And Garlen’s voice, loud and directed up the stairs, “Sloane. Stay in the safe room. Do not come out.”
And then that sound. That roar.
Ellie is holding Zoe, the little girl’s face buried in her mother’s neck, whimpering softly. “Mama, what’s happening?”
Laurie stands near the door, face white but composed, one hand on Ellie’s shoulder. Loki whines and paces in circles at our feet.
I put my palm on the door. “I know what a scent bomb does and I know Garlen means well, but I think I need to get out there.”
“Sloane,” Ellie cries, “he said not to go out.”
I look over at Ellie, who told me everything. I know the entire story of how Garlen was in the basement of this very house, the chemical mist combining her scent with synthesized distress pheromones. His body transformed into that huge orc-beast we all saw that went viral on social media. Bones stretching, tusks extending, muscles growing until the chains that were forged specifically to contain him shattered like cheap metal. He busted through a reinforced steel cage door the ran barefoot in the snow, across town to the school because his brain told him Ellie was in mortal danger. The whole town watched as he charged across the parking lot.
Anna also told me how a canister was thrown directly at Keric’s face. The red haze, the instant transformation. He grabbed her, throwing her over his shoulder while she screamed, running for miles into the mountains to a cave. She calmed him by touching his chest and speaking his name. And even feral and out of his mind, he stopped and asked for her consent before mating. Shaking with the effort. Because modern orcs don’tkidnap. Even when every cell in their body is telling them to take.
I shake my head. “I know the danger. The feral state strips rational thought. The orc’s body is flooded with the need to protect, to claim, to take. And the feral doesn’t ask for consent. That’s why Garlen stayed chained all winter.”
Heavy footsteps are on the stairs. Three at a time. The whole staircase shudders under his weight.
“Jonus, stop.” Aldar’s voice from below, strained.
A crash. Someone being thrown aside.
More heavy footsteps. He’s at the top of the stairs. I can feel his presence through the steel door. Heat radiates through the metal, warming the surface under my palm.
I think about Ellie at the school parking lot. Everyone else ran. The teachers, parents and children were screaming and scattering. But Ellie walked toward Garlen, she stepped between him and the chains his family brought and said “He doesn’t need chains. He needs me.” She took his hand and walked him home.
I think about Anna in the cave, pressing her palm against Keric’s burning chest. Saying his name calmly and without fear, trying to bring him back.
Both women walked toward the feral. Not away from it.
If I stay behind this door, what happens? He breaks through eventually.
But if I open the door?—
“Don’t.” Ellie’s voice is strained, tears streaming down her face. “Please. Stay here.”
“Honey, he’s not himself right now,” Laurie adds.
I look at Ellie. “You walked toward Garlen at the school. When everyone else ran, you walked toward him.”
Her face crumbles. “That was different. I could see him. I knew?—”
“You knew he wouldn’t hurt you.” I hold her gaze. “I know the same thing about Jonus. I think Garlen wants me to stay in here because he’s worried that if I let him in he might accidentally hurt one of you.” I reach for the lock and look back at them. “So I’m not going to let that happen. Once I’m out I want you to immediately lock the door behind me and leave me out there with him.”
“No,” Laurie wails. “Sloane…
“Yes,” I hiss. “Do it. Lock this door. He won’t hurt me.”
And then, I open the door and step out.
Holy crap. Jonus fills the hallway, barely recognizable as the orc I’ve grown to love. He’s grown several inches taller, his muscles swollen to impossible proportions, his clothes hanging in shreds. His tusks jut from his lower lip like ivory daggers, longer than I’ve ever seen them. His horns have grown into wicked curves that scrape the ceiling, scoring the paint. Steam rises off his green skin and his eyes are completely black. No white remaining.
Claws extend from his fingers, gouging the walls where he’s been bracing himself. An enormous erection strains against what’s left of his torn pants. He’s everything an ancient orc from ten thousand years ago would have been. The thing human mobs with pitchforks hunted in the mountains. The monster mothers warned their daughters about.
I hear the door lock behind me.
He looks down at me with those black eyes and lets out a mournful roar. Jonus takes a step toward me. The hallway floor cracks under his weight.
