Page 11 of Wicked Magik
Chanting, chanting, chanting.
Words that are not theirs to say.
My Lord is furious.
Kill them all, Oryx.
Spill their blood.
The fur on my back bristled and I roared into the night. The heat of my breath raised into the sky and I charged until I hit theenchantment that kept others away from the portal and charged through it.
My Lord blessed me to pass because he trusted me.
I reached the clearing and I stood on my two hooves. There was a circle, a placement of a human body and its human sacrifice. A male stood holding a sacred book that I was to retrieve to ensure this would never happen again.
I sliced my claws through the air to make way of my massive form. Two of the humans drew weapons, my Lord said were calledguns. The tiny rocks pelted me in the chest. It had no effect on me.
I cannot die.
I let out a thunderous roar and sprinted toward the human clutching the book. He was the leader, the one who needed to be stopped first. With a powerful leap, I closed the distance between us, my sharp claws slicing through the air until they found their mark in his neck. His voice, which had been muttering incantations moments before, fell silent as his crimson blood gushed over my hands, warm and sticky, trickling down my arms like a gruesome river.
The metallic tang of fresh blood filled the air, and my senses went into overdrive. My hearts pounded in my chest as I leaned closer, the crimson liquid glistening under the dim light. My tongue flicked out, drawing the coppery essence into my mouth, and I savored the heady taste that sent a shiver down my spine.
I groaned and before I could partake in drinking his blood, another pelt of a rock hit my side.
The two other humans, their eyes bulging with terror, ignited a wild excitement within me. That fear was intoxicating, and I craved it, devoured it. I wanted to consume everything—their fear, their blood, the surging adrenaline that intensified their flavor, making it irresistibly sweet.
I dropped the spell wielder and lunged for them. My movements sloppy. It didn’t matter, humans were weak and their weapons pointless.
I took long strides over, the humans too frightened to move. One hand plunged into a stomach and the other gripped their neck. I sunk my teeth into the shoulder. Their cries beautiful. My tongue lapped at the blood and if I had eyes they would have rolled back into my skull.
The blood satisfied my thirst. It would last me days. I wouldn’t have to hunt daily for animal’s blood.
My Lord is smart.
My Lord is wise.
Screams from behind me caught my attention. Two more humans. Two more to taste.
With great reluctance, I let go of the two now lifeless bodies within my grasp and they dropped to the ground. When I turned, I saw the fleeting figure running from where I came and one human tied and bound staring with fearful eyes.
I tilted my head.
The wind blew in my direction again. The gold leaves whispered against my snout, and that scent washed over me again.
The blood on my hands caught my attention. I licked the stray blood on my claws but again the wind whispered against my snout.
Jasmine and honeysuckle. Close, it was close. Was it here?
I bounded toward the human, tied and bound. He screamed in fear until his eyes closed and his body fell limp.
Hmmm.
I sniffed him from head to toe. His body did not produce the scent but there were remnants of it on him.
I scratched my head.
I wanted the scent. Where is its origin?
