“Do not resist me. Come!”
The world jiggled, wanting her happy. Didn’t she want happy?
“Fuck no!” she screamed at the Thing which must be a Ghoul Lord. Must it not? She wasn’t certain. No, wait. It was the one she’d cut. She saw that buried in its memories. Ghoul Lord then,only now it was lesser, not whole. A part of one. She reached back inside it intending harm.
A micro-second later, she was thrust backward, and she toppled, screeching, striking her hip as she fell into the trough.
She clutched at her hip and swore while on one knee. Tears flowed. Emotions she did not own swirled. The Thing manipulated her or tried to.
“Die you fucker!” Again, she tried the move that’d hurt it, long ago, on Top, on the day she escaped.
It threw her probing thought aside.
“Do not!” it screamed.
“Fuck you.” Her groping, upward-reaching hand grazed the railing and she pulled herself to her feet. Her legs shook. Cyn wiped away drool. It meant to take her elsewhere and kill her. To pull her apart, turn her into pieces. She almost vomited but held it in.
“Come with me, Cyn. You know you want to.” The pretty smile slipped into place, the only part of this lopsided, rotting corpse-on-feet that appeared normal to her. A Cheshire-cat grin on a zombie.
The beasters behind it seemed puzzled but none were shocked. Despite the screaming, it held them in thrall. So close to it, none of them could resist as she did. What if she tore away the Lure?
Impossible. Too powerful, too many beasters. This Thing would be on her if she concentrated on the others.
Kill it. Why not? She straightened and pulled out her gun. Then she leaped up onto the flatter area and began to circle. If she shot now, she’d kill others. The crowd was thick. If she grappled it, would proximity let it take her mind again? Maybe.
Decisions must be made.
“I see you. What you do,” the Thing burbled, laughed. The neck skin flared with sizzling white, as did its eyes, she realized. The darkness was damaging it.
Make holes in it and it would hurt. But how to kill it?
Blasting lots and lots of holes would surely work? If it had a brain it could be hidden anywhere.
Someone plucked at her arm, and she stumbled. People wove in between her and the Thing. People stared at her. She pushed through only to find someone new elbowing her. The whispers began and they came from her friends, the Worshippers.
Violence is the answer, her mind reminded her.Death to it. Kill it. Sacrifices must be made.
Leave it alive and you will die.
Cyn smiled. Good reminder. There would always be suffering,just make sure it’s not me. This one died now. Someone would pay the price,just as long as it isn’tme.
Besides, guns are fun. Blood is good.
Let the mayhem commence.
She smiled and felt flesh move and a spurt of pain and blood in her mouth.
She unsheathed the knife with her left, held the gun high. Then she backed up and ran, rammed, shoved, sending the heavier beasters flying aside. She leaped high over their heads by using a beaster who’d slipped over in the crush as her launching pad.
People were in the way, but she began to fire.
The gun bucked in her hand as the bolts erupted. The range was short, the aim good, apart from her having to go through a few beasters who ran into her fire.
Six shots had burned the air and left fading blotches on her retinas, by the time she plowed into the Thing and carried him backward. White flared from the wounds and the thing screamed internally. Her gun was knocked from her hand. Theholes in him bled white fire and black liquid in putrid gouts. He didn’t bleed, he rotted.
With the knife she stabbed, cut through to the chest cavity in three strokes, unleashing white, eye-scalding rays. She cut at the heart. This Thing barely screamed anymore though the noise behind her rose to a roar. Seconds, all she had were those.
The Lure was strong and ripped at her thoughts. It implanted ideas and she growled and shoved them away. Untrue! False! Lies. It told her lies.
