Page 32 of The Sacrifice

So, I throw on the coat and hurry out of the bathhouse with the sound of Drago’s hearty laughter barreling through the house and reverberating into my chest to shake my very heart.

22

"What have we here?" the monster croons…

QUINTESSA

Tearing through the castle gardens, which are nothing but brambles and twisted bone sculptures, not to mention corpses, I scream for the hundredth time, “Qora!” My voice leaves in a brittle rasp as I swing my head in all directions. I’ve never done well at slowing down and processing, at thinking through things, but I try harder than ever. Closing my eyes, I lean into that echo of pain in my mind. It grows from needles to spikes to bore into my blood, but it’s the savage screech in the distance that strikes fear into my heart. Too many times, I have heard Qora screech. More in self-loathing or exasperation because she couldn’t bring herself to kill me. This screech is different. It’s horror and darkness, pain and fear.

I break into a run toward the gap between the dragon skeletons fused into stone foundations. Their snouts form an arch, reminding me of a gate. I freeze mid-step in realization. They are a marker. And signify the ends of the castle grounds. Before me lies that plague of forests with gnarled trees fracturing the sky with their claw-like branches. My throat burns when I remember what Drago said about the gods hunting me. Even now, I swear I feel their hot breath licking my spine, promising punishment, but when I turn, no presences stalk the gardens behind me.

As soon as another screech echoes from those dark woods, I run past the gap and cross a narrow patch of ashy ground before plunging into the woods. A labyrinth of thin threadbare branches tangles all around me, trees so thick, they clot any sort of path. More ashes cover the ground beneath my feet. Despite how tall the trees rise, their bodies and branches betray the marks of fire, of scorched or charred bark. Not one leaf grows upon a single branch. Cinders thicken the air, along with the scent of smoke, and I choke. Gathering the loose tunic, I tuck it around my face, relieving my wailing lungs.

“Qora,” I whisper in a desperate plea to no one in particular because no gods exist here but for monsters. A pale creature the size of a large dog skitters past me on all fours. Its movements remind me of a rat, but no fur covers its body. When it twists its head toward me, I bite back a shriek and stem the fear shooting up my spine. While the limbs are thin and bony, and the face is rat-like with razor-sharp teeth, the eyes staring back at me are undoubtedly human.

Everything is dry and brittle. No breeze stirs in the branches, but I faintly feel my eyes water, smoldering from the air, which grows hotter. The further from the castle I go, the fewer sensations I have. Except for inside my body. Nothing could compare to the hurt howling in my skull and threatening to collapse my chest.

The screeches trip over one another, and I drive myself forward, blindly attacking the branches. At one point, they stab so hard into Merikh’s jacket, I must shrug out of it and leave it behind. Pressure grows in my chest. Small, human-like creatures ramble past me, reminding me of rodent monsters.

When one screech changes into a shrill scream, a few hundred feet from me at the most, I practically dive through a snarl of thin branches that block my way. Careless over how the keen tips rake my skin. Old wounds have opened, but I ignore the blood trickling down my arms. I don’t feel that pain at all. Only Qora’s.

Another scream unleashes into the air, and it drives me harder through the entanglement until I finally break free and fall face-first into a shallow but sludgy pit of mud and ashes. Lifting my head and wiping the mud to clear my vision, a scream lodges in my throat. My chest lurches.

There is my Shadow. Back arched. Head thrown back. And her entire shade body convulsing from the figure attacking her. Another monster, but the sight of this one is enough to curdle my blood from her spectral orbs suspended in their black sockets to her spindly arms and bone hands that end not in fingers but long, thin claws like tree branches. Her skin is pale and translucent like a fish. With her jaw detached and mouth open to show razor-sharp teeth as she unleashes a constant sound like a deep groan, she doesn’t seem aware of me. The sound reminds me of the banshee screams in the Wailing Woods—but in reverse. Regardless, I’m scrambling to my feet because whatever power this creature wields, it’s torturing Qora. Her shadow-vym grows dim as if this monster is sucking it right from Qora. That deep groan roars in my eardrums, deafening as a war horn.

The ash and mud hush my footsteps until I’m close enough to lunge for the monster, knocking her off balance, but not to the ground.

“Run, you mad, little fool!” cries Qora as I spring in front of her, but the monster doesn’t wait to observe me. She leaps for me. Her claws lash at my clothes, my face, scrawling fine lines. I feel no pain, but my heartbeat pounds violently in my chest. But the moment one drop of blood falls onto the creature, a screech splits the air, blaring in my ears, and ricocheting off the surrounding trees.

Qora drifts toward me, her arms open and desperate, struggling to extend her shadow-vym. It barely touches the creature that shoves me up against a nearby tree. So hard, the bark must chafe my skin. Pinned beneath the weight of her body, I can’t move, stunned by how strong she is. Her long black hair pricks my cheeks, and she detaches her jaw. Mouth open wide. Two long, thin tentacles protrude from each side of her mouth, lodged in the cheeks. I cringe as they curl upward and peck at my skin as if she’s scenting me.

“What have we here?” the monster croons, and shock rips through me. I expected a voice as screechy as the shadow-fliers of the Waste. Instead, hers is rich, smooth, and sultry.

I stiffen as she drags her long claws down the side of my face. Those tentacles don’t stop pecking. Too terrified to speak, caught in the web of those iridescent orbs, I chew on my inner cheek and wince when those claws roam along my throat, pausing at my pulse. That’s when I realize Qora is gone.

“Ooooh, a human. But not quite, are we right?” I can’t tell if she wants me to respond, but I shiver as those claws near my heart. “Warm blood, but some cold. And...ooooh! Not Waste-born. Not Waste-. But she—ah!” She recoils with a screech, her upper lip pulled back in a snarl to reveal sharp incisors that chill the blood in my veins. “Binder!”

“A blood binder,” I manage to choke out, lowering my brows in confusion over my common gift. I swing my head all around but still see no trace of Qora.

The tentacles wave violently as the monster paces in the mud, seeming to argue with some invisible being, whether in her head or a presence unknown to me. “Core and light. Womb and death. Fire and earth and blood and air. Breath and bones. Breath!” shrieks the creature, spinning around with her back to me.

I slowly tiptoe past the tree, wondering if I can make it through that small gap in the trees a hundred feet away. The snarl of brambles is closer, but I can’t afford the delay. With those spindly, skeletal limbs, there is no way that monster can follow me.

She babbles on as I step past the tree, mindful of any twigs—but thankful for the ash beneath my feet, thankful no leaves crunch below my soles. “Confessor and cure. Too strong, too sweet, could not eat it all. Where the fuck is it?” Another snarl, and I freeze, whipping my head up, but she’s still pacing. Another screech, a deep groan followed by a string of curses.

About ten feet from her now.

“Birth and dawn. And light! Flames and roots and wind and veins. Heart and touch. Touch and tears. Shadow and breath. And light, it burns!”

She whips her whole body around in one sleek movement. I turn and flee, tearing into a run. She’s much quicker on those rickety limbs than I believed. Before I make it three steps, those claws tear at my back, ripping through the tunic and into flesh. No pain but an echo of pressure. With enough of a grip on the tunic, the monster hauls me back, throws me to the ground, and climbs on top of me, snarling and growling. Fear surges up my spine as those tentacles stab at my face, and she picks up a large rock. Those spectral orbs narrow in clear intent.

“Suck the Shadow. Break the girl. Come eve Hollow. Save our world!”

One screech. My eyes widen. She brings the rock down. I raise my arms to cover my face.

The blow doesn’t come. Her body falls off me. And lands ten feet away in a ditch of ash. A shocked gasp leaves my throat at the sight of the creature with its paws on her chest and its teeth digging into her hair, ripping strands right from their roots, leaving patches of her scalp bare. No bigger than a large cat, scrawny and cadaverous with its ribcage prodding through its flesh, sagging skin, and three bedraggled tails, it’s hard to believe it’s doing enough to have the she-monster screaming and thrashing. And then, the strike comes. She grabs what little fur she can from the cat-like creature and hurls it into the air. My heart catapults in my chest, and I gasp when its body knocks against a nearby boulder. I swear I hear something crack, and energy surges through me, bursting desperation into my nerves. I could care less that it delays me. I scramble to the little cat, snatch its wounded body, and fly as fast as my feet will carry me.

When I look down, I feel my lips tug into a smile. It’s not a cat. It’s a fox.

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