Page 108 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
“Maire,” Bristol’s father whispered, a peaceful sound among the panic. “Maire. I’ve saved you. Again, my love.”
“Yes,” Maire answered desperately, her hand cupping his cheek. “Yes. Again. We’ll go home now. We’ll go home to our daughters.”
He smiled, so faint his lips barely moved, and then his eyes stilled.
Maire stared at him, like she didn’t understand, or maybe she was just absorbing the peace in his face.
Something snapped inside Bristol then. Something behind her sternum, kindling set afire.
Tyghan still worked on Kierus, refusing to believe he was gone. “Come on, you bastard. Come on.” She heard the tears in his throat.
Bristol stood and stepped back, pulling up her hood as she walked away so no one would follow. She summoned Zandra and took to the sky, her face numb, her hands numb, but a blaze burned in her chest. No nightjump was far enough away that she couldn’t find him.
Never over. And she believed him. One day he would come back for her mother. Or for Bristol.
From high in the sky, she saw a few hot spots still flaring in the valley below. But her sights were set elsewhere, and it didn’t take long to spot Mick far ahead of her, his creamy regal cape flashing in the wind and sun. He was retreating toward Fomoria with his guards, five altogether.No, Mick, you’re not running off. Not this time. She eyed them, sizing them up like game. A fool’s challenge. She was ready to be a fool. Zandra was fast, and they were quickly closing the gap.
She heard Camille’s warning.
Some never change back. They forget their old lives.
Ignore it. That’s all you have to do.
But she couldn’t ignore it. She didn’t want to.
A guard flying ahead turned, pointing her out to the others. Kormick saw her and circled back, because they were alone in the sky and his vengeance on her father wasn’t enough. Bristol had taken something from him, and no revenge would ever be enough.
Nor for Bristol. The burn glowed inside her, no longer foreign but something she had always owned.
You soar far above it all . . .
Every part of your body moves differently . . .
Something calls to you to forget your other self . . .
New instincts overtake you . . .
It’s seductive, the incredible power . . .
Kormick was close now. She could already see the smile on his face. A demigod raging with power and eager to use it. He circled around her, like she was a trapped bird. “Your father came after me, and look what happened to him. He wouldn’t give up. Just like his daughter. How do you wish to die, Bristol? Fire? Sword? Quick? Slow? You’ve never seen everything I can do.”
Bristol glanced at her fingers, knowing it might be the last time she saw them, then leaned forward and whispered to Zandra, “It is time for you to go home now, Queen. Swiftly.” Then Bristol rolled from her saddle and plunged toward the ground.
Instead of resisting the burn beneath her breastbone, she welcomed it, and the flame inside her exploded into something blinding and hot. She felt the claws first, not just the gentle blue moons beneath her nails but long, sharp claws unfurling that were meant to tear and shred. The ground was coming up fast. She thought she heard Kormick’s laugh, and then her ribs expanded, her arms and throat grew, and finally a loud popping sound rent the air, like a sail catching wind, and she felt the updraft beneath her wings. Its power was intoxicating, and she breathed it in deeply, like it was everything she had been waiting for,living for. Her fear was gone.
You want to fully sink into who and what you are . . .
She was a beast, and she sank into it, embracing every scale, tooth, and claw.
Mick shouted for his guards, his voice different, all sounds different, even the monstrous rumble of air over wings. She sucked it in, her massive lungs hot and glorious. His guards returned, creating a tiny wall between her and their king, their swords drawn and raised. She wondered if the smile she felt could be seen, if it glimmered beneath her nostrils. She swooped and banked, felt the battering and pinpricks of their weapons, a pain in her underside, and then the rush, thebump bump bumpof her wing knocking them from their steeds. They became screaming shadows plunging back to earth.
She angled her enormous head then, studying Mick, her large golden eyes seeing him differently. Seeing him as prey. A thing to be roasted and eaten. He hurled a fireball at her, and then another, the flames singeing her wings, and she heard a squeal. Her own. And then a painful roar when he hurled his sword through the air and it pierced her shoulder. She recoiled, thrashing, and the sharp movement shook it free.
She slowly turned her gaze back on him.Quick? Or slow?
She saw it in his face, his parted lips, his eyes. The terror he inflicted becoming his own. He knew.
Now it’s over, Mick, she hummed in the back of her throat.
