Page 78 of Catching Camila

The beast flew back and its shoulders sunk into the window’s jagged glass. One large shard sliced through the meat of the beast's shoulder. It growled in pain.

John grabbed the beast by both shoulders and pushed down. The beast's neck sank deeper into the glass, shards piercing through its flesh, dripping in blood. It roared and lashed out with its arms. Claws scraped skin off of John's shoulder, his cheek, but he pushed, pushed. He leaned his weight on the beast, shoving down as the glass shards cut through cords of flesh. The thick smell of blood clotted the air.

The beast’s face twisted in agony. Its curved teeth gnashed and its red eyes rolled in its head.

Nomad skidded up to the window from the outside and waved his hands, frantic. “Stop! Stop!” Nomad tried to grab John through the window, but John ducked away from his grasp and continued to push.

The beast struggled out with weak hands, claws cycling in the air. Fear finally crept into its slitted reptilian eyes.

“Jopari,” Nomad said, “he's one of us!”

“What?” John flicked his eyes to the beast. The flaring nostrils pulsed in slow, straggling breaths.

“He's our friend John, one of our people!” Nomad said. “You're killing your friend.”

John's mind unraveled. How? How could that be?

“Are you saying…” John shook his head. “This is a trick.”

The beast gurgled weakly.

“He's your friend! Your partner. You grew up together. Went into the Cartharian guard together. Look at him, Jopari. Don't you remember? He's what we are, what you will be in your true form. Now get off him and let him heal!” Nomad pointed from the other side of the smashed order window. When John didn't respond, Nomad threw his arms up. “You're killing him!”

“What I'll become?” John murmured, a cold sweat breaking out across his chest. Was Nomad telling the truth? He searched his memories for something to tell him what to do. All that greeted him was a large blank wall.

And behind him Camila was quietly sobbing.

John knew he wasn't a monster. Yet, he thought back to the animal urges in the woods, the desire to tear and rip. He couldn't be… Could he?

Camila stepped up behind him, pressing a hand on John's shoulder. Even near death, the beast's eyes flared open at her scent.

John pushed down, the glass sinking upward, cutting through the beast's throat.

“Nooo!” Nomad shouted, punching through the window. Brick went flying.

The beast's arms slumped to the floor. It was dead.

Nomad stared at the body as if frozen. “How could you?” He turned wet eyes up to John.

Trembling, John fell back, his muscles shuddering, his head full of wet cotton.

“How could I not?” he whispered.

Camila stepped beside him, her palm slipping into his. Her hand was cold and shaking. He couldn't look at her. Not when he knew what he had to do.

Sirens filled the air. The police would be here soon. John swallowed hard and tried to prepare himself.

“John?” Camila whispered, tugging lightly on his arm.

“We have to go. We're already late,” Nomad said, the emotion drained from his voice. “When the general learns about this…” Nomad swallowed. “Bad, bad, bad. Goddamn it, Jopari.” Nomad shot him a vile look, clambered through the order window, and pulled the body off the jagged glass. The head dangled loosely to one side and John looked away.

Once the beast was on the ground, Nomad muttered something in a language he didn't understand, pulled out a vile of liquid, and poured it on the beast. The body began to smoke and hiss. John and Camila stepped back.

“Let's go,” Nomad said, turning.

“He doesn't have to listen to you anymore,” Camila answered.

John almost smiled. He focused on the warmth of her hand, the brush of her arm against his. He took a deep breath. “I have to go.”

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