Feast

by Merrie Destefano

  I walked toward the door, felt Ross retreating inside himself, building walls and digging trenches, laying out an assortment of grenades, painting his skin in camouflage black and green.

  “She’s lying,” Ross said.

  I paused at the door, laid one hand on the wood, listened for the vibrations that were always present, knowing there was a secret message between her words.

  “We’re blood cousins.” Her siren voice called to me, sweet and tempting. “But you don’t have to open the door if you don’t want to—”

  The drumming of knuckle against wood continued, beating hypnotic and pure. I could feel myself being lulled into an enchantment, but suddenly I didn’t care. I wanted to believe; I knew that even now her face had shifted. The voice, the face. It couldn’t be, but I felt that it might be and that was almost enough.

  Lily, my dead wife, was on the other side of the door.

  “No, Ash, don’t!” Ross said. “Don’t let her in—”

  But the pain and the longing fell on my shoulders, sparks and the fragrance of a meadow at dawn. It might be Lily, risen from the dead, back from the Land of Dreams.

  One hand on the doorknob.

  I turned and pulled.

  Hoping.

  Chapter 29

  Chameleon Skin

  Thane:

  The back door opened, just far enough for River and me to slip through. Wearing the chameleon skin of fog and bark, we dashed away from the Driscoll mansion, both of us knowing that we wouldn’t have much time. At best, Sienna would be able to distract Ash for a few minutes. Hopefully, that would be long enough for us to sneak back into the woods and dispose of the body.

  “You should have done this last night,” I snarled as we circled around the side of the house. “Before you met me at the edge of the forest.”

  “Hindsight and wishes don’t bring dinner,” River answered, his mood sullen.

  I kept low to the ground, running rather than flying, changing my body into that of a mottled gray fox. River loped at my side, now wearing the skin of a ring-tailed cat. As soon as we had both crossed the road and passed the crowd of teenage boys, we made a patchwork quilt of our animal bodies, adding wings and horns and claws. Then we flew through the wood.

  That’s when the scent grew stronger—the stench of that human carcass blooming clear and ripe. It was nearby, sure enough, just a little bit farther.

  We zipped through the forest, knowing that what we sought was up ahead, just around the next bend. I dropped my animal skin as I flew, replaced it with the garments of home. Gray flesh, wings of taut vellum membrane stretched wide.

  Then I cast a Veil—knit from years of study and training, not a haphazard, shapeless creation like those made by the Blackmoors. My side of the family, the Underwoods, were the true craftsmen. We might not have been as good as the Blackmoors at casting enchantments, but we far exceeded them when it came to hammering Veils.

  Before long, my handiwork glittered around us, strong and sturdy enough to provide shelter and privacy for what we had to do next.

  Chapter 30

  Monsters

  Maddie:

  The fog swept closer, the trees towered overhead and the forest filled with menacing shadows. Somewhere in the distance a bird took flight and my stomach wrenched at the unexpected sound. I fought a scream, pressed a knuckled fist to my mouth. With a quick glance, I scanned the surrounding area, checking to see if there was anyone else around.

  Like whoever had killed the man who now lay on the ground.

  The woods were empty, so I switched on my video, then took a cautious step closer to the body, leaning down to pick up a long stick with my free hand. Using the stick, I tapped the legs, checking to see if maybe, hopefully, the person lying on the ground was just asleep. He didn’t move. With a flick of my wrist, I started brushing the leaves away, uncovering the body.

  I saw two legs and a torso.

  Strange.

  The body looked flat. Like all the life had somehow been drained out. I’d never seen anything like it. And there—at the neck—were two bloody puncture wounds, some sort of bite.

  It hit me then, the whiff of death, the realization that this truly was a dead body.

  My stomach lurched and I turned aside and retched.

  Then I wiped my mouth and lifted my head.

  At that moment, a rushing wind surged through the forest, but it didn’t move the branches or stir the leaves. I dropped the stick and stepped away from the body. Whatever this noise was, it was heading straight for me, getting louder, increasing in pitch. I spun on my heel, headed back toward the cabin and that was when I saw it—an almost invisible cloud of fog and bark, flying toward me through the trees. It grew blacker and more menacing as it approached—a thick gloom that blocked out the sun, turning the forest mists into thunderclouds.

  Recognizable shapes began to emerge from the clouds: massive wings that soared to the sky, charcoal shadows that melted and turned into bodies, backs and chests covered with gray skin and leathery muscles, wild faces with sharp features and feral eyes and sharp, crooked teeth.

  I screamed.

  Then I ran as fast as I could, feet slipping on leaves, hands grasping at branches, all the while lunging forward.

  “Help!” I screamed again.

  But they were coming at me from two directions. I was surrounded by a heavy darkness that obscured everything, overshadowing both sky and earth.

  Monsters.

  Two of them.

  I wasn’t going to get away.

  I couldn’t see past the reach of my own arms. Still I ran, feet pounding dirt, faster and faster. My legs grew weary and my chest ached, but the landscape around me never changed.

  I wasn’t moving.

  Meanwhile, the shadowy creatures pressed closer. I tried to scream, but this time I couldn’t. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even cry out.

  It was just like a nightmare.

  Whatever these monsters were, they had me pinned in; they now blocked off the path back to the cabin and the trail that led up to the rocky cliffs.

  Let me go, you’re not real, you can’t be—

  As soon as I thought that, the creatures suddenly fluttered and a white hole shattered through their black skin. For a moment, I surged forward, felt my feet gain purchase on the wood-chip trail and I spun a foot further away. The darkness around me faded, a small hole appeared right in front of me—just large enough for me to crawl through. I dropped to my knees and I scurried toward it.

  Just then, one of the beasts snapped forward, leaped upon me with a snarl, teeth glittering. I fought him, beat fists against his chest, kicked against his legs. All the while, I could sense him sifting through my thoughts, as if reading my mind. Then I saw his eyes flash, bright and yellow, and I knew exactly what he was doing.

  He was trying to fashion a nightmare from my secret fears.

  “No!” I growled, baring my teeth.

  They are my dreams, my visions, my hopes; not one of them belongs to you, nor ever shall. I will fight with all I have within me—

  “Nay, you will not escape me, my love,” the beast said.

  He pushed me to the ground with a strong hand and then followed with a feathery incantation of his own, though I noticed that his words and chant were spoken too quickly and the rhythm wasn’t quite right. I knew then that he didn’t have the strength for this kind of battle.

  Words were my kingdom, not his. I would find a way to break through his poetry, write my own song and spit the words in his face.

  But even as I thought that I could feel myself growing sleepy.

  Chapter 31

  Words of Warning

  Ash:

  Sunlight cascaded through the windows, dampened only by velvet panels. The golden-white light set dust motes spinning about me, made me feel as if I had been trapped in one of my own enchantments. I swung the door to my suite open, all reason gone, all memory of the past and the future gone. All that mattered was this m
oment. Lily could be on the other side of the door. Somewhere, on the edge of the human universe, Ross talked and pleaded with me, spoke words of warning. But it was a foreign language.

  Lily could be here. Miracles do happen. Dreams do come true.

  Shadows from the hallway spilled into the room, a Darkling female stood on the threshold. Beautiful as a handful of starlight, she was almost too bright to look upon. I couldn’t see her features clearly.

  “Ash. Let me in.” It was her voice.

  Lily.

  “No!” Ross yelled. Ross, my one human friend.

  But humans were the enemy, the spoils of conquest, the fields ripe for harvest. No need to listen to the faithful pet. Not now.

  I reached out a hand, ready to pull my wife closer, to bring her into the room and invite her inside. She leaned toward me, eager.

  That was when I knew. Her scent was wrong.

  It wasn’t her. The dead don’t come back. They stay in the cold grave, turn into stardust, blow away on the wind. They vanish into the unknown, the place of the forever gone and forever mourned.

  I grabbed on to her flesh, this not-Lily creature and dug my claws deep into her neck, pressing so hard that her blood started to flow. She screamed, her visage melted; she fought and tried to get away, tried to make her flesh burn mine, flames erupting where my hand had reached across the threshold and into the hallway. My fangs grew and I wanted to lunge out, to bite her, to rip her arm from her body.

  Imposter. Evil. Beast.

  Then her disguise fell away.

  Sienna screamed again, pleading with me to release her. I growled, considered tightening my grip on her throat until all life vanished, until she joined my dead wife.

  “Give Lily a message for me,” I said, my words like fire, ready to kill.

  “Life—and—limb.” Her words came out one at a time in a wet, choking whisper. Sienna begged for her life, tried to remind me of our code, to never kill, not human and not Darkling.

  “Must preserve life. Must,” she said.

  “Ash! Let her go! Listen—” Ross was at the window, staring toward the forest.

  Just then a woman’s scream echoed from the woods, followed by the flapping of great wings and the folding of reality. And after it came another sound, like all the rules in the world were being broken at once, breaking branches, howling wind.

  One of my humans was being hunted.

  I tossed my cousin to the ground, where she lay gasping, one of her hands attempting to stop the flow of blood from her neck. With a snarl, I dropped my human skin and folded reality, then swept across the room to the window and threw it open. In an instant, I was flying toward the forest—past the human boys who had gathered by the side of the road—toward the throbbing black hole where a Darkling fought against a human.

  Somewhere in the forest deep, shrouded in murky fog.

  Another human was being harvested. And this time I knew who was to blame. ’Twas none other than my own dear cousins, Thane and River.

  I flashed my wings wide, tensed my muscles, blended the color of my skin to match the mottled blue-and-gray sky. Leaning into the wind, I scanned the wood for movement. I saw something then, a haze that hung over a section of the wood like a misshapen bubble—a Veil of cloud. I measured the beginning and the end of the anomaly, knowing that once I got closer it would be near impossible to see the sharp edges.

  Then I called my sister, Sage, to join me in the hunt.

  Like an electric shock, my cry sparked through the trees, snapped and buzzed and sang. I felt it strike her in the center of her forehead.

  Come!

  Take the northern edge of the Veil, then move upstream.

  I heard the whisper of her wings as she answered, taking flight almost instantly.

  That was when I reached the Veil, felt it brush against my skin like the ruffling of feathers. I hovered at the top of the forest, until I got my bearings, then sank to the ground, watching as the treetops gave way to thick trunks and finally to a mass of ferns and bramble bushes. Meanwhile, heavy fog twined through the wood, tendrils erasing and changing the landscape as they drifted past.

  I dared not believe what I saw.

  Instead, I battled against this foul magic with song—an Evenquest sonnet, words that overlapped one another, fourteen lines of iambic pentameter that rang strong as a blade. My enchantment fought the Veil, one form of magic against another, until at last, the false landscape began to fade. Then I heard another song echo through the thicket, one with sweet, high notes, cadence strong as a warrior’s drum. It came from the creek, somewhere upstream.

  Sage.

  Together we would break through.

  The Veil hung between the trees like razor wire now, biting my flesh. Still, I continued to sing, like a man leaning into a blizzard, hunching my shoulders, squinting my eyes, a low chant warming my chest as I walked with my head tucked down. I ignored the many cuts that slivered my flesh, my poems raising the temperature, making the earth hiss. With a lungful of damp air, I lifted my voice, louder and then louder still.

  I wasn’t going to give up, no matter how long it took me to break through. For I knew now that it was Maddie who had been captured in my cousin’s Veil. I heard her voice slip through as she fought Thane, verse against verse. Then the clouds rolled thick and heavy across the path.

  And after that, no more sounds escaped.

  Chapter 32

  Gnarled Fingers

  Thane:

  Fog drifted around us, a thick, black haze with gnarled fingers. It teased the trees and blocked out blue sky, turned the forest into a nightmarish vista. She fought me, this woman named Maddie that I had followed through the wood only last night, and as she did, I could see why my cousin had been so intrigued by her. Bits of poems and snippets of stories dripped from her lips, sweet as honey wine, each one of them more lovely than the one before. Meanwhile, my concentration was failing. This human woman was slicing through my Veil and confusing me with her own magic incantations. Then with a mere whisper of words, she knocked me on my back, drove the wind from my lungs, her poem strong as a warrior’s blow.

  I rolled away from her and she bounded to her feet, ready to run away.

  “No!” I bellowed, then I leaped, tackled her and drove her to the ground again. River chanted at my side the whole while, holding the Veil fast, for my strength was waning. “Sleep, my love, rest now,” I said, my voice soft and soothing.

  Her limbs relaxed and her eyelids fluttered.

  I slid one arm beneath her neck, pulled her to my chest. This human was not meant for a quick glutted death; she carried the dreams of a lifetime and should be kept in a cage, given robes of velvet. She could keep an entire village alive with her dreams.

  With a swipe of rough tongue against her forearm, I claimed her with my mark.

  Promising death to any who took her from this moment on.

  Then I sang to her, the words so quick that she couldn’t understand them, and I began to sift through her dreams, rooting about like a child through a chest of toys. Webbed fingers spread wide, yellow claws gleaming, I stirred them and watched: First I saw an image of her son falling in love; then another of her grandchildren playing in the yard; then a vision of someone standing beside her—a man, her true love, though his features were masked in shadow.

  And finally, I saw a picture of her dog, Samwise. He was running through the house, chasing a black-winged beast, another Darkling, and suddenly, in an instant, he changed, grew until he was as large as the room itself with wings of his own—

  ’Twas a werebeast she was dreaming about.

  Terrified, I sat back on my haunches. No, couldn’t be real.

  Then, somehow, Maddie found the magic beat that sang in the silent spaces between the letters. She rose up from the ground and forced words to the surface in one final scream.

  “Samwise!” she shouted. “Come!”

  River and I clamped our hands over her mouth, pushed her back to the ground
, but we both knew that it was already too late. We could feel it. Reality was shifting, something horrid was being summoned by this human, something we couldn’t stop.

  A shiver raced over me and I heard it beginning; far away a dog pawed frantically at a front door, until finally, someone opened it. But the door swung open too fast and the dog slipped away.

  Now it was running. I could hear it, galloping through the forest toward me, blood pumping through its body. New blood with a new purpose soared through the dog’s limbs like fire, tangled through every organ and changed the beast with every beat of its heart. It was running faster than ever before; it was bigger than the sky and darker than the night, a shadow with teeth and claws, taller than the trees—

  “The woman has summoned a werebeast,” I said, astonished and afraid.

  “Run!” River cried and he spread his wings.

  At that moment I saw Cousin Sage, rising up out of the river, one hand raised, ready to cast an enchantment. But even she was too late.

  For the ground thundered and the valley echoed with an unholy growl. A mythic beast was charging up the trail, shredding the Veil that should have protected us. I could hear the Veil ripping, the sound shocking through the fog. A werebeast would be here in a moment and the monster would have the power to kill all three of us with a single blow.

  Chapter 33

  Wild Thundering

  Thane:

  The trees cracked and thrashed, branches were breaking and the beast was coming toward us on the trail. I was still holding Maddie in my arms when the werebeast appeared, towering above the treetops, part dog, part monster; it skidded to a halt beside me, ripped down two fifty-foot pines with its front paws. Before I could move, it swung a meaty paw and knocked my brother on the chin, sent him bleeding and tumbling into the bramble.

  It glared down at me, jaws spread wide, revealing a guillotine of teeth.

  I held Maddie tighter, thought about flying away. It would take but a moment to soar above this beast, though carrying her would surely slow me down.