Anna Dressed in Blood - Kendare Blake [91]
I’ve been in the attic, eating cats. I look closer at the black snake he’s been weaving through his fingers. It’s Tybalt’s tail.
“You fuck—you ate my cat!” I yell, and thank you, Tybalt, for one last favor, this pissed-off rush of adrenaline. The quiet is suddenly filled with the sound of knocking. Anna heard me yell and is banging on the door, asking if I’m all right. The ghost’s head snaps around like a snake, an unnatural, disturbing movement.
My mom doesn’t know what’s going on. She didn’t know Anna was outside, so she starts clinging to me, unsure of what to be more afraid of.
“Cas, what is that?” she asks. “How are we going to get out?”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I say. “Don’t be scared.”
“The girl we wait for is right outside,” he says, and shuffles forward. My mom and I drop down a step.
I put my hand out across the railing. The athame flashes and I bring it back to eye level. “You stay away from her.”
“She’s what we came for.” He makes a soft, hollow rustling when he moves, like his body is an illusion and he’s nothing more than empty clothes.
“We didn’t come for anything,” I spit. “I came to kill a ghost. And I’m going to get my chance.” I lunge forward, feeling my blade part the air, the silver tip just grazing his front buttons.
“Cas, don’t!” my mom shouts, trying to drag me back by one arm. She needs to knock it off. What does she think I’ve been doing all this time? Setting elaborate traps using springs, plywood, and a mouse on a wheel? This is hand-to-hand. This is what I know.
Meanwhile, Anna is pounding harder on the door. It must be giving her a migraine to be so close.
“It’s what you’re here for, boy,” he hisses, and takes a swing at me. It seems halfhearted; it misses by a mile. I don’t think he missed because of the whole stitched-over-eye thing. He’s just playing with me. Another clue is the fact that he’s laughing.
“I wonder how you’ll go,” I say. “I wonder if you’ll shrivel up, or if you’ll melt.”
“I won’t do either of those things,” he says, still smiling.
“And what if I cut off your arm?” I ask as I leap up the stairs, my knife retracted and then slicing out in a sharp arc.
“It will kill you on its own!”
He strikes me in the chest, and my mom and I fall head over ass down the steps. It hurts. A lot. But at least he’s not laughing anymore. Actually, I think I finally succeeded in pissing him off. I gather my mom up.
“Are you okay? Is anything broken?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Get to the door.” As she scrambles away, I stand up. He’s walking down the steps without any sign of that old ghostly stiffness. He’s as limber as any living, young man.
“You might just vaporize, you know,” I say, because I’ve never been able to keep my damned mouth shut. “But personally, I hope you explode.”
He takes a deep breath. And then another. And then another, and he’s not letting them back out. His chest is filling up like a balloon, stretching his ribcage. I can hear the sinews in there, ready to snap. Then, before I know what’s happening, his arms are thrust out toward me and he’s right in my face. It happened so fast I could barely see it. My knife hand is pinned against the wall and he’s got me by the collar. I’m hitting him in the neck and shoulder with my other hand, but it’s like a kitten swatting yarn.
He lets go of that breath, rolling out through his lips in thick, sweet smoke, passing over my eyes and into my nostrils, so strong and cloying that my knees buckle.
From somewhere behind me, I feel my mom’s hands. She’s screeching my name and pulling me away.
“You’ll give her to me, my son, or you’ll die.” And he lets me drop, back into my mother’s arms. “Your body’s filth will rot you. Your mind will drain out your ears.”
I can’t move. I can’t talk. I can breathe, but not much else, and I feel far away. Numb. Sort of confused. I can feel my mom yelp and lean over me as Anna finally blows the door off its hinges.
“Why don’t you take