A part of Kit broke apart at hearing that Lawrence hadn’t eventriedto come after him. All those years of hiding, of dyeing his hair and wearing disguises and not leaving a trace of himself anywhere. It had all been for naught; a pointless endeavour that only served to chip away at his soul.
“Oh, have I upset you?” Lawrence’s sneer looked all wrong on Quin’s face, twisting his features into something grotesque. “What a shame. I hope you’ll at least be grateful knowing that I’ll let Quin live. Granted, he won’t have freedom, but he’s already a slave to the full moon. It’s not a significant further step.”
Kit’s claws lengthened, and he fought to raise his arms. Jack’s presence inside him was fading, as if he were slipping away. At the corner of his vision, Matthew’s form flickered in and out of existence.
Let go, Jack. Please.Kit tried to keep calm as he spoke to Jack in his mind, not wanting to send him into further panic.
“I’m going to set this place alight,” Lawrence said. “You’ll be my tinderbox, Christopher—the kindling that starts the fire that takes the rest of them out. So good of you to offer yourself up like this.”
Jack, it’s now or never. He enjoys listening to the sound of his own voice, but even he won’t go on forever.
“Let us go,” Jack demanded of Lawrence.
“Never.” Lawrence gripped Kit harder and spun him around, the side of his face and neck dipping into the sun’s rays. Kit’s scream was audible this time, scratching through the silence like the wrong note being played on a violin.
Without warning, Kit was thrown across the hall, hitting the wall with a thud and falling to the floor. Spasms of pain racked his limbs. It felt like his skin had been sloughed off and left raw.
“Fuck,” he swore as he pushed himself into a sitting position, as far as his aching body would let him go. It took him a second to realise he’d said it out loud. “Fuck,” he said again, just to make sure.
He whipped his head up. Quin shook, his chest heaving as he inhaled one shuddering breath and then another. Exertion flushed his face.
“Quin?” Kit asked, scared to even voice the question. Lawrence wouldn’t have shoved him out of the sun. Kit spared a glance for his arms, wincing at the ripe blisters and blackened patches.
Quin—or Lawrence—whicheverof them it was, fixed Kit with a look he couldn’t decipher. Kit pressed himself up against the wall, trying to leverage himself up, but failing. Matthew moved in front of him, his form transparent enough for Kit to see through.
Quin fell to his hands and knees, fingers digging into the wood floor. When Quin’s neck rolled and faced Kit, he resembled the beast he turned into, teeth bared in a grimace, dark hair falling over his face in a tangle. Kit braced himself for an ambush, but Quin’s battle stayed internal.
Kit closed his eyes for a second. He didn’t have much fight left in him, not if Lawrence prevailed. Kit wasn’t even supposed to be awake during the day. The mere presence of the sun seemed to sap his energy. Everything in him urged him to go to ground, and his fangs throbbed. He’d need blood, and soon.
A sob rose in his throat as he wondered if he would ever heal.
Kit had been powerless in his life many times before. This time, however, he was not only unable to help himself, but he couldn’t help Quin.
“Kit.” Quin spoke through gritted teeth. “You gotta go somewhere. Run away. Hide. I don’t think I can hold him.”
“Where? The sun’s still not down. And I’m not leaving the others.” He wouldn’t do that to Shaun, especially.
Not again.
Quin spat blood out onto the floor.
Kit’s stomach twisted. “What was that?”
“He made me bite my tongue, the prick.” Quin’s head shook spasmodically, a dozen expressions crossing his face in a second.
“You can fight him off, Quin. I know you can.” Kit swallowed around a lump in his throat. “You’ll do it for us.”
“Foryou, baby boy. I’d do you anything for you.”
Kit flinched as Quin let out an animalistic roar. If Kit didn’t know better, he’d have expected to see a wolf in Quin’s place. But, no. The cry of frustration that came after was very human. With a sudden burst of movement, Quin flung himself against the wall opposite Kit. He slid down it, coming to rest on the floor until they were in twin slumped positions.
Matthew and Thomas hovered between them, silent as ever, but watching every movement with close scrutiny.
“He’s raging inside my head,” Quin said, panting. “But I’ve got him.”
“You’re stronger than him.”
Quin winced. “I’m not. I’m the weakest in this house.”
