Page 50 of Heart of Dawn
Neither did I.
His patience breaking, Lance attacked again. This time I didn’t move as he flung himself at me. Instead, I readied my fist and cracked him in the skull just before he made contact with me. The timing was slightly off, his claws slicing my right thigh. I winced, sucking air between my teeth as I went after him. He stumbled and hit the ground, shifting, landing on his broken arm.
He screamed, the horde responding with hisses nearby.
Shit. We had to get out of here.
But I fell on him, no control over my hunger for vengeance. I lost myself to it, pummeling my fists into his face over and over again, forgetting to breathe, forgetting everything beyond my rage.
Lance Forest poisoned my life in many ways, always a thorn in my side. Always threatened the people I cared about.
Not anymore.
I kept beating him, fucking up his face, his blood spraying, his body going limp. And it wasn’t enough. Like me, he had built-in shifter strength, a degree of self-healing that would eventually put him back on his feet if I didn’t finish the job properly.
Where he failed to break my neck, I succeeded. He went limp, blood pooling under his ruined head.
I sat on his chest, catching my breath, staring down at the mess. I felt nothing, not even relief. Only emptiness—the kind that sidestepped numbness. Lance was dead and that was it. No fireworks, no ceremony, nothing but the metallic stench of his blood and the violent sounds of the horde closing in on us.
Getting to my feet, in need of ointment and a hot bath, I finally came back to myself.
Daria’s was on her knees beside Joe’s ashes, head bowed.
Shit.
Basil stared at me, mouth hanging open.
“We have to move,” I wheezed, standing there stark bollock naked and sore as hell. “The horde…”
“Joseph…” Daria whispered. “My dear friend. Too many friends lost.”
“Daria, we have to?—”
Her head snapped up. “Move. Yes. We have to move. Yes. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t fight with you.” She was back on her feet.
“Not your fight,” I answered. “I’m sorry about Joe.”
“Grieving can wait. Come, fae. I will carry you.”
Basil didn’t argue, climbing onto Daria’s back. Silently, she followed me along the dirt path, the two of us breaking into a jog. I worked through the pain, picking up my pace.
Lance is dead,I told myself, still feeling absolutely nothing.
Lance. Is. Dead.
Maybe one day I would celebrate. Maybe one day it would feel less anti-climactic. He didn’t suffer enough. He didn’t scream enough. I didn’t hurt him enough. God, he deserved so much worse than what he got.
“Interesting,” the voice of Dawn came from behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see the possessed biter again.
What I saw jolted me to a stop, got my body turning, my hackles rising.
Lance was back on his feet, his swollen eyes tainted pink, that damn smoke coiling around his body like a pink python.
Behind him, hundreds of Dawn-infested eyes lit up the night.
“I see nothing but the failures of life on this planet,” Dawn said, its voice twinned with Lance’s. Distorted, not as clear, but still creepy. “Where is the unity? Why do you not fight together? Too late now. You killed him, his body is mine. But your world is strange. Your world is losing.”
