Voracious - Alice Henderson [66]
Panting and leaping over tall grasses, she hit the meadow. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could see that tremendous granite outcroppings rose on both sides of her, bordering the meadow. No use darting to the side.
Zigzagging left and right, she leapt over tree stumps and windfalls of old branches. Behind her, the creature threw up branches and pinecones in its wake. Clouds slid away from the moon and made it easy to see anything big sticking out of the ground. She leapt over half-buried logs and large rocks. Chancing a glance behind, she saw a furtive bounding dark shape only twenty or so feet behind. She tripped on a rock, managed to regain her balance, tripped again, stumbled, righted herself.
Behind her the running footsteps thrashed through the tall grass, then took on the eerie quality of loping. It was on all fours. She could hear the rhythmic thump of each foot. In her mind, she could see the creature’s black form speeding through the trees, the gleam in its eyes as it hunted her.
A dull whump sounded behind her.
She had completely forgotten about the car. Glancing back, she saw bright licks of flame on the road at the edge of the meadow.
Then a tremendous weight crashed into her, sending her sprawling into the grass. The creature landed on her back, his claws curling around her shoulders, his legs straddling her body. With a whoosh, air exploded from her lungs, and she lay stunned, struggling to breathe. Then, slowly, oxygen returned, and she felt the crushing weight of him on top of her. She writhed beneath him, grass sticking in her mouth, pinecones piercing her cheek.
He moved his face down next to hers. Round red eyes filled her view. He had completely reverted to the sleek black creature she’d first seen on the mountain. A shadow with weight. “You give a good chase.”
The sound of creaking bones and snapping sinew erupted, and the creature shape-shifted again. She felt him grow very cold and then hot on top of her, the eyes, still near her own, closed as if in ecstasy. A face formed, one she didn’t recognize. Chiseled, classically handsome features. Olive skin, shoulder-length black hair falling in front of his face. He snapped open his eyes—deep green. They focused on her.
She jerked to one side, trying to throw him off. “You don’t like my real face?” he asked. “But you’re the first person I’ve shown it to in such a long time.”
Kicking out at his knees and elbowing him in the gut, she managed to flip herself over and came face-to-face with him. He still sat on top of her. His eyes flashed brightly, hot as embers, momentarily burning her retina. Quickly she punched him in the face, and he grunted but did not move off her. Rearing her hips up, she tried to throw him off, make him lose his balance. But smoothly he matched her moves with his own, never even coming close to falling over.
She struck him in the throat. He coughed but remained stationary. A fury of panic welled up within her, and she grabbed his neck, desperately trying to choke him. But instead, he brought his hands up and closed around hers in an almost tender gesture.
A surging wave of powerful energy hit her. She fell back against the ground, a blinding light enveloping her mind, the creature relentlessly holding on to her hands. Her eyes fluttered in her head; her back arched. A tremor began in her chest and spread throughout her body, her legs and arms shaking violently. Still he held fast. She tried to break the connection, tried to break free.
Too intense. Too intense.
Waltzing, dizzy, at a masquerade ball in eighteenth century France, twirling a blonde-haired woman around the dance floor and laughing giddily …
Feasting on corpses on a medieval battlefield,