by Kyle Olson
“My, my. So defensive! Perhaps,” Tess said, cocking her head, “He was more than a peon?”
Ifon said nothing, which gave her all the answer she needed—and all the answer she wanted. It’d never crossed her mind that the crocodile could have been anything other than a minion, ordered about to do the work Ifon couldn’t be bothered with.
How good it felt!
“Gakaka! He was! Shame, then, that he’s gone missing. Whatever could have happened to him?”
“Cunt! Enough of your games! You will answer me!”
“Or else what?”
In the span of moments, Sophia had drawn the conclusion that she was not in the best position for her well-being and beat a hasty retreat. Tess brought her rifle in line with the target, Ifon shred his second set of clothes that day in his transformation and he leapt, rocketing with enough force his hind-paws left ruts in the new asphalt.
Tess appreciated how he had the decency to make himself an easy target. Spent casings danced from her weapon, the magazine emptied before the first brass clinked to the ground. Ifon bellowed in rage and pain, two rounds piercing his skull and the rest dotting his neck and body with crimson blooms.
He crashed across the rooftop like a slab of meat. Legs scrabbled underneath him, but two large-caliber rounds through his brain had crossed a significant number of wires, shorting them out. Tess was fast to dump the dry magazine, slam in a fresh one, and kept pulling the trigger.
Ifon squealed and squirmed, paffs of blood and fur sprayed into the air and across the flat-top building.
For all the damage she was doing, for all the joy it brought her to watch the one who’d given the order writhe and jerk every time hot lead pierced flesh and bone, she knew it was little more than a delaying tactic. She had three more loaded magazines within reach, and once those were gone, she’d have to spend time to reload. Time she didn’t have. Even if Sophia scooped up the first empty magazine and worked at a feverish pace to reload, they still didn’t have time.
To put Ifon down for good, she’d need more ammo than was immediately available to her. Still she fired, savoring every pull like the choicest of steaks.
A minute was all it took to run out.
Sophia had wisely elected to book it down the rooftop stairs to somewhere else, rather than make a futile attempt to replenish the empty magazines. It was just Tess and Ifon, wriggling like some deranged thing.
Sadly, the writhing did not last as long as she’d hoped. How she longed to torment him, play with him, but it was not to be. She had to end it before it had a chance to begin. As Ifon had done, she morphed into a four-legged jackal, clad in fur of the darkest night.
Air shimmered. The tar on the rooftop started to ooze.
A pillar of fire erupted around Ifon, engulfing him, a raging manifestation of her will.
Oh how he howled, like a beaten dog—but that was the problem. He didn’t stop.
No, why would he? Not from that. Even Phytos had required so much more. She had to quit fucking around and get to it.
Tess backflipped off the roof. At the apex of her leap, the pillar doubled, tripled, and quadrupled in size. The inferno liquefied stone and steel, boring straight down through the building and ground.
She could no longer hear the howls over the roar of the flames.
When she landed, she noted Sophia was in a full-on, four-legged sprint—she’d already managed to cover a respectable amount of ground, a tiny figure against the horizon.
Smart girl.
But, she couldn’t divert her attention for long.
The maelstrom had eaten away at the ground, softening the foundation. In a dull rumble the building collapsed into the sinkhole, masonry adding to the molten earth. She tip-tapped on padded feet, commanding the flames onward. Hotter, fiercer.
Die. Die die die die die die!
Asphalt some twenty feet from the epicenter softened and flowed.
Windows two blocks away shattered and fresh paint bubbled.
The earth shook. Clouds overhead had parted, evaporated to nothing as the pillar reached for the heavens.
Dark thrill set her heart into a race.
Could it be this easy? Was he so reckless? A match for Sejit! Gakakaka! Is… she so powerless?!
What was I so afraid of?!
She howled and yipped in delight, a playful puppy cavorting about in front of a cozy fire.
Just one thing left to do. One final method to seal his fate and his end. A call to the void, her other self.
The abyss pierced the veil of flames and into Ifon’s soul, but…
Where fear and pain and terror should have left mind and spirit scattered and defenseless, an explosion of racing colors to pick and choose from at her leisure, babes to be consumed as she wished, his being remained intact. Whole. The gamut of emotions were all there in perfect coherence, supporting one another with the reds of anger and wrath, serving as the solid, poised backbone upon which all the others fastened themselves.
Even Sejit, back then, had allowed her wrath to dominate, let it rampage with reckless abandon and scatter all her aspects. It’d been an easy mark.
There were no stray picks for the Jackal of the Void to consume. No sheep about, alone and hapless. The herd was banded together. She circled round and round, but could find no weakness, no openings. Nips and bites at the green of envy and blue of pride yielded only a stab to the nose from red and orange. A perfect formation, shields up and spears ready to impale any who would dare attack.
No!
Lost in her joy, then lost in despair, she failed to notice a shift in the fire. A subtle cooling.
A star of ice detonated.
In an instant the pillar blew out like a candle and the world was covered in glittering frost. Even the tips of Tess’ ears had been snap-frozen.
Where a lump of carbon adrift a sea of lava should have been, there stood a haggard form, blackened and seared beyond recognition—but in each moment, ash and char fell away to reveal fresh fur and flesh. A smattering of such moments passed, bringing forth the form of an unsullied white wolf, though his footing was unsure and his breathing ragged.
Tess refocused from her shock, attempting to ignite the ground underneath the wolf’s feet once more.
All the ground did was steam and puff. Waves of heat dispersed frost, only for the same area to ice over once again, repeating in an undulating wave. He’d learned to counter her.
Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck
The wolf stumbled towards her, lips peeled back in a snarl. With each step he stumbled less.
She darted back, breaking into a full-on run towards the city. All it took was a handful of strides for Ifon to reach his.
The chase was on.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
If there had been a grandfather clock in the room, its pendulum would’ve swung a handful of times in the span that lapsed since Sejit fell to her knees.
The lion within her railed against the cage of reason trapping it, swiping and bashing and snarling. When brute strength would not work, it set to pacing, never taking its eye off Sejit.
Set me loose. We can end this.
An offer made all the more tempting by her struggle to regain her footing.
There she was, knees bent, for what? All the pain and misery and humiliation, for what? Uncage the beast and none could stand against her.
So what if the world discovers us? Isn’t it time for them to remember?
Not yet. I will not throw it all away. Not while he still lives!
Conviction and force of will brought her to her feet.
Daontys had yet to recover. Hate-fueled, shaky eyes fixated on her. He still wore his human guise and tattered clothing. Sejit advanced, in a handful of strides her full strength had returned. She lorded over the stricken Daontys, glaring as she extracted Mun’skit from the wall. Daontys urged himself up, but only succeeded in collapsing onto a side.
Sejit held her polearm overhead, ready to end it.
Ye
t, for all her anger, she stayed the blow. The lion slammed the bars.
What do you wait for?!
He may have insulted her, plotted against her, but he was still powerful. Useful. His connections with Erton were something that would take her another lifetime, another name and face to achieve. And she had made a vow with Tess. Duty and reason pushed down the rage and gave clarity.
“This is over,” she said, her partially-lion throat grumbling, “You have lost. Call off your machinations and serve me.”
“Haha! Serve you?!” Daontys squawked, supporting himself upright on an arm, “The lowly lion would ask the soaring falcon to serve? Preposterous!”
“Lowly?” Sejit said, looming, “I grant this to you out of respect.”
Just as suddenly as it’d appeared, all the amusement bled from Daontys’ countenance—leaving bald hatred in its place. His eyes shone like the sun. “I am Daontys! Father of the Gods! It is by my magnanimity that you are allowed to walk upon my world, yet you would seek to have me serve?”
“So be it.”
Sejit swung her blade.
Yet, she noticed, too late, Daontys’ focus wasn’t upon her, but behind her.
Something— someone—big and sturdy slammed into her, knocking her off balance. Her swing arced wide, slicing through emptiness.
Daontys scrambled to his feet and lurched away as fast as he could manage.
Fangs sunk into her neck, fire coursed in her veins, setting alight every nerve. Sejit roared, hurling her weapon at Daontys with such force that sound itself exploded in protest, but the old falcon moved with a deftness that hinted at acting before. Mun’skit shattered through the wall, embedding itself deep within a slab of rock that made up the rest of the mountain next to the mansion.
In the same motion as she’d thrown the spear, her arm came around and claws sunk into Hu’phed’s head. With a flex they bit in, and she tore back.
Half his face and skull exploded outward. The seams of hasty recovery along his body could not hold and split. Sejit labored for breath, stumbling, as what remained of Hu’phed slumped to the floor with a weighty, wet slap.
This time, there were no signs of healing.
Claws flexed, ached. Fires raged within her. Thoughts numbed.
Others. There are others, where are they? No, Daontys. Focus on Daontys!
“I. Am. God,” Daontys bellowed, lips tight against teeth, “Too long have mortals and mere deities alike gone without tribute. Too long have I maintained my facade! That will change, starting with you.”
But then, for the barest of moments, his expression softened as he observed the corpse of Hu’phed.
A zephyr that touched only Daontys rustled the scraps of clothing and his short-cropped hair, holding him aloft. Feathers sprouted from his body and he morphed, a massive falcon where a man once was, radiant white and yellow plumage covering his body.
Bad. Can’t think. Danger. Have to, have to escape.
Sejit handed off control to instinct. Immediately, instinct felt the crackling in the air and dove. What had been behind her was now… gone. A series of perfect circles cut out through multiple stone walls, and even the trees in the distance outside had been carved.
Waves of heat radiated in its wake, singing her fur. She scrambled on all fours, leaping and pouncing. This way then that, dodged a second solar flare, pivoted and came back, but it was a feint—another quick step had her safely out the corner where she had once been trapped.
Safe being a relative term, as she found herself in the section overhanging the cliff. Another narrow dodge roll meant the ray cored out the floor, exposing the world some three hundred feet below. The accumulated damage was too much and the floor couldn’t hold. Sejit fell through.
Freefall was lethal. Not because of the sudden stop at the end, but now she could only travel in one, predictable direction. If Daontys made it over before she got to solid ground…
Luck, fortune, whatever it was, favored her. He had not appeared to deliver the fatal blow before she plummeted into the tree tops below, sending leaves and branches whirling. Despite the agony and accompanying poison-induced haze, she managed to land right-side up, powerful legs and arms soaking up the long fall. In a burst, those muscles released that energy and she sprinted forward, vanishing deep enough in to the trees to grant some measure of safety before slowing to an awkward lumber—by her standards, but still something a human runner could only dream of—as the venom worked its caustic effect upon her body. Still, she forced herself onward, pausing to look back only after a minute or two had passed. She dropped behind a tree and peered around it.
Even from such a distance, it was plain to tell Daontys’ mansion had been left an utter ruin. The smoke was sure to draw attention… But, she spotted the massive falcon, rising above the smoldering wreck and beating his wing to disperse the columns of smoke before they had a chance to rise too far.
He was too smart to chase after her.
Which, perhaps due to the fog of venom, was a source of ambivalence.
She turned her back to the mansion, and on the tree, and slid down. That dose had been unlike anything before, a swimming pool of the shit compared to the thimble she remembered. Her eyes clamped shut. Breathing was difficult. Any muscle she stopped using for a second went stiff.
Were it not for Yf’s blessing, she would likely be dead or wishing for it.
Let me out. Or are you willing to accept the shame of defeat once more, leaving your first love’s gift behind once again?
“Silence!”
Coward!
Sejit’s jaw clamped like a trap with such force a tooth cracked in half.
I cannot think like this! she thought to herself—and to the lion, we cannot think like this!
We have no need of thought! You know what must be done!
“Shut. Up!”
Pathetic.
Venom, anger, shame. it didn’t matter which burned her core, just that it did. She could feel it. The lion could see it. The bars grew thin and rusty.
She was so tired of running and plotting and maneuvering. So tired of fighting.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Some people tried to take photos, others stared, but most—most had the good sense to flee from the rampaging beasts. Tess’ retreat had carried her straight into the heart of the city. Her smaller, more agile form was better suited to the tight twists and turns and cover afforded by all the buildings. That wasn’t to say it put Ifon at a significant disadvantage, because he could just barrel through most of the smaller buildings—and often did—though he did lose some speed. Which meant Tess could keep a tenuous distance.
Now that the flames of revenge had been snuffed and she was in brazen retreat, she was able to think again, to plot her path and consider the consequences.
Sejit was going to be livid. The world was going to change for this. There might even be a hunt.
But none of that mattered if she was dead.
In a handful of minutes they’d torn through a dozen blocks with Tess weaving through alleys and Ifon crashing through them. Sirens and people wailed. Police took potshots at the two; a bullet or two had grazed Tess, to no effect.
Paws the size of serving trays hammered down, gallons of air rushed in and out of lungs with every panted breath. She was in no danger of tiring anytime soon, but they couldn’t stay in the city or there’d be nothing left.
But once there were no more tight spaces to zig-zag through, it was going to become a test of speed.
One she was confident she would lose.
She’d just have to come up with something before then.
An explosion of bricks heralded another building leveled by the hulking Ifon, a dump-truck of a wolf careening through downtown.
If he didn’t kill her, Sejit was going to.
Her paws came down and destroyed a car waiting at a light. Another group of people dove into a coffee shop, just in time for Ifon’s bulk to bring it down.
Another minute r
aced by. The last hurdle was cleared by Tess, plowed through by Ifon.
A barren stretch of asphalt carved through the savanna.
It was on, now. No choice.
With no restrictions, they both wound up to their top end, entire bodies coiling and unwinding, consuming vast distances, sailing fifteen, twenty feet with every bound, hurtling at speeds that’d land someone driving a car on the same road in jail for years.
Tess laid down curtains of fire, mines to erupt underfoot—and while they seared flesh and fur, threw wrenches into his stride, they did not stop him. She cast an eye behind her to direct another great gout of flame. Ifon noted the shimmering patch upon the ground but did not alter course.
He yelped at the same moment it went off.
Before Tess could contemplate why he’d taken the hit, her world came to an abrupt, bone-shattering halt. She barreled full-speed into a wall of ice drawn across her path. The great construct cracked and groaned and hunks fell off, but stood firm against the thousands of pounds of jackal hurtling against it. Her body screamed in pain as dozens of splintered bones knit together. The impact rattled her so bad she couldn’t tell what was up and down, left or right.
All she knew was she had to run.
Legs tried to oblige, but they each had their own opinion about how to interpret the signals her brain fed them. She flailed about on the ground like a dog in a nightmare.
Ifon descended upon her in a snarl, aiming straight for the throat. Fangs pierced deep.
Body knew before the head that she was going to die. It acted of its own accord. Foot and claw swiped and scraped, she tried to bite back, but the larger, more powerful wolf brushed aside her futile resistance and clamped tight, pinning her.
Yelps and cries resounded from within a whirlwind of dust as the pair struggled. Legs and body writhed and wriggled in a desperate bid, but he held fast, sure-footed. Fire went off in random bursts around them, on top of them, melting sand and tarmac, taking blackened chunks out of the wolf, but nothing would dislodge him.
Breaths would not come. Blood poured from her wounds, flashing to rose-tinged steam upon the ground. More futile kicks, more futile struggles. One last attempt at his mind, his spirit—