My vision began to blur and no matter how I struggled, her balance barely wavered. She pressed harder, the psychosis spreading through her dark gaze like a plague. Shewantedto kill me. Shehatedme and I didn’t know why.
“Why you?” she whispered. I could barely hear her over the sound of my own pulse thrumming in my ears like a drum. “Why you? Why does he wantyou? Why does anyone want you?”
And then a loud pop echoed across the square and her body jerked, blood spurting from her shoulder and landing across my face, cold and smelling of salt.
A wicked, crazed smile spread across her face and that same, empty laughter rose up from her chest as she shifted her foot from my neck.
I coughed, desperately searching for a full breath, but already I felt my throat swelling with bruises.
Another pistol fired and the other sirens began to scatter, sprinting into the darkness like a pack of dogs. Lifting my head, I could barely see anything in the foggy, firelit square, but I could hear it all. Women screaming wildly. Pistols firing. Blades slashing. Lyla slowly turned around to watch, unaffected by the brutal battle happening around us. In fact, she almost looked bored, like the candles in her mind had been blown out.
I frantically searched the madness for Vidar, every detail of my dream coming to me like a tidal wave, making my heart beat out of my chest. When I saw him running toward me, nothing but a dagger in one hand and a pistol in the other, I felt that panic choking the life out of me with more force than Lyla’s foot had.
“Don’t,” I said through a wounded windpipe. “Don’t.”
But he couldn’t hear me and I couldn’t stop him.
He lunged toward Lyla, but she twisted out of his path as effortlessly as vapor from a breeze, sidestepping him only for another bullet to rip through her hip. She stumbled to the ground, her hands clutching the wound.
Vidar dropped, sliding the rest of the way on his knees toward me, and quickly sliced through the leather ropes.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I rasped.
“Hold onto me, love,” he said, smelling of blood and gunpowder.
I glanced around for Lyla and saw blackened smears of blood across the ground leading into the shadows.
Vidar slid one arm under my bottom half, hoisting me toward him. I knew I weighed more than usual with the added mass of my tail, but he lifted me off the ground with nothing but a grunt to betray the effort he was putting forth.
“Now!” he bellowed.
From the darkness came a barrage of small flames. I watched one arch over us and noticed it was attached to a small bottle. It crashed against the ground at the feet of two crazed villagers and set them alight in a ripple of flames. Another shattered in front of a blood-drunk siren, splashing the cotton of her chemise and setting her ablaze as well. I gripped the collar of Vidar’s jacket as he ran, wishing I could will my legs back into existence so I wasn’t such a burden. I felt heavy and useless, my ribs throbbing and dripping blood. My tail dragged on the ground.
As we fled from the square, I could see familiar faces emerging from between the tight buildings. Mullins. Meridan. David, even.They were throwing bottles of fire in our wake, creating a wall of flames between us and the pursuing sirens.
But my gut told me it wasn’t over. It couldn’t have been. Lyla hadn’t laid a trap just for it to fall apart like it did.
You are only on these shores because we let you in. We won’t let you out.
Her words rang in my head like a humming bell. Everyone was heading for the beach and all I could think about was what might be waiting for us when we got there.
“No,” I forced, fighting the swelling pain in my crushed throat.
“Don’t talk,” Vidar said.
I held him tighter, praying to Lune that the shores would be empty when we arrived.
We cleared the buildings and emerged at the docks. Under the moonlight I could see the boat at the end of the rickety, rotting planks, waiting for us.
But someone—something—was blocking the way. Three figures, tall and misshapen, uncurled from squatting positions to a height of nearly seven feet, their spines hunched and their limbs long and corded with muscle. Vidar and the others all slid to a stop.
“Pretty siren,” one said, his voice deep with an eerie rattle that made it entirely inhuman and unpleasant to listen to.
“Good to eat,” another said. “Better than human meat.”
“I have to drop you,” Vidar said to me, releasing me from his grip to pull out his pistol again.
“No,” I gasped as I watched him take up arms against the xhoth.
