by Taylor Fray
This time Zak was not so fortunate and Shamil’s blade raked his abdomen open. It was a deep cut. A human would have been dead instantly. Zak howled and staggered away.
Just as Shamil’s blade was bearing down on him again, Zak’s arms thrust out like vipers. He gripped Shamil’s wrists in each of his gigantic hands. Now it was a match of strength, Shamil trying to bring his blade down on Zak, Zak pushing it away. He could see right into Shamil’s slitted cat eyes. Their bodies trembled with supernatural exertion, but Zak began to overtake him, slowly inching the blade closer to Shamil’s own throat. A wolf’s roar and a leopards hiss tore the air and made the entire place feel as if it were a jungle.
“Shamil!” a voice thundered as if coming from the sky.
Shamil’s ears perked up, his eyes flaring wide—he dropped his blade and leapt away. Zak managed to see out of the corner of his eye an enormous sizzling fireball hurtling toward him, swallowing his field of vision until—it burst on him like a sun. It engulfed him in flame and the blast sent him flying off. His body bounced twice and came to a stop, the flames dwindling down, leaving his body with red-hot burns all over.
Gestaffos. He was hovering in the air, his wings swaying gently. He was in his own Krinos form now. An ash white man-bat. White fur covered his massive body, and a monstrous bat head perched on his shoulders.
“You fight with skill,” Gestaffos said. “You should not let that skill die in vain.”
Zak staggered up, blinding pain shooting all over his body. Patches of fur burnt off—underneath that was charred flesh. He was panting, his body quaking, on the brink of death.
“Well here we are again. The same crossroads, the same question. The same offer. Your clan mate was wise enough to take it.” Gestaffos said with a glance to Yuri’s crumpled body. “Now you need to be wise as well.”
Zak sucked air, trying to stay standing. “You controlled him,” he coughed.
“I brought out his true nature.”
“Go to hell.”
Gestaffos grinned as if amused. Then his monstrous face turned serious, almost sincere. “I always thought highly of you, Zak Skarsgard. Ever since you were young. I knew you were a valraggen, a being of destiny.”
“You betrayed… everything,” Zak managed to wheeze out.
“A dog does not understand man’s purposes, his morality, his longings, his suffering. Likewise, man cannot fathom the ways of the Black Hand, our own purposes, our own morality. In time you can come to understand. You can come to glimpse the beauty of our ways.”
“You’re a fool to stand there. I’m going to kill you…”
“It is revenge your heart longs for. But that thirst is misplaced. Consider how your clan banished you. Consider how they turned away from you, how they look down upon you like a beast. Like an animal. But it was not we that cursed you with the Rage, it was your fathers.”
“Was it… my fathers… who slew my wife?”
“It was unfortunate. But you know very well she had ventured where no humans should.” Blood pooled on Zak’s fangs. “You thirst for vengeance. So let me give it to you. Let me help you destroy the clan that forsook you.” Gestaffos raised his steel-wrapped hand. His razor fingertips began glowing with flames once more. “Or I can cast you into the flames of hell. What will it be then? Vengeance or death?”
Zak blinked hard. He could hardly stand, his body was so damaged. To one side was Shamil, his tail whipping, clumps of blood on his fur, damaged, but still willing to fight. On the other side was Yuri’s body. Twitching, barely holding on to life. He had reverted to his human form, was bare chested. And Gestaffos, his hand outstretched, was ready to bring him into his fold, or burn him at the stake.
Everything went silent. Gestaffos went on speaking, but Zak couldn’t hear his words anymore. It had been the sorcerer’s mistake, to speak of her. His vision flickered red. Every time he blinked he saw his wife’s face, dead and bleeding. Emily. The anger began to bloom in him, a single red flower amid a vast charred field. His massive shoulders heaved as he spoke. “I choose… I choose… VENGEANCE!” In an instant his fur turned from silver gray to blood red. He grew even more, into a 10-foot tall monstrosity of sheer muscle and blood lust. His fangs and claws turned to brass. And above his ears grew two brass horns like that of a ram. Had a human seen him then, it would have been a vision of hell.
The bat sorcerer’s eyes flared wide as he saw what was bearing down on him. He cast his fireball. As it hurled toward Zak, he swung his claws with such force that the air was torn and the flames scattered as they struck him. He kept lumbering forward. Gestaffos dashed away and Shamil came to the aid of his master. He swung his razor sharp blade but Zak leapt up like a giant gorilla out of the way of its cut. He landed, swinging his fist down on Shamil with backbreaking force. Two frenzied rakes of brass claws followed, and a crushing bite to the neck left Shamil a broken, bloodied carcass.
Zak turned and spotted Gestaffos still within sight. He was not fleeing anymore but had perched atop the building, his wings folded around him. His hands surrounded his face like two spiders.
A roar ripped the air as Zak charged, the ground thundering under him. Gestaffos glared, waiting for the right moment, just as Zak was about to pounce, Gestaffos flared his eyes wide. They flashed an eerie yellow, and kept glowing like flames. Zak came to a halt. The eyes. They had transfixed him, like a viper transfixes a mouse. Zak struggled against it, like a dreamer trying to wake, but he couldn’t free himself. His body wouldn’t obey when he commanded it to move. He could only manage to tremble.
Gestaffos hovered off the building, glided closer, holding Zak’s gaze with his own. “I’ve been saving this for you. Your will is too strong to be controlled, but not to be paralyzed.” Gestaffos gestured with his claw. “All this carnage, just for a beast. I’ve grown tired. You’ve broken my loyal servants. And you cling to your disgusting mortality. So be it. Have it then!”
Gestaffos stabbed his metal claw into Zak’s stomach. Zak grunted in pain. Felt hot blood pouring.
“Have it! Killing you means one less enemy to worry about. One of the greatest enemies of the Black Hand. I gave you quarter, a chance to live, because I remember how you came to me once, a warrior on a quest. I remember how you honored your oath, and spared my life once.” Gestaffos raked across Zak’s chest. Zak’s eye twitched with the cold burning pain of being torn open. Blood gushed. It was coughed up. It smattered the ground. “But now I have paid my debt to you, and you will die.” Gestaffos exhaled a long, hot breath. “All of this. Because some human woman was killed. A sad way for a warrior to die.” Gestaffos raised his metal claw.
BLAM! BLAM! Shots rang out in the air just as the metal claw was falling. Gestaffos lurched, his wings beating frantically, folding over in pain. Morgan. She was holding her gun with both hands aiming straight at him.
“What—” was all Gestaffos managed to say before Morgan pulled the trigger and shot him twice more, this time bringing him down to the ground. Four holes were burning in his body where she had shot.
The Dragon’s Breath ammo did its work, releasing fire elementals that greedily fed their fires with flesh. She said nothing. Only stared with cold eyes ready to kill.
Zak grunted as he broke free of the spell. He was hurt. Weakened. But the Rage still burned in him.
Gestaffos flailed on the ground like a wounded bird. He looked up at Morgan with such vicious anger that for a moment her resolve broke and she was afraid.
“You think… that a human can kill me?” Gestaffos said as he stood, his wounds smoking.
Morgan shook her head, reaching for courage. “Maybe not, but he can.”
Gestaffos turned just as a mass of red fur and claws was pouncing down on him. The two wounded creatures fought and wrestled. Wings flapped, talons tore into one another. In their struggle, they broke one of the electrical towers, its metal limbs snapping apart like twigs. Zak bit into his shoulder, a bite so deep it nearly cleaved Gestaffos’ arm off. He shri
eked with such high pitch that Morgan had to cover her ears. Clutching him by the throat, Zak heaved Gestaffos onto the broken electrical tower. Glurk! Gestaffos spat as he was impaled on one of the metal beams that had been snapped in two.
His face was all shock, a twitch in his eye. He stared at the long metal beam that rose out of his chest, the blood that covered every inch of it. With one last strike, Zak snapped his neck.
He turned to the rest. His blood red vision took in the sight of the strewn bodies. And then he saw Morgan. She was standing, trembling as she watched him, her gun still in hand.
He snorted, distracted for a moment by another body that was alive. It was Yuri. He had survived the electrocution. Was staggering up now. Zak looked between the two. Like a drug overtaking him, the frenzy kicked in once more and he charged at Morgan snarling spittle from his mouth like a rabid animal.
“Zak! Stop!” she screamed, to no avail. Just as his claws were about to pounce on her she used her newfound speed to rush away from him. Had she not had Shifter blood herself, she would have been crushed in his grasp.
He chased after and they looked like lion and prey for a few blinking moments. Thud. Morgan found her back against the wall of the concrete building. She was trembling in utter horror, as she saw the man she once knew turned into a mindless monster.
He lurched forward, eyes set on her. Suddenly a body came between them. It was Yuri. His eyes were free of the mind control now. He was breathing deep, still reeling from the fight.
“Zak. It’s me.” Zak stopped for a split moment. His nostrils flared as he took in Yuri’s scent. “We’re clan brothers. I know you can—argh!” Zak interrupted him with a swipe of his claws that was so powerful one could actually hear the snap of Yuri’s spine. His skull broke against the concrete wall.
Morgan recoiled. With a frantic motion she broke open the door to the building and slipped inside.
Zak roared, frustrated that his prey had snuck away from him. He reached through the doorway with his massive arm but could not fit through. His arm was inside clawing at Morgan like a cat clawing at a mouse in its nest. She backed up until she had no more space to move in.
“Zak, please!” She screamed, aiming her gun.
Zak’s response was a frustrated roar and a rake of brass claws.
“Please…” Morgan whimpered, shaking her head in disbelief.
Zak withdrew his arm. He peered inside with his muzzled head. His wet nostrils flared, kicking up dust in the room. Paper was strewn about. A rolling chair had been knocked over.
“Zak!”
He snapped his jaws at her, eyes blazing red.
She aimed. Her hand shook. One pull of the trigger and he would be blasted right between the eyes. “Zak…” She grit her teeth. Perhaps Ivalia had been right, perhaps life was fate. Perhaps he would have wanted it to end like this. He had fought against three, had given his blood, had taken revenge. He would be killed by someone that knew him, who could tell his people how he had fallen, how he had redeemed himself. Perhaps it was this fate he had been seeking after all. To die and finally have peace.
Her eyes brimmed with resolve. No. Fate could be changed. She knew it the way she felt her own breath. It was the truth.
“I’m not going to fight you.” She set down her gun. “If I don’t do this… then no one ever will.” She swallowed. “Zak, Zak of the 13 moons. You’re not a monster.” She reached out her hand to him—he snapped his jaws. His fangs clinked against one another. She inched closer. He was growling, his fangs bared. The doorway was beginning to give. Beginning to crack. Soon he would be through.
Morgan didn’t blink. “You said you’re not a man, Zak! But then who was it that mourned his wife? Who was it that could love so much that her death would drive him to this?” His eyes twitched as he seemed to cognize her words. She stepped closer. “If you’re not a man, then who rescued me? Who has been taking me to his family? For my safety? Who tried and risked his life to be cured, that he could live free?”
She knew that swimming in the far reaches of his mind was his mortal consciousness. Faint whispers of sanity still echoed in the red beast. And Morgan was beginning to summon them up. She had not been able to drive away. She had made it a few miles, but she had slammed the brakes. Even when she had the chance to leave this all behind, to save herself, she could not bring herself to abandon Zak, and now she knew why.
“If you’re not a man, then who is the man I fell in love with?” She looked at him with an affection that had no room for fear. No claw, no fang could pierce what was in her eyes, no wind could wither it, no fire could burn it, it was a vulnerability so deep it had become stronger than death.
The beast shuttered. It blinked hard. Confused. Memories, human memories came flashing in Zak’s mind. The season’s first snow falling on the halls of Grey Home. Running through the forest as a child. Seeing Emily walk down the aisle at their marriage. Watching her as she read by the lamplight in some unknown year of their life. Seeing Morgan for the first time in the forest. Beholding her beauty as she swam in the lake, in some magic kingdom they had visited in a dream.
He staggered back. The world spinning. The beast began crumpling. The red fur began receding. His gorged body began shriveling. He felt every ounce of energy drained from him and he fell.
A man lay at the doorway now. He was face down, bloodied and gashed, and he had no fight left in him.
16
Morgan slid down the wall until she sat on the ground. It was over. It was finally over. But at what price? She took a breath, stood and ran to the body that was strewn at the doorway.
“Zak!” She reached him and froze for a moment not knowing how to respond, what to do about his mangled body. She knelt down, touched his neck. He had a pulse. Still, he seemed to be just hanging on.
“Zak we need to get out of here.” He gazed at her. Began to sit up. She stood with him.
“Morgan. Morgan, God, I almost…” He couldn’t finish. He crumpled and he buried his face against her middle. She could feel him shaking. “You weren’t supposed to come back. You promised. You were so close to…”
“We’re alright,” she consoled him. “We’re alright now. It’s all over.”
Zak gazed up at her, remorse in his eyes. He shook his head, glanced over to Yuri’s body. “I knew him… When I was growing up. I looked up to him.”
“You couldn’t help it. It wasn’t you that did that.”
Zak glanced to Shamil’s broken body, now a human one. Morgan touched Zak’s arm. It somehow comforted her to hold him. Then her eyes went wide: the broken electrical tower. She saw the piece of steel where Gestaffos had been impaled. But there was nothing there, nothing save for the red smear on the sharp metal beam.
She scanned all around, adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Zak, where is he?”
“I’m right here, woman.” The voice that answered was frail, but vicious as ever.
Morgan turned to see a ravaged Gestaffos staggering through the rubble of the tower. He was in his human form again. His mane of white hair was soaked in blood and the gaping hole in his chest was bad enough that you could see right through it. He had cuts and bruises everywhere, most of his body charred. One of his arms dangled from his body, barely connected to it. And yet still, by some necromantic power he stood, and smiled.
“Don’t worry, child. You two have bested me.” He shambled forward like a skeleton. Zak observed him, gritting his teeth but not having the strength for another fight.
Morgan searched frantically for her gun. She had dropped it in the chaos. She picked it up off the ground.
“Why trouble yourself? I’m already dead. I would not dream of hurting Zak any longer after that display of—” he coughed blood in clumps, “that display of heroism.”
Morgan aimed, pulled the trigger. BLAM! A burning round buried itself in the sorcerer’s abdomen. She pulled the trigger again. Click—she was out of rounds. Gestaffos seemed too far gone to even feel pain anymore
. Smoke rose from where the round had pierced him. “But before I go, Zak, I’ll leave you with this gift. The gift of seeing another woman of yours die!”
Morgan flung the gun away. Enough. She was going to tear him apart with her bare hands. She charged.
“Morgan, no!”
Before she could react, Gestaffos opened his mouth wide. It was as if his insides were burning—a fire-colored energy was pulsing in his throat. He spit out what seemed to be a letter, an arcane rune made of pure energy the color of hot lava. The letter fluttered through the air like a wasp. It spun, circled, and landed on Morgan’s neck.
“Argh!” Her skin literally sizzled as the rune burned into her. She fell to her knees in anguish, and held her neck like she had been bitten by a viper.
“Morgan!” Zak yelled as he limped to her.
“Sleep well, sweet princess. I’ll see you soon,” Gestaffos hissed, “in the land of the dead.” Gestaffos’ voice trailed off as the fire he had summoned inside himself began consuming him. His flesh burst into flame until every last part of him turned to ash.
Zak looked on, the fire lighting his face yellow, then he turned to Morgan.
She immediately noticed a desperate look in his eyes.
“What is it? What did he do?” she asked, unable to see her own neck, but seeing a faint light emanating from it. Zak pulled her hand, pulled her hair off her neck to take a look. She grimaced at its sting. A black rune was now on her neck, like a tattoo that had been branded into her skin.
Zak was speechless for a long moment, his lip quivering. Then he looked around at the carnage. “We have to go,” he grunted through the pain as he stood.
17
A death rune. That’s what it was. It had begun taking its effect, turning her veins the color of rotting plums, collapsing her into a fever of blinding pain.
The muscle car’s engine roaring, they barreled down the road. Blood was still soaking through Zak’s jacket. The engine was giving everything it could. He didn’t doubt that police, firemen, would all swarm the area soon, if they hadn’t already.