Page 38 of Last Hope
She jumped onto his back and wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him to the ground with her in an embrace. The wolf thrashed around and snapped his rabid jaws towards Isis’s face. She dodged his attempts and squeezed tightly, feeling his ribs break one by one. The wolf let out a raging whimper and began to weaken beneath her grip.
But Isis was yanked back and off of him. She cried out as she flew to the floor and hit her head against the wood. Dry scales wound their way across her body, encircling her and squeezing just like she had done with the wolf. She felt a sharp sting against her arm and felt the poison of the snake bite burn and send fire coursing through her arm. She screamed out in pain before she felt the snake go limp above her.
Lucinda was above them, a giant kitchen knife in her hand, both covered in blood. Her face was filled with shock and fear, her chest heaving up and down rapidly.
Isis felt lament surge through her. Lucinda didn’t have to do that to save her, but she was glad that she had. But she had killed someone for Isis, and perhaps the girl would never be the same again.
Without dwelling too much on it, Isis stood from her spot to find Anya holding the wolf within some sort of force field just before she cried out words in Latin and the wolf’s body snapped in half and he fell limp on the floor.
Isis cradled her arm to her chest. “Where’s Othello?” she asked worriedly. A small squeak sounded in response and Othello jumped up into her arms. Although it hurt her to move, she adjusted her arms and held Othello closely. “We have to get out of here,” she said finally. “We have to get the children to safety.” Anya nodded in agreement and they all ran. Anya was gripping Lucinda’s hand tightly and they ran out through the back door.
The slow tendrils of fear coiled around Isis’s whole body with each step she took. Everything grew heavier around her, like fog as they attempted to make their escape. The cabin had caught fire. She could smell it, she could smell the dragon fire that Riordan had created to protect his family, but she couldn’t sense him anymore. Her heart lurched with unbearable pain at the thought of Riordan dead.
They were so close to their destination now. A few more feet and they’d be hidden within the comfort of the woods, out of the perimeter and on their way somewhere—anywhere—else. All that held Isis’s attention was getting the children to safety.
Her arm throbbed and pulsed but she didn’t let the pain stop her from pressing Othello tighter to her chest with each rapid step she took. She kept running with Anya and Lucinda by her side. She couldn’t look back, didn’t have the time to do it, not when the children’s lives were on the line.
Still, she couldn’t help but look back when she heard the cry of her name.
She spun her full body around and stared as Ami raced her way towards them. She was limping, her bow and arrow gripped tightly in her hand. Her makeup was smeared and caked with layers of ash and blood. The side of her temple was split open in an ugly gash and Isis could smell that she was losing a lot of blood.
Othello squirmed in her arms at the sight of his mother but Isis couldn’t let him go. Behind his mother, vampires and shifters were charging after her. Blood, teeth, blazing eyes: it all happened so fast. Ami’s face twisted into a mask of fear before she turned, her arrow raised…
But it never shot.
A werewolf jumped forward quicker than her and clamped its enormous jaws onto her leg, causing her to scream and fall down, dropping the bow and arrow as she did so. The rest of the creatures advanced on her and struck.
Isis blocked out the sound of her screams. She could only watch in horror as Ami looked over and stared directly in her eyes. Fear and hatred burned fiercer than dragon fire in those dark depths. Hatred for Isis, because this was all her fault. If she hadn’t shown up, if Ami hadn’t taken her into protection, none of this would be happening.
Guilt exploded into shards as if a grenade had went off inside her chest. Isis couldn’t bear it, couldn’t watch idly as Ami was torn to bits. But she didn’t have to.
The wriggling in her arms grew more intense as Othello suddenly jumped free from Isis’s grasp and ran to his mother’s aid. Isis barely had time to call out his name before he advanced. He was about a foot away from them when suddenly, the small white bunny that was Othello exploded in a shower of bright blue fireworks and light.
Isis had to shield her eyes from the brightness. She squinted after a moment, and when her eyes finally adjusted she saw Othello, now in boy form, floating above his mother’s body and above those attacking it. He was naked, his arms stretched out at his sides. He looked like a sick parody of Jesus on a cross, the way he was positioned. But his eyes were opened, the whites of them swallowing all color. A bright blue light surrounded his whole body, made him almost transparent.
“Othello!”
Lucinda was by Isis’s side and tried to dart forward for her brother. Isis grabbed her forearm before she got anywhere near them. “Take her!” Isis all but shoved Lucinda towards Anya, who was also gaping at Othello as if he was an alien lifeform. Isis started forward to reach for the young boy before they could attack him. But she didn’t make it in time.
Othello let out a shrill scream that sounded like shattering glass. The light that surrounded him suddenly expanded and pieces of that light separated from his body in small orbs, forming the figures of bewitched arrows. Before anyone could blink, each arrow dove straight for their targets into the hearts of the enemies attacking Ami.
They fell dead instantly.
The blue mist around the boy disappeared as quickly as it had come and he fell fast and hard to the ground with an ugly thud next to Ami’s body.
Isis rushed to him. He was awake, and crying, gripping tightly to his mother. Ami’s body was still, her eyes were open, staring up at the night sky that quickly rained down ash and blood. Though the lights were out in them, Isis could still see the hatred within, a look that was meant to be directed towards her. Instead, she was staring up at Othello, lifeless, motionless…and that would be the last image the boy ever had of his mother.
Lifeless, motionless, and dead eyes burning with hatred.
21
Isis had to pry Othello away from his mother with great difficulty. He put up an immense struggle and cursed and screamed when Isis hauled him over her shoulder and ran away from the only home he knew.
t had taken them twenty minutes to get into town under the cover of darkness. They had easily hailed a cab which drove them to the furthest motel two towns over where they would clean up, rest and decide what to do next.
Isis was already feeling exhausted. Her eyes felt as though they would crust over with slime, her arm felt swollen and heavy. It was difficult to keep carrying Othello, who sat frozen, with silent tears rolling down his face. Anya held Lucinda, who was crying openly and clutching a book she had taken with her to her chest as if it would keep her from sinking.
The drive there was a long and silent one. Isis longed to comfort the kids, but couldn’t find the words to do so. They probably blamed her for their parents’ deaths and she wouldn’t be surprised if Lucinda put a death curse on her right then and there.
