No Turning Back
Page 35
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Smoke crawls sluggishly across the remains of what had been the busiest port in Gernsey. It lies in ruins, mere slivers of wood and brick in the wake of the three-day battle. They walk up to the last Gontozenel, the general of the squad of fifteen aged warriors. The woman lies half-buried in the rubble, clinging to consciousness through sheer hate.
"Bastard," she hisses at Them. "You are nothing but a Bastard, the unnatural melding of" she spits something unintelligible "that should never have been permitted! The Tesselëans were cursed fools to make you possible! To make either of you possible!" Her gaze shifts slightly as she looked at the Hunter.
"You hate them, don't you? Don't you? They stole you away from your kind, warped your body and mind, forcing you to do their bidding! You hate the killing, don't you, the consumption of unnatural food? Our Power sickens you, yet you cannot help but crave it! Hate them for what they did to you, for what you still have to do for them, the cowards!"
They crouch down next to her, placing another receptacle against her head. She shudders as it siphons off more of her essence. It fills too quickly, yet the Gontozenel is still strong. But there are no fresh hosts available; this, the fifth host in three days, is nearly dead, and the Gontozenel is just weak enough that it cannot force an escape.
"No," she whimpers angrily. "I will not be beaten! I will not go back, become an infant again! I have worked too hard!"
They do not speak as they place another ball against her head. Tears leak from the host's eyes.
"Daoin," she whispers. "Daoin, I have failed you. I have failed. Failed, failed. Ah!" Another filled ball returns to Their bandoleer. Another empty ball, the last They have, rises to her head.
"But at least here is one less of them!" she hisses with mad glee.
Their eyes flash as anger wells up inside Them. Rage and grief bring a snarl to Their lips as They drop the half-filled ball and rip into the prey.