Chapter 21
Ash, Desperately Doomed
Ash don't know what twisted his gut more – the scent, the sight, the tickle of blood and gore covering Mandy and Snow, it all suddenly vanishing into thin air, or how milky the moonlight made Snow as she trembled at the sight of her very evil mother behind him.
The lampposts were dim enough that the details of the buildings were engulfed by darkness. The utter silence of everything – from down the maze of roads and alleyways, from the many shuttered windows, from even the far distance …
It sent so many chilly zips up his spine he almost shivered – except the sharp edge of the blade pointed pressed against him stopped the foolish movement dead cold.
Because he headed toward dead cold.
That the crackle of the blood and gore crumbling into nothingness was so low yet somehow so loud …
He nearly shuttered. Again.
The taste of alcohol burned the back of his throat ragged. No way anyone inside those buildings were watching without feeling the same creeping, slimy feeling inside their guts. Racking their bones with even more chills.
But then again, with all the blood, gore, and bodies sprawled on the streets on the way here, maybe no one else was left alive.
Every few feet, another victim or two. The bumpy cobble guttering the congealed blood as wretched as vomit from a drunk about to faint. Occasionally a broken blade tip somewhere. More than rattling’s pile of cracks plank wreckage from stands or wagons utterly destroyed by giant clubs or axes.
All enough to make Ash question his ridiculous drinking contest with Mandy.
Had he slit her throat when he had the chance ... would he of managed to kill a few more darklings in time to spare a few more lives? Given a few of the now dead victims a chance to escape to the sprawling forests of dense entangled cathedrals oaks and thorny mattresses of blueberry brush beyond the giant stone walls surrounding this city?
That Mandy and her wide poison ivy eyes gawked wide at the sight of Snow.
And Snow's bloodthirsty mother behind Ash.
Even Amber herself must of feared this bloodthirsty lycan. Her once sweet cherry scent was fouled by raw bitter fear.
The bat-kitty smushed against Amber's chest was barely able to let out a scared squeak.
So when Snow trudged up Ash. Gazed at her mom blue eyes sharp yet full of terror.
Ash decided the silence was too much.
“Um,” He began to say.
“Shut up,” said Snow's mom, “Or die sooner than planned.”
He did.
Shut up, that was.
But a glance toward the new villainess revealed she was a fox lycan like her daughter. With a fur coat similar to Snow's. Her almond face and lovely figure far too similar to Snow for coincidence. Even her white hair and its blue highlights was uncanny in its resemblance.
Her scent suddenly hit his nostrils.
Underneath the blood and gore was a bit of rosy jasmine fragrance. Sending his heart racing for some reason.
Even his mouth rushed to obey too.
Ash couldn't open it even if he wanted to now.
“To reduce yourself to a mere purren,” said Snow's mom, “Do you know the effort I went through to ensure the right raising ritual? Completing it properly would have granted you nearly as much strength and power as I have now. Even in its current state, it increased your strength and abilities greatly …”
The silence pause sharpening the blade of the next obvious words.
“Yet you throw it all away to help some pathetic Champion and his little construct,” said Snow's mom. The acid in her voice could melt through several feet of steel.
“Um, what?” asked Ash.
The blade nipped the right side of his throat.
Snow frowned. Her pose stiffer than a prisoner about to executed.
The scents of every else but Snow's mom fouled by even rawer fear.
“Last warning, boy,” said Snow's mom, “Speak once more unbidden and you die.”
Ash opened his mouth to concur.
Then shut it and gulped.
Not even daring to nod.
“Good,” said Snow's mom.
“Mom,” said Snow, “I –”
The newcomer huffed.
About as scornful as Connie during Ash's usual nonsensical drunk rants that he thankfully, rarely, remembered after the hangover the next day.
If only Connie forgot them as well.
And the exact kind of scorn nobles from his mother's rival families threw at each other all the time. At her too. For being the spawn of a rival family and having the blood of a common solider. As if the blood from theirs didn't count at all.
“Shut up,” Snow's mom said, “Hiding so many humans from the darklings here – you truly thought no one would notice it. A spell here. A spell there. Then a massive link covering the whole city. Until the lightlings hidden in their homes gave off no scent or sound. As if darklings were stupid enough not to check them?”
That dropped Ash's jaw as much as it didn't Snow's.
Saving Felix?
Then saving plenty of civilians?
Suddenly, Snow was looking incredibly beautiful for a fox girl. Enough that he could enjoy her lady bits, the silky white fur over the, and the blue highlights emphasizing them.
Ash would win her freedom.
Somehow.
And even make him curious what her face looked like without the fur covering it. Her body too.
“So unbelievably foolish,” said Snow's mom, “A few lessons from a bunch of backwater hedge mages ruling a backwater kingdom and you think you're ready for the grand stage. Even Scarlet soon realized her lessons from her wizardly guardian were sorely lacking.”
As much as it twisted his gut, that backwater stuff made an odd sort of sense. The lessons from his own wizardly father were lacking too. That the Four Realms was a backwater place and its wizards weren't as amazing as they seemed …
Ash wondered what kind of world existed beyond the Four Realms.
Whether the tall cramped buildings here, with their bright painted decorations, would seem as primitive as huts.
Whether the minced meat pies and fountains of alcohol were old-fashioned and crude.
What they would think of this crazy War of light and Darkness.
Especially how it supposedly happened every age or so. Regularly too from the sound of it. Just destroy enough history books over the years and no one would remember enough of the ancient past to connect the knots either.
“Scarlet?” said Snow. Her face beginning to light up. Fear and hope twisting it. “She –”
“She's alive,” said the newcomer lycan, “Different name. Earned herself the right to spent a few years at Darkheart. A magical school where she will receive a proper magical education. Where I'm sending you, but with far less –”
“But –” began Snow.
“No butts except yours heading to Darkheart right now,” said Snow's mom, “Right after I slice open the throat of this boy with the right ritual and take his talent for myself.”
* * *
Dying here.
With the lamppost were so dim they were practically out. The silence so unnaturally complete it sent a few extra shivers up his spine.
Bad enough the bright milky moonlight from the giant full moon was the only reason Ash could still see at all.
See the shock on Snow's face. Those crisp blue eyes. As blue as the electric icy bolt she could create out of thin air. With friendly cheeks dimpled pleasantly, despite her shock and fear tensing froze in a half-gawk, jaw hanging expression.
If only he could see Amber's. Her electric blue eye might not be so haughty but …
Electric blue eye …
Snow's face … those lips, turn them juicy cherry red, throw her long hair over the left side of her face, minus the fur and add a crisp peachy complexion … and her body, those ratios Penny obsessed too much about, even the slight curl of her slim hands …
So much like Amber …
But he didn't dare look toward the vandread Amber to compare. Warn Snow's mom of Amber's value, or the connection he was wondering about, of Amber possibly being Snow's secret sister.
That mind-bending jasmine stink failed to hid Amber's sweet cherry aroma too.
As if some furball could out do Amber.
Other than Snow, of course.
Who already succeeded in reaching hero-status within a real-life play situation. Hopefully, this play has a happy ending.
But the tragic one seemed inevitable.
Yet his heart still pounded strong. Her dear Amber might still have a chance for a second life. A second chance to become the greatest playwright ever. Snow, as the look-alike daughter of this villainess and his beloved, would probably survive scolded but not out.
Down but not out.
Two opposite sides uniting –
A desperate scheme flushed his blood as hot and sweet as hot chocolate touched with vodka.
“I'll marry Snow,” Ash said, “My latent talent, rare and powerful, combined with her, um, potential … our children should prove –”
When agony slice down the right side of his throat and across his chest. Wetness pouring out of the crack of pain.
And Ash fell on his ass.
Then collapsed on his back.
Panting.
“A lesson for you, my dear Snow,” said her mom. The curved blade bloody now.
And Ash's body too weak to stand back up.
Snow glanced terrified at him.
Her foxy ears clearly sinking at his inevitable death.
“Disappoint me at Darkheart …” she continued.
“I'll do my best, mother,” said Snow. Her hands huddling low below her waist.
“But if Ash truly has such rare and valuable potential,” Snow said, “Then –”
But Snow's mother growled like a pitbull denied his long-awaited steak bone.
The silence of the city so heavy it echoed her menace perfectly.
“Any other witch so arrogant as you would suffer greatly at my hands,” Snow's mother said, “Beg for death. Which I would only grant after I tire of punishing her. By ripping out their liver, lobe by lobe, and eating it raw. Letting her feel my fangs sink into her flesh and chew it apart. Spiced bittersweet by her fear and despair. Then followed by whichever organ I am in the mode for. Until I am full of my feast and I let her die.
And that, my dear daughter, is why you should keep your claws and fangs as sharp and trim as possible.”
That made everyone else gasp. Then gulp out loud. Ash. Snow. Mandy. And Amber.
All at once.
The oppressive silence … the quiet echoed even louder than the menacing growl before.
Especially when Snow's mom lunged at Snow.
Shoved the blade into her gut.
Ripping it up. The wet sound of flesh and bones sliced apart slowly.
The pain twisting Snow's face.
When Snow's mom yanked the blade out. Grabbed her daughter's shoulder.
Then flung her toward Ash. Beside him.
Snow's bloody gasp ending when she crashed down beside him. A whimpering moan escaping her lips as she turned her head at him.
“Sorry,” she said, “If only …”
That expression ... so much like Amber as she died so often in her favorite plays …
But Ash rubbed her elbow. Enough strength remained for that.
Her fur was as soft and silky as it looked. Strange how much that comforted him.
“You tried,” he said, “I'm sorry for –”
A weak ack rang out from Mandy.
Snow's mom had plunged her blade into the catgirl's gut. Ripping it up to her chest.
Then flung her down hard to the ground. Her body cracking against the cobble.
Landing beside Ash. His other side.
Coughing up bloody gasps.
Amber cried, “Master!”
Before Snow's mom grabbed her boob. Pressed her forearm against the other.
Then plunged the blade up diagonal through Amber's side. Till the tip broke through her opposite shoulder.
Her electric blue eyes foggy with fear.
Ash's throat too tight to speak.
“You're no longer needed,” said Snow's mom, “Fade out now.”
And her eyes turned empty.
Face lifeless.
“As you command,” Amber said. No emotion in her dead voice.
Then Snow's mom ripped the blade out. Flung her body down beside gagging Mandy.
But after the thump, Amber didn't move at all.
Yet Ash could find the strength to stand back up. His legs too weak to listen. His arms barely able to rub Snow's elbow anymore.
When a familiar roar erupted what had to be a dozen feet behind Ash.
“What did you do to him, you bitch!” screamed Penny.