Page 105 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
Alma
No matter what they take, or how many feathers they pluck. You’ll always have your wings, little one.
You can always fly.
I hated the memory of that voice, because it always made me feel nothing but empty. Nothing ever followed it. No name or face. Just a voice. How awful that I wondered if it was simply the echo of my own. So desperate for any comfort, I lied to myself. Even now.
I shook my beastly head, letting the scales ripple and shift down my side to protect me better from the wind. There was freedom in the air. Despite the cold chill of the night as it rushed against my wings. As I stretched them wider and felt the luxurious calm in the tendons. Trying to take my mind off leaving that horrid house. About leaving Kat there.
She was with Emrys and Gideon. I had to be reassured by that, yet my scales still rippled with annoyance. I banked, scenting my way back. A strange primal urge that turned and twisted me through the air without thought. But before I could relish the feeling of being on the right track, a flash came from the dark forest beneath. An orange glow like fire, yet there was nothing below. No small villages this far into the wilderness.
Foolishly, I hesitated, scented the air too long. A sharp pain rushed across my back leg. Molten agony like a claw burying itself into my flesh.
I tried to pull back, sharp teeth bared, but the change was slipping away from me. As rapidly as the air through my wings. A weakness in my jaw making the sack slip free, tumbling though the air below me. I tried to shift to dart and chase it. Become smaller and more agile. Only for my clumsy limbs to struggle. Sending me into a nosedive for the earth. The dark marshy lands beneath looming closer.
Panicked, I twisted into a large bird form, only able to throw my wings wide one more time before they vanished completely, and I tumbled into a short freefall.
I hit the ground, swampy earth breaking my fall but sharp unrelenting stones still dug into my skin. One striking my cheekbone, making light flash across my vision as I tumbled to a halt, skin raw and bones aching.
Pain radiated down my back from where my wings had been, as if they’d been clipped off. I reached behind me, desperate, looking for the wound. There was nothing but the sharp points of my spine as it settled back into mortal form.
My fucking chest was too tight, breaths too short. I tried to summon my beasts but there was nothing. Just silence as I shivered in the mud.
No.
I reached for my leg, feeling cold metal protruding from the flesh that made me wince. A dart, small and gleaming in the moonlight.
With trembling fingers I pulled it free, the metal reeking of a sour, copper smell.
A smell I knew. One that had tormented my nightmares.
A sob clawed up my throat as I threw the dart away from me. Recoiling as I gripped my thigh. Blood seeping between my fingers, but the sickly metallic scent remained.
I rubbed at it hopelessly, no matter how it stung or how much filthy mud brushed the wound.
A magic suppressant. Nulling poison the menagerie used – but that wasn’t possible.
They’d been banned. Eradicated. Master Hale had promised that.
A hollowness took root inside of me, like icy claws burying themselves into my flesh. My vision unfocused. Unable to smell anything but wet earth, my heart pounding too wildly.
How quickly my beasts left me. How easily my body betrayed me. Weak and useless against the wet earth. Tremors running through my limbs helplessly.
So distracted by my own pain I didn’t hear them approach with my mortal ears. Not the snapping of leaves or the crunch of boots. Not until hands grabbed me, pulling a surprised scream from between my lips.
‘What we got here!’ The hissed words met my ear, fingers pulling at my hair. I fought. Repulsed by the cool leather of their fingers against my flesh. The bitter scent of saint smoke.
I could barely see the dark uniform of the Council hunter. The gaps in his yellow teeth and the shaggy mess of his hair. The reek of his ale-soaked breath weaker than it should have been in the absence of my senses. I bit and clawed but it was nothing compared to his strength. He struck me across the face, enough to get his meaty arms around me.
‘Feral bitch!’ he spat as one of my blows landed. Pain exploded in my temple, dark spots in my vision as he tossed me to the ground once more.
My limbs were too sluggish. Thoughts too slow. Then there was the weight of him on top of me, the sour smell of his skin.
‘Got something, lads!’ he crowed, cruel hands trying to pin me down. In a moment it wasn’t him and me against the damp soil.
No. A nightmare filled my reality. Me on a rug in a room reeking of tobacco smoke. Surrounded by cruel laughter, the rattle of a chain and the cry of creatures from rooms beyond.
The menagerie.
