Page 32 of Fanged Secrets
A scream lodged in my throat when the demonic creature opened its mouth, jaws unhinging to reveal row upon row of needle-like teeth. The creature snapped those deadly fangs shut on the scaled gargoyle's flailing arm, and I caught a glimpse of its face. A slitted nose and wide-set eyes, blood red and burning with vicious intent.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t run. I was rooted to the spot, clutching the dented bumper of the upturned car to keep myself upright.
In a swift, horrifying moment, the sinewy angel of death took down the gargoyle. I watched in mute terror as it dove glistening claws deep into the scaled creature’s back, tearing with a ferocity that made my stomach churn. Pointed fangs sank into torn flesh, ripping and burrowing into the gargoyle’s ridged back until it finally went still. The scaled face was skewed my way and I caught a glimpse of a lifeless, oil-black eye.
The sight of that gruesome engorged face burned into my retinas and a wave of nausea threatened to topple me to my knees. The bat-like creature gave one final slash, and blood sprayed the asphalt in dark arcs. The creature stood on bent hind legs, victorious over the gargoyle's lifeless body, ribbed chest heaving with exertion, blood dripping from demonic teeth and claws.
Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my body refused to obey, aghast at the wretched creature before me. I willed my legs to move, pressing fingers to my forehead to staunch the blood that trickled down my face. It had killed whatever that scaled thing was. It would be coming for me next.
As if it could hear my thoughts, the monster settled on its haunches and set its sights on me. Two blood-red eyes met mine and I shrank back against the mangled car. I took a half-stepbackward, shielding my body behind the bumper, and watched the monster fall still.
The creature watched me for a moment and I held my breath, ignoring the sharp pain in my forehead. When my lungs began to burn and I thought my heart would leap out of my throat, the creature tilted its head, long arms hanging at its sides.
Slowly, laboriously, the creature extended a bloody, taloned hand toward me. Like tunnel vision, all I could see were claws – reaching for me, eager to tear me apart. I flinched violently, my entire body jerking away. But still, I couldn’t run.
My breath came in short, panicked gasps. Cold sweat trickled down my back.
The creature’s eyes, red and gleaming, held a glimmer of something familiar, but it was overshadowed by the sheer terror of the rest of it. My body shook uncontrollably and my mind spun in circles, trying to reconcile the familiar and the horrifyingly incomprehensible.
Finally, I settled on one, spine-chilling thought.Monster.
Catapulted back to reality, my body responded to the primal urge to flee. With my heart in my throat, I turned on my heel and ran, tearing through the broken fence and into the field beyond, trampling corn shoots as I went. I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to get as far away from thatthingas possible.
I ran until my chest was aching and my lungs screamed for respite, pushing through the throbbing pain in my head and the darkness that clouded my vision.
I had no way to tell if the creature was following me, no way to hear the tell-tale footfalls of pursuit. I didn’t want to look back, but my spine prickled with unease and I had to know.
I glanced over my shoulder, and my mind hit a wall. There was no monster behind me, no jaws widening to swallow me whole.There was only Dylan, swathed in waves of raven hair, watching me from the wreckage on the side of the road.
In my panic and confusion I lost my footing, scuffing a stubborn shoot and falling hard. My ankle twisted painfully as I crashed into the dirt, showered in a spray of damp soil. My breath came in short sharp bursts as I flipped myself over and stared, twitching like a frightened rabbit.
Dylan looked the same as she always did, pale and tense, watching me through waves of black hair that shifted in the breeze. But she was covered in blood, streaked through with sweat and grime. It clung to her tattered clothes and dropped from her fingertips. She stood out like a jagged blade against the gray sky. In that tense moment of stillness, she felt like a stranger.
Dylan approached cautiously. I watched in mute terror as she stepped over the broken fence and moved toward me, stalking me with the fluid grace of a predator. She never took her eyes off me, never blinked. It was her eyes that unsettled me most. Pinprick pupils lost in a sea of deep crimson.
She was barefoot and her clothes hung from her slender frame in tattered rags, her mouth stained a sickening scarlet. A vengeful spirit ripped right out of a blood-curdling work of fiction. Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t make any sense of her words.
My eyes settled on her hands instead, tinted that same startling shade of red. Those hands were moving, gesturing toward me and crossing over her chest, sweeping to the side and back again. I could only stare, shaking on the spot and fisting my own hands in the dirt.
Dylan crept closer and I gritted my teeth, curling my grazed knees toward my chin. She was the woman I knew and had come to care for. But she was also a stranger steeped in mystery, anunbreachable wall of ice. She was also, possibly, a monster. The blood on her hands was proof of that.
My mind was reeling, trying and failing to string the patchwork pieces together to get the full picture.
Dylan’s hands grew more exaggerated, her haunting eyes pleading. Her fingers twisted and her hands flailed, gesturing to me, crossing over her chest. Her movements were all at once clumsy and desperate, but my fear only heightened. Her lips moved again and I saw fangs, pointed and needle-like. I remembered the brush of those canines against my throat, the blood on my bottom lip. I shook my head, unable to process what she was trying to convey.
I fought for control over my tumbling thoughts, sucking in cold breaths through my teeth. What had I just seen? What was she?What exactly was I married to?
Dylan phased in and out of focus, only her hands clearly visible. Fingertips touching her chest, circling there, leaving a scarlet half arc on her bare skin. A hand swiping at an angle, index fingers twisting like a screw. A shake of her head that sent her hair flying. And all the while she held that pleading, desperate expression in her unblinking eyes. I couldn’t hold her gaze for long.
I bit down on my lip, wrapping my arms around my knees, folding in on myself. Through haphazard curls, I stared at her hands as she repeated the same motions over again.
At first, it looked like she was just waving her hands about, but some small part of my fracturing mind recognized the movements. Her flailing hands were deliberate, practiced. There was intent behind every motion.
I lifted my head slightly, dashing a hand over my eyes and watching closely. As if she’d reached some kind of breakthrough, Dylan crouched before me and started again. This time, I saw her frantic gestures for what they were.
Fingertips grazed her breast for “please,” a circular motion that completed the bloody wheel on her chest. A hand slashing diagonally, fingers twisting for “not hurt,” a shake of her head for emphasis. Palms crossed over her heart.
My eyes widened. Sign language – clumsy and jumbled, but I could just make out the meaning: Please. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.
