Both of us kept our packs on while we climbed, despite their bulk. Granted, mine is basically empty at this point. I’ve used nearly everything I had, and most of what Maven and Scriv had. I even rigged up Scriv’s blower machine in the west room—it created the gust that blew those feathers all over Slaughter.
Maven and Scriv’s packs are beneath the map table now. Since Slaughter stripped away my secondary weapons, which are now scattered all over the room, I’ve got nothing left except the knife I adopted from Ravager.
Shifting closer to him, I ask a question under my breath. “Should we fight it?”
“Depends on what it looks like,” he replies. “Maybe it will sniff around and go away.”
“I don’t think so. It’s not just a beast. It’s clever. I think it uses those voices to scare its prey.”
“But is it actually clever, or is it just regurgitating the sounds of the people it has swallowed?”
“We’ll have to observe it and make a judgement.” I press my hand over his mouth to stop his response, because a dark bulk has appeared in the doorway.
Now that it’s in the same room with me, the monster is ten times more horrifying than when I observed it through the sphere. Its bones shift and its lungs heave beneath skin the color of old blood. Its six armlike limbs lift with an odd, prowling grace, but its paws fall heavily. I suspect that it could be quiet if it wanted to, but it would rather exaggerate its footsteps to frighten us.
Ravager points to his own eyes, then to the horns that extrude where the monster’s eyes should be. I shrug. I’m not sure if the absence of eyes means that it’s blind, or if it has eyes hidden somewhere. Maybe it possesses other organs of perception that we don’t understand, like that fan of fragile, ribbed skin behind its skull. We can’t make assumptions or take anything for granted.
The creature’s two prehensile tails snake out, probing the area as it paces forward. Four nostrils near the end of its red snout wrinkle and flare. It approaches Slaughter’s body and snuffles around for a moment. Then it opens its three fanged jaws and sends out a long, thick tongue, more like a tentacle. The tongue coils around the corpse and drags it into the monster’s maw.
Closing its mouth with a satisfied smack, the beast swallows noisily, then raises its head and sniffs again. Like it can smell us.
I’m still covering Ravager’s mouth with one hand, while the other is braced against the domed roof. But when the monster looks up, I realize that I’ve also shrunk closer to my rival, as if I want comfort or protection. I’d be a fool to think he can provide either of those things.
I focus on the twinge of pain between my ribs, the place where he started to stab me. Granted, he did it half-heartedly and didn’t go deep, but the pain still serves as an excellent reminder not to trust him. I renew my grip on his mouth and jaw, hoping the press of my fingers hurts him.
Ravager is holding onto a rafter with his left hand and touching my waist with his right… no, he’s not going for my waist, he’s easing his dagger out of the sheath at my hip.
That dagger isminesince he refused to swap. He can’t just take it, and I definitely don’t want him having both of the weapons while I have none.
I let go of his mouth, knock his fingers away from the knife hilt, then aim a punch at his jaw. He catches my wrist, pulls my hand to his lips, and kisses my knuckles with a wink that’s mockingly penitent.
Fuck. You.I mouth the words at him.
The beast is no longer testing the air. Instead it’s prowling among the pedestals, sniffing at the fallen spheres. It doesn’t open its maw again, which is a relief.
After a few minutes of exploration, it settles down by the door and folds its six limbs beneath its gaunt bulk. Is it going to sleep?
Fuck,Ravager mouths at me, and I nod. As long as the beast is there, we’re stuck in the rafters. Our only options are to wait until it leaves, or fight it—which could be disastrous since we’re both exhausted and injured.
I lean toward Ravager until my lips graze his ear. He shivers when I whisper, “Do you have any medical supplies? Tonics?”
He shakes his head and replies under his breath, “Needle had those. I don’t know where his pack is.”
“Boulder had ours,” I whisper back. “All I have is a little stitch-up kit.”
Ravager’s eyes bore into mine. “So your crewwashere. Where is Boulder right now, Devilry?”
Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. “None of your business,” I reply, a little too loudly.
The monster stirs. The fan on its neck lifts, and its twin tails writhe upward, questing through the air.
Ravager claps his fingers over my mouth this time. On impulse, I slide my tongue out and taste his palm. Warm and salty.
He looks at me, surprised, a hint of lust in his eyes.
I turn my face to the side and take his central finger in my mouth. Again, it’s impulsive and stupid, but he likes it. Even in the gloom up here, I can see his pupils dilate.
I suck his middle finger gently, then push it out of my mouth with my tongue and breathe words into his ear again. “If I knock you off your perch and feed you to the beast, maybe I can escape.”
