The Witch's Daughter - Laken Cane Page 0,19
his face a white mask of doom.
Something was wrong.
Something was always wrong.
Chapter Twelve
She leapt up, ignoring the stiff soreness of her body.
“What is it?” she said, looking wildly around for Roma. For Blue and Nadaline.
But no one was there.
“Where’s Roma?”
“I sent her to Carnage to check on Blue and Nadaline. They should’ve been back by now.”
Somehow, morning had crept up on her as she’d slept, and an already hot sun baked the ground.
“We’ll have to—”
“Quiet,” Z hissed, holding up a finger. “Don’t move.”
“The fuck is it?” Despite herself, a thrill of fear ran through her body. She wiped cold sweat from her forehead, breathing shallowly. It hurt her lungs when she took a deep breath. “The fuck?”
Not the crawlers. Please God, not the crawlers.
“You still have your monster?”
She shot out her claws and dropped her fangs. “Yeah.”
“You’re going to need it.”
“Z. What is it?”
He turned to look at her, but his eyes were distant.
She didn’t like that distance even a little bit.
“Crawlers,” he murmured. “They’re near. They’ve already scented us.” He paused, frowning. “What do they want?”
She had a bad, bad feeling they wanted her.
“Dammit.” She started trembling. Hard. She hated being scared more than she hated anything.
But she was.
She was so damn scared.
And she was sick. Sick made her weaker.
Vulnerable to the motherfucking crawlers.
“If I’m killed and you’re taken,” Z said, “slice into your throat with those claws as deeply as you can before you lose consciousness. They’ll leave you be if they think you’re dead.” His gaze softened. “Do what you have to do, sweet thing.”
“I always do, baby.” But her voice shook.
She heard them.
There was no worse horror than the sounds the crawlers made.
She and Z were already surrounded. The crawlers swarmed over the hard, sunbaked earth like giant, lethal, noxious crabs, clicking and screaming and hungry.
Those monsters were extremely skinny, pale, and hairless, only five feet tall when they stood, with wide spaced, glassy eyes that protruded from bumpy, oozing faces.
They could tear and strip flesh easily with their sharp teeth, teeth discolored with the stains of old blood and encased in wet, cavernous mouths.
They ran on all fours and slightly sideways, clicking hard, milky claws that were short but razor-edged.
Releasing terror from their pores, sending it wafting into the air to attach to their prey, they were enough to cause most people to freeze in fear and simply wait for the pain to begin.
Rune moaned.
“Steady, Rune,” Z said, his voice calm. “They crave your fear. We’ve got this.”
I have to protect Z.
Help me, monster. Help me out, you little bastard.
She threw back her head and screamed, then sliced the first crawler who reached her into ribbons of bloody meat.
After that, there was only killing.
Her monster was helping her the fuck out.
The crawlers—part monster, part magic—fought with the single-mindedness with which they’d been created.
They slung slime at her face—burning, acidic slime—and long strings of bloody saliva dripped from their open jaws. They were faster than Rune in her compromised condition, and deadlier than her monster.
And there were dozens of them.
Dozens of them against her and Z.
Z’s fight was more lethal than it’d ever been. He fought stronger, faster, smarter. He anticipated where each blow would land, where each claw would slice, where each sharp fang would bite.
He danced away, escaping narrowly each lethal strike, and returned the near misses with exacting killing blows of his own.
The numbers of crawlers dwindled.
But only for a moment.
She and Z fought back to back, protecting each other as they put down the enemy.
The crawlers seemed to have no sense of fear or mortality or fight to survive. Blood and fear fed them, and they were hungry.
Just hungry.
Like the zombies of Rune’s world only a thousand times stronger, a thousand times more deadly.
So hungry.
She moaned again, even as adrenaline flooded her sick body, lending her monster a little extra energy.
It wasn’t enough.
“Z,” she cried. “I’m not enough.”
He was going to die. Again.
She couldn’t save him.
They’d make her watch as they ate him, as, perhaps, they turned him. Then he’d eat her.
Stop it, Rune. Get a grip and fight for him.
But she’d need to be something more. Something better. Something fucking bigger.
The sickness wouldn’t even let her be her.
But somehow, she did become more.
She had no other choice.
The crawlers swarmed, squealing like frenzied pigs about to be slaughtered, climbing over the dead bodies of their brethren as they struggled to get closer to Rune and Z.
Rune and Z kept cutting them down.
Cut, spin, cut, spin.
Kill, kill, kill.
She couldn’t let them take Z.
Would