Page 3 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
“It c-can’t be. It’s impossible. She said?—”
My shadows shoot forward, wrapping around his throat. His stubby fingers fly upward, dirty fingernails grasping at something he can never touch.
“Come now, Frederic. Did you truly think you could escape death?”
The woman’s chin whips from side to side as her faint and frightened face tries to discern the invisible force that’s just entered the room. Her light is nearly impossible to see. And someone so far from death would never be able to accept my presence here. To her, I’m nothing more than a ghost. Completely invisible. That doesn’t mean she can’tfeelmy presence. Most humans have enough self-preservation to fleewhen I approach. Though her current predicament at the hands of a serial wife-beater and murderer insinuates she doesn’t have as much self-preservation as most.
I send a gust of air backward, slamming the door wide once more. When the terrified woman still does not move, I imbue the air around her with a sense of urgency, fear.
Run.
Her body shudders, hairs rising on end.
Run!The shadows whisper into her ears.
Finally, she moves, her bloodied skirts swishing behind her as she bounds out of the room.
“Ah, we’re alone.” I slam the door closed, exhaling in satisfaction.
The spell surrounding the miserable oaf before me flairs to life. Verdant smoke lashes about, striking out at me. It’s a pitiful defense. Whoever cast the spell must have assumed this mark would remain hidden forever. The spell is completely inadequate for handling an encounter with the devil himself. The defensive tendrils continue to strike at me, their sting that of a simple garden snake. Harmless, yet irritating.
“Let’s clear this nasty spell away, shall we?” The muscles of my back tense and swell as my feathers push forth. Frederic’s eyes bulge as he takes in the true size of my midnight-black wings that swallow up the dimly lit room. They sweep forward, pushing a gust of wind across the space, knocking the windows wide on the other side. I pump them again, tightening my grip on Frederic and grinning in triumph as the last smoky traces of the spell vanish out the open window. “That’s better.”
My wings tuck tightly behind me. My shadows loosen just enough for the purplish hue in Frederic’s cheeks to subside. A puddle collects on the floor the moment I move into his personal space.Why must they always soil themselves?
I step aside, avoiding the foul substance.
“Now, who was foolish enough to grant you the ability to hide from death?”
His dingy brown eyes grow cloudy, jaw slackening as my influence drips down his throat. Refusing to answer is not an option.
Frederic’s mouth parts to speak, but instead of words, I’m met with a sharp screeching that has my shadows recoiling. Blood pools in his mouth until it overflows and dribbles down his chin.Interesting. I squeeze the soft spots behind his jaw, forcing his mouth open wide. My suspicions are confirmed. His tongue is in ribbons. The limp, tattered flesh oozes with fresh blood. Looks like this witch is more clever than I gave her credit for. The moment Frederic thought to speak her name, his tongue became shredded into useless, wriggling strips of pink muscle. It’s one of the more primitive identity concealment spells I’ve seen, but effective, nonetheless.
The fault falls on me. My thoughts were set on the largest of the spells, the one that had hid him from my sight. I was so focused on the most obvious of the casts, I overlooked the other signs of magic. This witch needs to be hunted down and sent kicking and screaming to my dark domain. There, she’ll join all the others who thought they could cross Death and escape unscathed.
My teeth grind together in irritation. I am rarely outwitted. But alas, if I won’t get a name from this dribbling idiot, then Frederic is of no more use to me. My excitement dwindles. The game is over before I even started playing.
“Say your goodbyes to the living, Frederic Bellingham.”
My truest form creeps forward, slipping over me with ease. I open my mouth as fangs drop into all the spaces where I had teeth before. The claws come next. My fingers twitch with the need to bury into something still producing fresh blood. The rest of my dark figure settles into place. Frederic’s eyes are so wideI could scoop them out with a teaspoon. The screams of agony that belt from his bloodied mouth intensify as I conjure a fresh wave of unforgiving shadows. They solidify, taking the form of a tangle of thorny black roots, jutting up from the earth, crucifying him where he stands. He whimpers, blood still pouring from his open mouth. The shadow thorns dig deeper, burying themselves in his flesh and stretching his arms out wide. I wait until he’s completely immobilized.
Then, I call them.
The low whistle that slips from my smirking lips would be nearly impossible for a human to hear. But my pets always come when summoned. The soft sounds of rustling feathers reach my ears from just beyond the broken window. My smirk broadens to an icy grin.
Frederic is nearly catatonic, but his eyes widen as the flapping of dozens of wings grows louder. I move closer, leaning into my victim as the first of the ravens darts through the jagged opening. They pour in like a dark cloud of fear itself. The room is dwarfed by the sudden swirling mass. They circle Frederic where he’s pinned by my shadows, cawing and squawking with eager anticipation. They know not to start before they’re given permission.
I always take the first bite.
My tongue lengthens, wrapping twice around his throat and drawing him toward my many teeth. His babbling grows more panicked. I lock my jaw around the lower portion of his face, allowing my teeth to sink in. I don’t stop until I’ve severed the bottom half.
The taste is horrendous.
I open up, letting the hunk of bone, meat, and teeth fall from my mouth. Spoiled. He should have been reaped years ago.
My clawed hand recedes into human fingers, and I snap.Let the frenzy begin.
I wipe away the blood, enjoying the chaos the ravens produce as they descend.
