Killing with the Edge of the Moon by A. A. Attanasio

Author:A. A. Attanasio
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A. A. Attanasio

Chapter 17

Maulers' Dance

Who would fight devils but for love?

—Huth Merlin

Chet moved cautiously through luminous woods. As the pulsating music grew louder, he jogged more swiftly down moon-bright lanes of mossy trees. Ahead, he glimpsed violently dancing figures and quickened his pace.

His breathing scooped deep into his lungs, stamina wearing thin. The driving rock-beat of the music masked his gasping approach.

Close enough to see the sweaty faces of the dancers, faces full of impish mischief, he stopped. His cap had fallen off during his run, and his dark hair, loosened from its combed restraint, dangled across his eyeglasses. He brushed back those obscuring strands and stood with his hand grasping his head, astounded, watching the animal frenzy of the dancing Theena Shee.

Bestial eyes streaked like sparks. Hair bristled thick as fur over naked shoulders—and fangs rayed in laughing mouths.

Chet backed away, frightened. Then, he spotted Flannery in the slamming crowd, dancing ferociously with Arden before a colossal disfigured oak. She looked more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair flared like extravagant fire, and her face shone haughty as a highland princess.

Drawn to her, he entered the moony air of the glade and the raucous din of music. Like a shackled man, he plodded past couples of Theena Shee grappling amorously among trees immersed in fog gauzy as ether. Eyes fixed on Flannery, he wended amid crazed, pelvic dancers.

The Theena Shee danced around him with undiminished vigor, oblivious to his presence. Invisible, he made his way closer to Flannery through the churning dance mob.

The press of the manic throng jostled him, and the hand of a gyrating dancer snagged the hazelnut necklace. Nuts flew like buckshot, ricocheting off surrounding dancers.

An unearthly shriek pierced the revelry, and the pounding music fell silent. The Theena Shee crouched and glared at Chet avid as wolves.

Chet screamed, “Flannery!”

Flushed with exertion, Flannery spun about in time to see Chet seized by the Theena Shee and dragged kicking out of the glade.

Bone knives flashed in the moonlight and stabbed Chet. The blades clacked off his inverted clothes as if rebuffed by armor.

Covering his face with his arms, Chet shoved through the enclosing Theena Shee. Their angry shouts lashed him, and he bolted into the forest. With outraged howls, they pursued. An infuriated gang of shadows in the moon-smoke, they flurried among the trees.

Chet fled for his life. Arms pumping, feet high stepping over roots and rocks, he wove among the trees.

A pack of predators, the Theena Shee swarmed closer, eye-glints stripes of fire in the dark. Their screeches and brutal cries ripped the night.

Chet stumbled and rolled down an embankment in a vortex of churning leaves. At the bottom, he scrambled to his feet, panting in terror, heart punching, and splashed across a creek. He tripped over a fallen bough and sprawled to his back on the far side. Face smeared with fright, he lifted both hands to ward off his rabid pursuers.

The Theena Shee stopped cold on the other side of the creek. Arrayed along the bank in a tangled mass, they hissed and droned with frustration.

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