. Too big for a wolf. Other feet in lacerated boots dangling in my vision field. Floating. Doesn’t make sense. I’m tired. Can I sleep? My eyes close.

More noise to my left. I’m not deaf, yet. No, I’m not dead yet either. Eyes open. Blood. Not mine, is it? Too much of it. Or maybe I lost too much. Don’t know. Should I care?

That’s it. My body floats. I’m ascending to the heavens. Or something. I don’t believe in Heaven. But I’m flying still. Not flying. Lifted. Carried? Moving, not upward but forward. I want to see. I will my eyes to open again, even a smidge. To see.

Fur. And above, maw. Drizzling. Beast. I’m dead.

Am I dead? Eyes open again, I think. It’s looking down on me. Sapphire eyes. They were red, weren’t they? Fur against my cheek feels like skin now. How? My eyes dart upwards again, and gold inundates my vision. A door closes somewhere behind us. Hurts. My head... Everything.

Out.

CHAPTER9

The throbbingin my leg wakes me up, joined immediately by more agony from my kidney region. I squirm and scream as I reach for both wounds at the same time to appease them, only to make the pain worse. Stupid bitch, stop moving! My skull is pounding, too. I recline onto the cushion that nested my head a minute ago, squeezing my eyes shut against the light inundating the room I’m in. Slowly, I unclench my eyelids and fight the nausea to make sense of where I am.

It’s the room I chose for myself... When? Are we still today? How long have I been out? How did I get back here? Flashes of my dreadful encounter with the three guards flood my brain and I slam back on the bed, burying my face in the pillows to put an end to it. Then comes the memory of the monster. Well, I think it was the creature who—what? Saved me? I’m still alive, aren’t I? And I definitely remember the wolfish maw and the fur... But then... Why did it not kill me? Why am I back in this accursed house?

The Persian cat jumps on my bed and I startle, exacerbating the suffering in my abdomen. He stares at me with the most nonchalant gaze as I cry out and sob uncontrollably. Fucking cat. I hate you too. Fuck, it hurts so bad. I sit up through the pain—when it’s on, might as well use the ride—and assess the damage. Bloody bandages cover my belly and my left calf. The fuckers got me good, after all. Well, looks like I’m not going anywhere in a hurry. One more flash hits me like a fucking bouncing ball I can’t dodge: the dangling feet, and all the blood underneath... Guess I won’t cross paths with those guys anytime soon.

A knock on the door makes me turn my head too fast, and a dizzying spell takes me by surprise. I faint, but it’s not the pillow that cushions my fall. Arms. Soft but strong.

“Easy there, don’t go breaking those stitches I gave you.” The voice is almost pleasant, albeit contrived.

I lift my chin and focus my gaze. Two amazing cerulean pools are staring back at me, framed in golden locks. It’s that gorgeous bitch of a woman, except she’s nice now. She looks concerned, worried even. She deposits me delicately on the pillows and fluff them up around my head. What a sweet gesture, tender. Kind.

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