Dying Wish: A Novel of the Sentinel Wars

by Shannon K. Butcher

  She heard another noise. A thump against the glass, only a foot from her elbow.

  Jackie yelped and jumped from her chair, scrambling away from the glass. “Iain.” His name was louder this time and filled with the same panic skittering around in her chest.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him turn his head. Then there was a flash of motion—a blur of skin and steel—as he leaped toward her.

  She continued to back up as he placed himself between her and the danger.

  “It’s just a bird or something,” she said, trying to convince herself.

  “Let’s find out.” He jerked back the curtains and right there, not ten feet away, were two glowing green eyes set in the head of a monster.

  It stood on two legs, nearly as tall as Iain. Its body was fish-belly pale, covered in random patches of black fur. Pointed teeth filled its mouth, and fluorescent yellow saliva wet the front of its body. The thing was heavily muscled, its jaw sloping down to its thick shoulders, totally forgoing the need for a neck. Each finger was tipped with a black claw at least two inches long, and it used them to scrape at the glass.

  Its eyes—disturbingly human—landed on her, and a sickly green light flared within them, as if it recognized her.

  “That’s no bird,” said Iain. “We need to get you out of here.”

  Fear had a tight hold on her. She’d been fighting it ever since her rescue, but her system seemed to go back to that terrified state so easily, locking up her body so that she couldn’t act.

  “Now, Jackie!” bellowed Iain. “Move!”

  His command cut through her fear, and she scrambled toward the door, grabbing her purse and suitcase handle.

  “Leave it. There’s nothing in there worth your life.”

  She let go of the suitcase, but her purse was already strapped to her body. Besides, that’s where she carried her gun, and she wasn’t about to leave her only weapon behind.

  He drew the curtains shut and raced across the room, grabbing a leather jacket from the top of his bag. She was already at the door, fumbling with the locks, failing to open them.

  “Move your hands. I can’t risk touching them right now.”

  Right. The pain could incapacitate him, leaving her to defend herself.

  What a laughable thought that was.

  She did as he asked, moving out of the way so he could open the door. A moment later, he peeked out into the hall. “It’s clear. We’re going to run to the exit at the end of the hall, okay? Head straight for my truck. Don’t look back.” He pulled the keys from his jeans pocket and dangled them. “If anything happens to me, leave without me. Don’t stop driving until you’re back at Dabyr.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” she said, as much for her own benefit as his.

  “Take the keys. Put this jacket on. It will protect you.”

  “You take it. You’re the one who has to stay alive to fight.”

  “Do what I say, and we’ll both be fine. I saw only one of them. It’s probably just a scout. I won’t even break a sweat taking it out.”

  Jackie took the keys and the jacket, being careful not to touch his skin.

  He gave her a satisfied nod. “Stay close.”

  He didn’t need to tell her twice.

  Murak was not going to fail his father, one of the most powerful Synestryn lords on the continent, the way his brother had. The way Zillah had. His father, Raygh, was not known for his tolerance or his mercy, so when Raygh ordered Murak to hunt down Zillah’s stolen humans and bring them back, Murak jumped to obey. Two of the females were carrying Synestryn offspring, and the theft of their young could not be tolerated.

  Murak drove down the narrow street, blending easily among the humans. Unlike his ancestors, he looked more human than monster, with only a few exceptions that the proper clothing hid. The cattle moving past him, sitting behind him at a stoplight, were none the wiser, completely oblivious to the fact that soon all of them would be either food or slaves.

  The stink of their bodies burned his nose, but he drew deeply of the night air, seeking for some sign of a trail.

  This backwater town was the closest one to where the captives had escaped. Certainly one of them had to be here, reeking of fear. And if some brave little soul wasn’t afraid, the distinct scent of Synestryn blood would be seeping out of their pores.

  Find them and I’ll grant you all of Zillah’s holdings.

  That’s what Murak’s father had promised, and there was nothing more he wanted than to expand his domain and fill it with his offspring and enough food to stuff their bellies. Zillah’s holdings were expansive, and a good start for Murak’s kingdom.

  He’d already dispatched his hunters, giving them the items he’d recovered from the caves. Clothing, blankets, hair—whatever he could find that still held the scent of those who’d been stolen. Between their efforts and his, it wouldn’t be long before they’d reclaimed their property.

  The cattle seemed to be converging on the center of town. He’d passed a school there earlier, and seen the sign outside lit up, streaming with balloons and announcing tonight’s special performance. Based on the rush of traffic, a large segment of the population would be in attendance.

  Perfect. He could slip in, check for escaped prisoners within the large gathering, and begin recapturing what Zillah had lost. He didn’t need to find everyone, just the humans in which they’d invested precious time and blood. It took years to create a vessel for their offspring, and Zillah’s mistake was going to be Murak’s gain.

  He entered the school, paid for his ticket, and went to the back of the auditorium. The curtains were drawn and the cattle milled around, greeting one another with smiles and conversation. No one paid any attention to him, which suited him fine.

  He pulled their stench into his lungs, seeking for a hint of prey.

  A young human rushed by, stirring the air.

  There. Right there was the scent of the blood of his kind. Sweet and metallic.

  He rose from his seat and followed the trail. It led to a young girl in the second row. She was skinny and pale, with bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep. Much of her hair had fallen out, and what was left was pulled back with a cheerful yellow bow.

  Murak summoned his power and concealed himself from all those present. He moved closer to the child, seeing the bony knees protruding out from under her skirt. She was ten or twelve, perhaps, and nearly complete. Years of work and gallons of their blood had gone into her so that she could perform her duties. Another year of alterations and they’d be able to breed her.

  The child began to tremble, as if she sensed his presence. She looked around and reached for the hand of her father, sitting beside her. The man wrapped his arm around her and looked at his wife with sunken eyes filled with despair.

  “We should go,” he said. “She’s not ready to be out in a crowd yet.”

  The woman nodded sadly and stood, gathering her purse.

  Murak moved out of the way, letting them pass. It was a simple matter to follow them home. Once the girl was alone, he’d take back what was rightfully his.

  Chapter 8

  Iain’s body was still throbbing with the pain of losing Jackie’s touch. So much that it was making him slow. He could feel the slight lag in his thought processes—only a split second, but definitely enough to make him hesitate and die in a fight.

  Whatever that thing out there was, he’d never seen anything like it before. It was new, and he wasn’t looking forward to finding out what surprises it had in store.

  He bolted down the hallway, keeping tabs on the steady pounding of Jackie’s feet behind him. She stayed close as he slammed out through the door and into the cold night air.

  His truck was about two hundred feet away. There were only a few cars in the parking lot of the run-down hotel, and with any luck, the inhabitants weren’t spending any time looking out of their windows.

  Iain moved fast, keeping watch around them, searching for signs that
there were any more Synestryn where that one had come from. The area was dark, quiet. There was little around except for a restaurant and gas station on the far side of the interstate.

  He heard a noise to his left and spun around to face it. The demon was crouched next to a bush in a decorative landscaping bed. Its eyes flared bright as it spotted them, and it let out a wet, gurgling hiss. Yellow saliva cascaded from its mouth, sliding down onto its chest.

  “Keep moving,” said Iain. “I’ll hold him off.”

  To her credit, she didn’t waste time asking questions. She sprinted toward the truck, leaving Iain in a much better position to kill this thing without worrying about her getting hurt in the process.

  Iain took a firm grip on his sword. The monster within him beat at its cage, demanding to be set free. It liked killing. It was good at it, but with Jackie so close, he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk not being able to shove all that rage and violence back to where it belonged. It was better to stay in control. Do this with frigid efficiency of logic, rather than the searing release of anger.

  He lifted his blade and moved in. The demon sprang toward him, claws extended. He ordered his body to move, but the slight lag caused by the pain made him clumsy. Instead of stepping cleanly out of the way the instant he should have, he hesitated, ducking at the last second.

  One claw parted his hair as the demon passed overhead. Iain felt no pain, no sting of poison entering his system, but he couldn’t take any chances with Jackie only feet away. He needed this thing dead. Now.

  Iain spun around and followed the demon up, slicing a shallow cut on one of its arms. It howled in pain and then spat at Iain.

  With his chest bare and no face shield or armor of any kind, Iain was a sitting duck for a poisoned attack. And the thing knew it.

  He lifted his blade, letting it take the brunt of the barrage of glowing yellow demon spit. Some of it landed on Iain’s arm.

  He whipped his sword to discharge the poison onto the ground, and moved forward, closing the gap between them. This thing was clearly going to keep spitting from a distance if Iain let him, so he angled his body, forcing the demon to circle back toward the wall where it would be pinned.

  It wasn’t smart enough to figure out what Iain was doing, but that hardly mattered. The poison on his arm began to tingle, telling him that he was running out of time. It hadn’t entered his bloodstream yet, but it was sinking through his skin too fast for him to do this slowly and methodically.

  As soon as the angle was right, Iain leaped forward and went in for a low strike, cutting across the demon’s thigh.

  It screamed in pain and crumpled down to hold its leg.

  To his left, a set of curtains parted, letting the light inside spill out. The humans inside couldn’t see the demon from where they were, but that noise was going to bring company.

  Letting humans witness a fight was a risky thing. Knowing that Synestryn existed could open them up to attack. Most humans didn’t possess enough ancient blood for the demons to bother them, but those that did—the blooded humans—were at risk of being captured or killed for food.

  Iain was honor-bound to protect all humans to the best of his ability, which meant ending this fight now.

  While the demon was crouched, Iain moved in for the kill. Before he could cross the small distance, the beast gobbled up some of the landscaping stones and spat them at Iain.

  He dodged.

  “Behind you!” shouted Jackie.

  Too late, Iain spun to face the new threat. Another demon charged, barreling toward him with claws extended and yellow teeth bared.

  The first demon now had access to his unprotected back.

  Iain maneuvered to get himself out of the vulnerable flanked position even as he prepared to meet the demon’s charge. At the last possible second, he stepped sideways, dropping down into a spinning arc. His sword slashed through the beast’s face, lopping off the top of its head.

  Black blood, glowing spit, and bits of brain splattered onto the wall of the hotel with a wet slap. The whole thing had taken only seconds, but in that time, the first demon had moved closer—close enough to be a real threat.

  Its cheeks bulged, barely containing what it held in its mouth.

  Iain moved in for the kill before it was too late. The demon drew in a huge breath and propelled soggy chunks of gravel from its mouth. Glowing yellow rock sailed toward him.

  He jerked, midstride, dodging as much of the rock as he could, but some of it grazed his chest and arm. A cold burn hit his skin, and a second later, a wave of dizziness slapped him out of nowhere as the poison entered his system. He hadn’t meant to lose control, but it was too late for that.

  Rage detonated inside him as he realized what had happened. He let out a bellow loud enough to shake the glass and charged.

  His first attack was sloppy. He was slower than normal, the pain and poison weighing down his limbs. It took him a moment to realize that he’d misjudged the distance and swiped through thin air. He stumbled, struggling to regain his balance. His vision extended, tunneling out, like he was looking backward through binoculars. Everything seemed too far away.

  But he knew the demon was there, laughing at him. He just had to get in one good hit and take it down—make it scream as it died.

  Iain swung blindly, cutting his way forward toward the demon, who appeared to be a tiny speck on the horizon. The thing moved, as if dodging a blow, and Iain was sure he had to have nearly hit it.

  He swiped again, and the drag on the tip of his blade told him he’d made contact with something. The demon? The building? A bush? He couldn’t be sure.

  Sweat trickled down his brow and into his eyes, burning them. His body began to shake, and his sword felt heavy. He forced his arms to lift it up, but the effort made him tremble.

  The demon hissed in anger, and the sound got closer as he did so. Iain swung again, tracking that sound.

  A cold, insidious weakness started to spread from his chest into his limbs. His muscles began to tighten, clenching down involuntarily. He didn’t have much time until his body gave out, and before it did, he had to kill the demon so it couldn’t touch Jackie.

  Just the thought was enough to make the monster inside of him howl in rage. His blood pumped faster, sending poison careening through his veins. He was out of time. He had to finish this.

  Tires squealed nearby. Jackie was leaving. She was safe.

  His monster hissed at her loss, demanding that his legs move so he could go after her. She was his. He needed her. How dare she leave him?

  Iain tried to take back control before his inner monster did something irrevocable. And then his knee buckled, and he realized that the demon’s poison prevented him from doing anything.

  Jackie was gone. He couldn’t go after her. All he could do now was finish off the last Synestryn so she stayed safe.

  The demon seemed so far away now it was merely a glowing speck of light in the darkness. Or maybe that was a landscape light. Iain could no longer be sure. He kept his sword moving, spinning and cutting so that the thing couldn’t get close without taking a hit.

  “Hold still,” ordered Jackie, her tone imperial. She was close. Too close.

  His monster cackled in victory, staking a claim on her as the spoils of battle. Iain tried to beat the beast back, but he was weak now, growing weaker by the second.

  A gunshot went off, so loud it had to have been only a few feet away.

  “Run, damn it!” he shouted.

  The gun barked, over and over.

  Iain’s legs went numb, and he feared that if he took even one more step, he’d topple to the ground.

  “It’s dead,” she said, her voice a thin strand of panic.

  “I need to cut off its head. Just to be sure.” He fell over, feeling nothing but the sudden stop of his body as it hit the ground.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Poison. Don’t worry about that. Take my sword and cut off its head. If you don�
��t, it will follow you.”

  Her voice was unsteady, uncertain. “I don’t think I can do that.”

  In the distance, he heard the faintest scream of a police siren. “Cops are coming. Hurry.”

  “They’ll see it. I need to drag it into the woods.”

  “Don’t touch it!” If she had so much as a hangnail, she could end up just like him, blind and vulnerable.

  “Someone saw us through their window. We need to go. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to touch you.”

  “Leave me here. There’s no time.” His words slurred together.

  “Shut up, you contrary bastard. I’m doing this.”

  Rather than waste his breath, he did what he could to help her lug his contrary ass into the truck. He wasn’t sure exactly how she managed the feat. Then again, he kept fading in and out of awareness, so he wasn’t sure about much of anything right now.

  All he knew was that he was freezing, and being tugged into the black.

  His monster screamed in rage, demanding that Iain grab her and hold her so she couldn’t run away. He didn’t bother wasting effort trying to fight it. His body was too weak for him to cooperate, effectively thwarting his monster’s plans.

  “Call for help,” he mumbled. “Joseph.” He could barely hear himself over the hissing rage within him.

  And then suddenly, it stopped. Everything went quiet, as if she’d somehow lulled the monster to sleep.

  “Hush. I’m driving with only one hand. I don’t have another for a phone right now.”

  He vaguely wondered what she was doing with her other hand, but after a few seconds of grueling thought, he gave up the effort. The struggle to remain conscious was taking too much of a toll, sucking away his strength. But he couldn’t black out and leave her alone. She’d be completely unprotected.

  The cold numbness crept up his neck. “Call Joseph,” he insisted, before he could no longer speak. The words were slurred, and he hoped she could understand them.

  “Don’t you dare die,” she ordered him.

  He could no longer move his mouth. He couldn’t even feel it. A few seconds later, he couldn’t feel anything at all.