Page 41 of Shadow & Stars
“What should we do?” Past Xavier asked his king. “He can’t even take the blade out himself.”
Enjoy the show, did you?
“Try moving him,” Ismael ordered a different king.
Hmmm. Was Ismael considered the big boss of the big bosses?
The other demon king couldn’t get purchase on my ghostly body.
Tee-pissing-hee!
Ismael huffed.
“This is impossible, My King.” Tanith’s voice. She pushed through the monarchs, joining her two besties.
Her auburn curls stuck up all over the place, her dark green snake body flexing with scary strength. A real pain in the arse.
I caught a glimpse of Darcy’s body. I slammed my eyes shut, patching up the hole in my defenses.
I’m The Shadow.
I’m The Shadow.
“We leave him here,” Ismael began. “Seal him in until I decide what to do with him.”
Dream on, dickhead!
I sprang to my feet, taking a swing at the king who tried grabbing me and passed right through him. He yelled, I spun, trying again.
Nope. My kick hit air.
Damn.
He came at me, joined by another king. They bumped into each other, me not even a little bit of a filling between them.
“I really am a ghost.”
Ismael chuckled. “Indeed, you are.” He came closer. “Did you kill him, Butterfly?”
“Fascinating,” was all the insectoid wanker could say.
“I’m not dead,” I protested.
“Between life and death, then,” Ismael retorted. “Undead, if you like.” His lips curled up in triumph. “Well done, Butterfly. You have certainly castrated this threat. He is nothing. He is useless. Doomed to exist until his body decides his time is up.” The wanker slipped his arm around Xavier. “A slayer of his love. Useless. Nothing more than a wisp of cloud.”
No. No. No. He was wrong. I was his fucking doom. Any minute now, I’d take his life.
Butterfly nodded, his eyes scrutinizing me as if under his microscope.
I snapped, my fury exploding out of me as a wail. I rushed him, cursing his name, throwing endless punches, kicks, even a headbutt.
It took me a minute to quit, bending over to catch my breath.
Dead things don’t need to breathe!My inner words didn’t offer me much comfort.
A chorus of laughter brought my tears back. I felt like a kid at school surrounded by bullies. Sneers and jeers, fingers pointed at me because I’d wet myself after Terry Stamper called me a bad word before punching me in the stomach.
Fuck Terry Stamper. I’d kicked his arse in that same moment, made him pissandshit his pants by the end of it. Landed myself in hot water for breaking his jaw.
