It stumbles.
Luca hisses in pain.
And two shadowy figures hurtle from the monster’s back.
FOUR
Monster Realm Survival Tip #2:
Adapt to the cold or die.
CELINE
I’m not sure if this monster skipped multiple steps in the evolutionary process or if my lack of scientific know-how is rearing its ugly head once again. I’ve never seen anything like it.
That’s a problem for later, because my gut is telling me exactly who’s driving this beast, and he’s going down. Powered by rage and desperation, I collide with the masked, soon to be dead man and knock him off the giant alligator’s back.
My stomach somersaults as we hurtle toward the ground.
It’s a long fall, and I intend to make the most of it. Because only one of us has wings. I shoot mine out wide and slice through his mottled cape. Tufts of fur from the hood get yanked away by the gusting wind.
I lash out again.
He grabs the tip of one of my wings, grunting when it slices through his hand. Then his body morphs into an angel’s. I sneerwhen I see that he got his wings wrong. They’re too small to carry his weight and about as useful for flying as my blades.
Copycat wings or not, his bones will shatter when we hit the ground. If any make it through intact, I’ll take care of them manually.
Planting my feet against his gut, I brace to kick him away so that I can glide the rest of the way down. He locks his hand around my ankle and squeezes. “Shall we both die then, darling?”
I grit my teeth.
With two sets of deficient wings, we’re not falling fast, but we’re certainly not flying.
It’s a jerky tumble instead of a freefall.
I drive my other foot into his jaw.
The bone cracks—I hear it—but he doesn’t let go.
I kick him again.
The bastard latches on to my other ankle.
This cold has robbed me of my speed. I’m lumbering and predictable.
The ground is coming up fast, but I can take the hit.Probably. I have to hope he can’t. It’s the only option I have left. Focusing everything I have, I beg my wings to retract.
For once, they listen to me, and our speed picks up. Latched on to me, his wings can’t support our combined weight. We’re going to crash, and we’re going to crash hard.
“Bold,” he grunts, adjusting his wings as he tries and fails to find a good angle to slow our descent. “Incredibly bold. I’ll see you in the arena, darling.”
I frown.
He flips us and puts his back to the ground.
Then we hit, and everything goes dark.
I come to in layers.
