Page 85 of Never Say Die
Aiden clung to him, savored him, but the brutal cry of tangled voices cracked the sky like thunder. He knew her. Cit, screaming, and Laura, wailing, and the rest of those witches—their terrified, angry death-cries—shooting from Laura’s wide mouth. He felt Shay’s fangs press against his lips, felt him snarl and whip around. Laura’s knuckles graced Shay’s cheek. She struck him the same way Cit had struck Aiden in the desert, bone-shattering and merciless, and sent him stumbling into the wall.
Old blood crusted the torn corners of her mouth, splitting into her pale, sunken cheeks. Her jaw rattled, too open, too low, and the dead sped over her dry, unmoving tongue. Mangledwith yips, growls and avalanches, Aiden heard a desperate, high-pitchedplease,and the gurgling, gasping breath Cit had taken as he’d plunged the knife into her chest. He heardnoandstopandgod, help me, and Laura saying,hey rockstar. Bones snapped in her mouth. Waves crashed, trees fell, lions roared. He heard hell in her.
She stood with one arm loosed from the socket, all black-eyes and serrated teeth, wearing a snug blouse and gym shorts too large for her. Scuffed feet dug at the concrete, toenails chipped and bleeding. Her chest dove inward, unnaturally dented. When she moved, her ankles buckled, as if the weight of her skeleton bore too heavy on the intent driving her forward. She smashed against Aiden, pressing all of her against all of him, and exhaled rancid breath across his cheek.
“That’s the exchange, sweetheart,” she said, Laura and not, screamed and not, Cit and not, whispered and not. “Sacrifice is just a synonym for love, anyway.”
Uneven claws snagged his clothes, scrabbling on his tank, digging into his clavicles. She angled her teeth at his rosary and curled her lips back. Like this, with her mouth howling open, he saw eyes glinting at the back of her throat, peering out from pink flesh. Hazel and gray and deep, dark green, surrounded by ingrown eyelashes, and blunt, square teeth, as if another self—multiple selves—had tried to push into existence. Before she could bite him, Shay took Laura by the neck and ripped her away. Dirty teal hair stuck to her forehead, and she let out another guttural cry, chittering and yelping, broadcasting replays of the witches’ last moments into the air. They didn’t fight, necessarily. Shay tossed her and Laura skidded to the ground. They barked and screeched at each other, Shay like a hyena, like a wolf, like something deadlier, and Laura like an eagle, like a bear, like the undead. She climbed to her feet andstretched her mouth unnaturally wide, but Shay towered over her.
Aiden sealed his spine to the wall. He froze, staring at her, at him, and fumbled for his rosary. “Shay, don’t?—”
Laura met Aiden’s eyes as Shay took her by the throat. She kicked and heaved, toeing at the concrete while he lifted her into the air. Aiden knew what it felt like to have Shay’s hand around his throat. He’d felt it the night Shay had returned, standing in his apartment, seeking vengeance. After that, Shay curling his hand beneath Aiden’s jaw in the shower, gripping just enough to make him whimper. Grabbing Aiden’s throat and pulling him into a kiss. Kneeling over him, cupping the base of his neck.
But there, like that, he felt Shay’s hand locked around him, squeezing to kill.
Aiden gasped and choked. Fell to his knees. Clawed at the invisible hand cutting off his air supply, Laura’s air supply. Wringing the life from his body, Laura’s body. Leaving indentations where fingertips bruised his neck, Laura’s neck. Blackness flared at the cliff of his vision. His hands numbed. He kicked involuntarily, as if his body couldn’t resist trying to run.
Finally, he rasped, “Shay,” then again, with all his might, “Shay!”
Air filled his lungs on a ragged inhale. He sucked in another painful breath in tandem with Laura, who crept away, batting at her throat. On the other side of the building, hustle and bustle echoed, laughter came and went, teasing at normalcy.
Closer, the back door opened, and Camila said, “Aiden?”
No, Aiden thought.No, no, no.
Camila screamed like she had when she was a young girl, frightened of geckos and scary stories about weeping women. She rushed to him, shaking violently and digging through her purse, flicking open a useless pocketknife. Laura Noble—whatevershe’d become—hid in the shadows, but Aiden saw her nostrils flare. Felt recognition slide into place, as if she’d unlocked a trap door. Found a shortcut. Collected a comparable ingredient.
“Come on.” Camila tugged him to his feet, holding the knife defensively. “Tukákame, get the fuck away!”
Shay kept his back to them. He curled his claws into his fists and lunged toward Laura, forcing her to scramble backward. When Laura ran, he chased her.
“C’mon, Aiden. Comeon,” Camila said, panicked. She tried to pull him inside, but he stopped in the doorway.
“Go, Cami. I’m fine, it’s fine?—”
“It isnotfine. You’re coming with me—you’re coming home!”
“I have to find Shay, okay? Go with Georgia. That was just some crazy fucking fan with weird makeup?—”
“Don’t you dare, Aiden Ramírez, don’t youdare. I know what I saw.”
Chaos spread like a pair of wings, shadowing Decatur Street. Blood-curdling screams erupted. Hysteria unraveled. Footsteps slapped the sidewalk and people shouted on the other side of the building.
“Did you see her face?”
“Someone call an ambulance!”
“Did she have a knife?”
Georgia skidded toward the door, wide-eyed and flushed. “Someone just got attacked out front. We need to go, like, right now.”
“Take her.” Aiden pushed Camila inside. “I’ll find Shay.”
Camila swiped at him. “Aiden, don’t?—"
“Take her, Georgia! Get to the hotel. I’ll meet you there. I’m dead fucking serious. Go—now,” Aiden snapped, and slammed the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
