Page 33 of Fanged Secrets
The realization kindled something inside of me, a small flicker of something I couldn’t quite name. My mind wandered back to a moonlit garden, hovering in the memory for a brief moment.
And still, I sat petrified, muscles seizing as I struggled to make the connection between the monster I saw and the woman in front of me. But Dylan was wounded, just like the monster had been, her clothes tattered, and her eyes – not just bloodshot, but a piercing crimson down to the iris. Her canines protruded over her bottom lip, slowly retracting back to their former size.
The demonic creature with wings of a bat, and the woman in front of me were one and the same. She had killed that scaled being before my eyes, tore it to pieces. The evidence was right there on her hands. The same hands that were signing words of peace and reassurance.
Dylan had been practicing for my sake. The thought struck a chord in my fluttering heart.
But it could not erase the monster she had become. Two versions of Dylan existed in my mind, the bloodthirsty beast that brandished claws like knives, and the shadowy wraith with a soft spot for flowers. Stitched together they were a terrifying amalgamation, a Frankenstein creature that I could not make sense of.
I couldn’t trust her, couldn’t bring myself to meet her tarnished eyes. She was a monster, and those claws would be coming for me next. My heart pounded against the cage of my ribs and my head screamed for me torun, run, run, run, run.
But her clumsy, heartfelt attempt at sign language made me pause. Those talons could carve up anything that got in her way, but those fingers had also trailed lines of fire across my body without breaking me in the process. They were moving now, earnestly, conveying a desperate message in a language I understood.
By then, Dylan was close enough to touch, crouching before me like she was trying to make herself smaller. I leaned away, shaking uncontrollably, as she reached for me. Dylan flinched and backed up a little, pleading with those haunting red eyes and signing with her hands.
“Not safe,” she said with a thumb under her chin, crossing her wrists and pulling them apart again. Her finger shook slightly and her eyes traveled past me to the dingy warehouse in the distance. Those eyes were no longer a saturated red. The crimson hue was slowly draining from her irises, fading to a charcoal black like the night sky.
She gestured “go” with a sweeping motion, and “explain” by moving her hands back and forth. The promise was a firm crossing of her hands over her heart again. Dylan reached out a quivering hand and I fought the urge to recoil from her touch.
The message was clear enough: It’s not safe out here. We need to go. I’ll explain everything. I promise.
The true danger was right in front of me, in the form of a disheveled, coal-eyed woman. But her weary eyes kept fixating on the building in the distance. Whatever that scaled creature was, wherever it had come from, there could be more. I stared at Dylan’s outstretched hand, weighing up my dismal options.
Rather the devil you know than the devil you don’t.
Slowly, hesitantly, I took her hand, allowing her to pull me to my feet. The blood on her fingers was sticky like treacle, melding our hands together in a bloody bind. I felt as though Iwas outside of my body, suddenly numb as if shutting out my emotions was the only suitable survival mechanism.
Once I was up, I ripped my hand away, but this time I didn’t run. I knew deep down that I was terrified, but I just couldn’t feel it.
We both looked somberly at the wrecked car, and I saw Dylan sigh when she spotted her phone lying smashed up on the asphalt. After rummaging around in the battered vehicle, she found my cell in much the same state. She hauled a backpack out from somewhere behind the seat and slung it over her shoulder. I stood listlessly on the sideline, glazing over the wreckage and staring at nothing in particular. Anything to avoid looking at the scaled corpse growing cold at my feet.
Dylan caught my eye, gingerly stepping around the bloodied mound, and signed that we’d have to walk. With my jaw slack, I nodded ever so slightly and waited for her to move first.
Dylan wrapped her arms around herself and watched me for a moment with a pained expression on her dirt-streaked face. When I stared back mutely, she dropped her gaze and turned away.
She started walking, and I followed some distance behind. The empty road stretched ahead and behind us, flanked by desolate fields. We were far from anything or anyone who could help.
As we walked, tattered thoughts fluttered in my empty head like torn bits of paper. I wondered if it was time to cut my losses and run, leave it all behind – my father and my monstrous wife too. But with our ride smashed and no cellphones, the only choice was to keep walking.
Safety, and freedom, were a very long way away.
Chapter 19
Dylan
The motel stuck out like a candy-colored thumb against the dreary surroundings. A faded relic from a time before the highway sliced through the curving country roads, it looked like it had been plucked from a postcard. The contrast was near surreal and I wondered if the slashes from the dragon shifter’s claws had driven me to delirium.
But we had been walking for what felt like hours. Real or not, it was a welcome respite from the desolate fields.
We stopped a few feet from the doors and I blew out a breath, relief and apprehension splitting me down the middle. I glanced over at Amara who was looking off into the distance, her glassy eyes unfocused like she was a million miles away. Her face was streaked with dirt, blood drying to rust on her brow. She rubbed at her nose and sniffed quietly. Her gaze dropped to her hands as she twisted the ring on her finger.
She was in shock, and that was understandable. Her wife, who had never been particularly pleasant to begin with, had turnedout to be a monster. I wanted to comfort her, to put a hand on her shoulder and reassure her that everything would be okay, but I held myself back. Any touch from me would likely not be well received.
Sucking in a breath, I caught her attention with a wave of my hand.
"Well, it's better than nothing." I forced a lopsided smile that felt more like a grimace when it settled on my face.
Amara turned her head slightly, giving me a look that was more vacant than anything else, and followed me as I climbed the creaking stairs and threw open the door. The bell above my head chimed as we entered, the cheerful sound severely out of place given the circumstances.
