It is the last thing I can do for the girl with golden skin and pretty brown eyes—
Whose berries will never again be found outside my door.
And it is the last thing I will do forme.
Not Christian Adler.
The Lesters are already peeling out of their luxuriously long driveway by the time I arrive at their estate at the edge of the city in the dark of the night.
Aster’s team will be too late to catch them.
Did it make them feel powerful?
Did they get off on the thrill of it? At evading detection for years?
Whatever the case, there’s no other option for them now, but to escape.
But no matter where they wander, their shadow will be mine… and their reckoning is inevitable.
I follow them silently, as birds do, with the cold night wind biting into my feathers. Out of the city, along the highway, and onto a small compound with an airstrip—seven jeeps in an inflexible line pulling to the side of a private airport.
How clever.
The Lester family gets out of the vehicle in the centre of the line and they are immediately flooded by their men on the left and right, some holding luggage, others holding guns and scanning the surroundings for threats.
But I don’t think they’re prepared for what I am.
Their leader—their Don, I’m presuming—is a big man with strands of grey mixed into his short, black hair, wearing a grey suit, now rumpled from haste. He has two sons, both about Reuben’s age and build, and one daughter donned in chic furs.
Savanna Lester. The firstborn daughter, and acting Head of the family.
There you are.
I land amongst the trees on the edge of the property, barely touching the ground before shifting again—
This time into a large black bear.
My roar is staggering as I emerge from the trees along the edge of the airfield. It shatters the silence so suddenly that all of Lester’s men are frozen with shock.
I couldn’t be more than fifty-three yards away when they finally scatter like mice, with only a small group of six pulling the Lester family forward and towards the airstrip, barking orders frantically.
Their bullets can’t pierce my skin—I’ve reinforced it so much they bend on contact—they fall to the ground without leaving a wound. Without leaving a bruise.
I tear through them with claws and teeth. I rise onto my hind legs and delight in their fear, delight in their helplessness.
Their blood coats my fur; it’s metallic and disgusting on my tongue. When they give up and start to run, I don’t give them the chance, I shift again.
This time into a wolf as tall as a man, with black fur.
The form is lighter. Faster. It allows me to chase them. To grab them with my teeth and shake them until their skin tears apart. Until I've severed their limbs.
When I tire of it, I shift into a snake. I fall upon those who have formed clusters. I inject my venom into their neck, jumping from man to man. Wrapping my body around their throat and opening my mouth wide so they see their death clearly in my eyes.
The last monster is one I’m familiar with—a tall tiger with white and blackfur.
I sink my fangs into the shoulder of one of Lester’s sons, whose scream is both ghastly and inelegant.
I rip his shoulder from his body, and when he falls, his sister screams.
