Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [98]
“So you were planning on killing me the whole time?” Douglas blew away some of the loose chalk. “Yes.” He filled in a thin spot in the line. “Unless you proved useful. But most likely, yes.”
He had to draw a big circle to get the table and himself inside, so he stood up and moved to another chunk of the floor. Unfortunately that took him right in view of the cage.
The room exploded into motion. Douglas shouted at Michael, who leapt toward the bars. Brid dove out of hiding. She let out a warrior scream midleap and changed. I’m not sure what I expected. Some amount of twisting limbs, maybe some mucus. I guess when she told me that the process was fast, I didn’t really get what she meant. One minute, Brid was howling in midair, her arms extended, wearing my Batman shirt and my boxers, the next minute she was vapor. It was like Brid exploded into a million pieces, and when those pieces came back together, she was a white blur of fur and teeth. My shirt and boxers drifted to the floor.
Michael turned so fast I didn’t see him move, but it wasn’t fast enough. Brid caught his arm in her teeth. Her momentum too great to hold on, she continued forward, slicing his arm in the process. Brid hit the ground, sliding on her paws. In her new form, she was pure white, except for the inside of her ears, which were pink like the inner recesses of seashells. Even in her animal form, she was breathtaking. Watching her move was like stumbling onto a hidden glade in the forest and finding a startled deer. Perfection of form and movement in nature—you can’t help but be awed by it.
I caught a spot of crimson on her tail and the back of one of her ears. She’d only looked pure white at first. I’d never seen markings that color before. Her eyes were a blazing red. As she glared at Michael, the blaze grew until it looked like she had balls of flame for eyes.
A popping sound later and Brid was back, only naked now. “I’d fight you wolf to wolf, but the change would take you way too long. I might grow old waiting.” She went into a fighting stance, her face hard.
Michael flicked his arms out and opened his palms. “I can change what I need to.” His voice lowered into an eager growl. As I watched, his hands thickened, claws growing from the pads of his fingers.
“C’mon,” he said, “where’s your dainty claws?” His voice took on a taunting lilt. “Oh, right,” he said, “you can’t do a partial change, can you, half-breed?”
“I guess I’m just not as perfect as you,” she said, sweetly. She flicked her arms out in a similar motion. Instead of claws, each of her hands held a short sword. Each blade flared out from its pommel, a little over two feet in length. Brid eased back into her fighting stance and smiled. As she did, the blades burst into the same flames I’d seen in her eyes earlier. She lunged at Michael, who dodged her thrust. He rolled to the side and slashed out with his hand. When they pulled away from each other, Brid was bleeding from her rib cage. The wound looked shallow, and she ignored it. They started circling each other.
A small black-and-silver blur zoomed past my head, hovering next to Douglas. The blur slowed and landed on the top of the bookshelf, morphing into the shape of Douglas’s cat. It flicked its tail and settled.
“We have a problem.” The cat’s voice sounded grim. Despite everything, I was surprised when it spoke. I’d never seen a cat talk outside of a Disney movie. No wonder everyone had looked at me funny when I petted it. You don’t pet things that talk.
“Now what?” Douglas asked.
“Intruders,” the cat said.
Douglas cursed under his breath. “What kind?”
“Wolves, front and back of the house, and what appears to be a kid with a skateboard.” The cat’s tail snapped back and forth. “I recommend postponing the ritual