A Slither of Hope
Page 20
Ray lowered her wing as best she could to look over her shoulder, the top curve of her gray feathers trembling from the effort. I followed her lead, angling a glance over my uninjured shoulder. From this angle the green cast an eerie glow into Earth’s dark sky, muting the twinkle of the stars. But that’s all I could see because of our angle. No dirt, no headstones, just the night and the space beyond it.
I turned back before she did, enjoying the view, savoring it. Her brown hair her own, coated in dirt from the cemetery floor. A trickle of blood from a cut in her lower lip had dripped down her chin and dried, probably from biting down on it in an effort not to give Lucien the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Good girl. Her eyes, not quite green, not quite hazel. They no longer reminded me of Kay. The sadness set inside them was a look I had come to recognize as something all her own. A sadness she had earned. One I hoped someday, when all of this was over, would vanish and become nothing more than a bad memory.
From behind, Lucien shoved my wing aside and clapped a hand over my injured shoulder, his fingers slipping into the knife wound, ripping open the tissue that had only just started to heal. He grinned at me as he passed. I clenched my hand into a fist. Nothing would have felt better than to knock that self-satisfied smile off his face. Too bad that would probably get me killed—and maybe Ray, too. That didn’t stop me from fantasizing about how far his teeth would fly.
His noiseless footsteps even sounded smug as he hurried to get in front of us. He held a stiff arm out to Ray, the corner of his lip twitching as his hand made contact with her chest. Her grip tensed in mine. I tugged her behind me, facing Lucien with my good arm in case he tried anything else. Ray fought her hand through the ends of my feathers to squeeze my hand. Once. A thank you.
“Interesting choice of protector, Pet,” Lucien said to her with a scoff. He turned, looping one snakeskin cowboy boot behind the other and twisted.
Ironic, he’d meant. Since Cam was a Protector and I was nothing more than a Fallen en route to Hell.
He knelt down, tearing through the rock bed at his feet. When he stood he lifted his arms high in the air, as if calling something to him. The ground quaked. I angled my wing back and looped my injured arm around Ray without realizing I’d done it. A brown mass rose before Lucien: an archway made entirely of skulls. Human skulls.
Lucien extended a dusty hand out, his demented blue eyes focused on Ray. I glanced back at her, readying myself to shove her back to the surface as hard as her body could take. The sight behind her made me falter. The earth had already closed behind us.
“The archway demands payment.” I turned at Lucien’s voice.
“Haven’t we given up enough?” Ray asked, the fracture in her voice palpable.
“Not even close, Pet.” He beckoned her again. “What we need is a pound of flesh.”
“I’ll do it,” I offered, stepping forward, holding her back with my injured arm, as far I could manage without howling in pain.
“Interesting choice indeed,” Lucien said to Ray, ignoring me. “But since we require human passage, the price is for human flesh.”
My muscles pulled taunt, twitching, just waiting for my brain to give the go ahead so I could tear him apart.
Lucien shook his head. “It’s only skin. With my essence still inside you, it will grow back, rather fast.”
Rayna touched my wing as she limped around me. “Let’s get this over with.”
Lucien reached in his belt, pulling out the large hunting knife I took off of Slim. A pound. That had to be a lot. Especially for her small frame. Her legs shook, her hands trembled. One wrong move and he could cut an artery or nick a vein and it would be over for her. I lowered my head and closed my eyes. There was nothing I could do for her.
I’d never felt so helpless.
When I dared to look again, Ray was on her stomach, resting her chin on her forearms. Lucien had pulled her jeans up to her knees. His blade sliced into the skin of her calf. She howled as he skillfully worked the knife up and around. Pain twisted her face. Tears poured from her eyes which seemed to be calling for me. Me. Not Camael. Me.
There was something I could do.
Shit.
I ran, sliding on my knees to get to her faster. Some of the smaller rocks lodged in my skin. I couldn’t have cared less. Taking her hands in mine, I kissed each of her knuckles, one by one, making myself take the time to give each one the attention it deserved. Her screams, the awful sound that echoed off the walls and made me hold her tighter, faded to grunts.
When I looked again Lucien had just finished skinning her other calf. There was so much blood. It poured from Ray, coating what was left of her skin and pooling onto the ground. Lucien stood and laid her flesh over the skulls, one slice on one side, then he tried to get the second slab on the opposite side, but with the curve of the arch, he was having some trouble making it stay.
Her flesh. No one in this century should have to endure such torture. I’d seen worse, yes, but the world was different then.
Rayna shook uncontrollably, shock and more pain than anyone deserved threatening to take her away from me. Possibly for good. I needed to find a way to ground her, to calm her down.
Damn it all to Hell.
While Lucien’s attention was focused on the archway, I leaned down, took her face in my hands, and kissed her.
I tasted the blood from the cut on her lip, and no doubt she tasted the blood on mine from the fight with Lucien, too. Instantly her body reacted. The shaking eased, and her lips moved against mine. Once. Twice. Then the strength left them. She swayed and passed out.
I caught her, then lifted her before her open wounds—that had miraculously already begun to heal—could touch the floor.
“There,” Lucien said, smoothing Ray’s lost skin over the curve of several skulls. “Perfect.” I mostly ignored him and watched the green intensify within the hollowed out eyes of the skulls, giving a strange hue to the red-coated slabs of flesh over them. Lucien began another round of infuriating chanting.
I returned my attention to Ray. Our first real kiss. One she’d probably never remember.
Good. It was better that way.
Gently, I turned her in my arms, moving her hair so I could look at her face—really look.
And I knew, more sure about this than I’d ever been of anything else, that this girl, this beautiful, frustrating, waif of a girl, would be the death of me.
LISA M. BASSO
Lisa M. Basso was born and raised in San Francisco, California. She is a lover of books, video games, animals, and baking (not baking with animals though). As a child she would crawl into worlds of her own creation and get lost for hours. Her love for YA fiction started with a simple school reading assignment: S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders. When not reading or writing she can usually be found at home with The Best Boyfriend that Ever Lived ™ and her two darling (and sometimes evil) cats, Kitties A and B.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
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