Terri Windling by Bordertown

Author:Bordertown [Bordertown]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-12-20T14:49:17+00:00

Each moment that passed he saw her change and grow more powerful and frightening. He stepped back, panting hard and watching her, horrified. She rose slowly to her feet, weaving cautiously out of his reach.

Her breath reeked like old meat, and she snapped her jaws, white with long fangs. Her eyes blazed, the orange glow hypnotic and terrifying. He forced himself to look away, and in that instant she grabbed him and tossed him like a child to the ground.

His body slammed into the hard concrete, and he felt a bone in his arm crack and splinter. Blood roared in his ears as the pain erupted in his arm. He rolled to one side, trying not to vomit, and cradled the broken arm. The sword lay just out of reach of his uninjured arm. Above him he saw the demon pull back her arm and prepare another strike. He tried again to reach the sword, the pain of failure a worse thought than the torment of his arm.

The sound of a flute chilled the air and stopped him. Its hollow tune wove an ugly despair about him, and he looked up, squinting with pain.

The demon was there, waiting, head weaving from side to side with the music. The music stopped, and standing around her, he saw the Bloods. Keno held the flute, the cruel face twisted with a triumphant sneer.

“Well, well, Koga Sensei,” he spat. “It seems you are outclassed. How do you like my pet? I know she used to be your pet, but I have made her a better killer, don’t you think?”

Koga didn’t answer. He’s gotten cocky, Koga thought, if he thinks he can work his spell in Dragontown.

He moved his head a fraction and saw his sword out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps he could still reach the sword and take the demon by surprise. He watched Keno carefully, waiting for his chance.

“You’ll be the first tonight, Sensei. I don’t need your lessons anymore. I’ll enjoy watching you die.” Keno brought the flute to his lips and played a new tune.

In Laura’s head the tune began to itch and sting. She swung her head madly, the music beating in her blood torturing her. She must kill, she must hunt to appease the music that burned along her skin. She moved toward the thing on the ground and dimly saw it roll and desperately reach for something lying near it. She raised her quills, ready to strike, when something stopped her—stopped her even as she foamed and clawed the air. It wrenched her neck and held her thrashing and snarling like a trapped wolf.

Beneath her, the thing held out a naked sword ready to split her. She howled and snapped frantically as the sound of the flute flayed her body and drove her forward.

Amid her fury she heard another sound, a liquid thread of music that fell about her shoulders like cool water on the stinging flesh. The sound grew as each note was plucked from the air and vibrated with new power.

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