I don’t know why, but the prospect of my Little Kitten riding on my back has been something I’ve been dreaming about these last few weeks. I’ve wanted to show off my speed and my strength, show her I’m just as good as the freaking dragon. I have to admit – it’s even better than I imagined. Her hands in my thick fur, her legs straddling my back, her wet pussy pressed into my skin. I get an up-close and personal whiff of it here, and it smells divine. It would be enough to have me whistling cheerfully if I were in my human form.
With Briony on my back, we’re able to pick up our speed a bit, although still not as fast as we should be. Beaufort has us walking a different route this time, and even still I’m surprised we see no demons swirling in the sky and no more appearances from the Madame. I wonder where that swirling tornado of shadow magic has taken her – whether she’s gone to another realm completely, another place, another fucking universe. Who knows? Maybe it’s the last we’ve seen of her. Now wouldn’t that be good?
However, I have a feeling it’s too good to be true.
After a while, Little Kitten yawns loudly and lies down flat on my back, wrapping her arms around my thick neck and resting her cheek in my fur. A few minutes after that, I hear her soft, sleepy breaths, and if we weren’t in the demon realm, I’d be knocking her off my back, snuggling up with her on the ground, licking her soft cheeks, her pink lips, and somewhere else too, somewhere between her legs.
These thoughts occupy me and keep me amused as we walk onward. One of these days I’m going to have her in my wolf form. I’m going to lick her out in my wolf form. I’m going to bury my snout in–
“Dray,” Beaufort snaps from behind me, and I turn my head and realize I’m several meters ahead of the others. Reluctantly, I stop and wait for them to catch up.
“How much further?” Thorne asks when we’re all together again, whispering so as not to wake the sleeping Kitten.
Beaufort pulls the map from his pocket and studies it, Fox looking at it too over his shoulder. “A couple of hours,” he says. “We’ll be coming in from the south, close to the Polkon town in Slate Quarter.”
I look at him. I can’t speak in my wolf form – not words anyway – but my senses are enhanced, especially my sense of smell. And I was right – there’s something off about Beaufort. I can smell an aroma, a scent I’ve smelled only rarely before on my bond brother. It smells suspiciously like fear, and that sends an unease through my body.
Beau’s never scared, never frightened. Not when we face demons. Not when we’re fighting for our lives. In fact, the only time I think I’ve ever smelled that before was when it looked like we might lose the Kitten. Is he worried that’s going to happen again? And why? We’re practically out of this place now. The demons have not shown their faces again and Madame Bardinis hopefully far, far away. So what is it that has made Beaufort Lincoln so scared – and why isn’t he telling us about it?
“Let’s stop for a moment,” Thorne says, and we pause, Beaufort passing around what little water there is left. All the food is long gone. Beaufort pours a little water out into his hand and I lap it up gratefully. The professor has nothing, and the Little Kitten on my back doesn’t stir at all. She’s completely, 100% passed out. If I couldn’t feel the press of her body – warm and breathing on top of me – I’d be concerned.
Beaufort peers out toward the distant horizon. “We’re nearly there. Let’s keep going.”
Finally, we reach the border. We can see the magic glistening in the air where our realm meets the demon realm – the magic that keeps the demons out and keeps our realm protected. Apart from my Little Kitten herself, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful. Even in the dark and gloom of this realm, the magic sparkles and shimmers like the stillest of lakes on a bright summer’s day.
All of us pick up our pace, each of us scanning the skies and the horizon, not quite believing that we are going to reach the border without at least one more altercation with the demons that lurk in this realm. But none come, and soon we’re just yards away from the border.
I try to peer through the magic at our realm that lies beyond, but the view is distorted, like looking at a land underwater.
“Can you see anyone?” Beaufort asks Tudor, like he’s half expecting a welcome party waiting for us on the other side.
The professor peers that way, scanning left and right. “I don’t think so,” he says. “It looks safe.”
I drop down to the ground and softly roll the Little Kitten from my back. She’s so exhausted she barely stirs, curling up in a ball, and drifting back into sleep. I nudge her with my snout and when she blinks open her eyes, I drag my tongue up her cheek.
“We’re here, sweetheart,” Beaufort tells her. “At the border.”
She snaps up to sit, blinking and dazed, and swings her gaze around until she spots the magical barrier hovering in the air. Then she’s jumping to her feet and I shift back to my human form, Thorne dropping my bag by my feet so I can pull on my clothes.
When I’m done, the five of us stride closer until the wall of magic is right in front of our noses. It has a vibrancy of its own. It seems to hum in the air, and there’s a heat that radiates from it.
“Last time we passed through,” Little Kitten whispers, head tipping back to follow the barrier right up to the dark sky, “I was so desperate to reach Fox and complete our mission that I barely registered the magic or how it felt, but this time it’s so much more imposing.”
“Wanna hold my hand?” I offer, grinning like a cat who caught a mouse when she takes it.
“Ready?” Beaufort asks.
We all, on instinct, take a deep inhale and step towards the magical barrier, ready to be let in, ready to re-enter our own realm and leave this shitty place behind us. But as each of us hits the wall of magic, instead of penetrating through its walls like we should, it shoots us backwards through the air, all five of us landing on our asses with a thump.
“What the hell?” I say. “What the actual hell?”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Briony
I look towards Beaufort. “I’m assuming that wasn’t meant to happen.”
He glares at the wall of magic and shakes his head. “No. No, the magic’s designed to repel demons and admit shadow weavers like us.”
