Deep in the corners of my bleeding, pathetically scarred heart, I knew—there was no way I could walk out of this cave. Not without him . . .
Crack!A neck bent crooked. Once to the right, then to the left.
But this time, it wasn’t the Gorta—it wasme. That stirring beast. That slithering serpent. That darkness was rising withinme.
“Let.” My foot crunched the grass.
“Him.” White wisps of power flared, growing brighter with each step.
“Go.” I stared into the Gorta’s gaunt, ghostly face.Unflinching.
Those sharp, frightening eyes averted for the briefest moment. Right before a threatening smile pulled his skin taut like overstretched rubber.
“You want him for yourself?” he cackled, sickly frameshaking with amusement. “Oh no,” he tsked. “You crave a taste of somethingelse.” His features contorted, becoming mocking. Then, a lip curled, feigning pity. “Belonging? Intimacy?”
He leaned in, putrid smell gathering in my nostrils.
“Or worse . . .love,” he hissed it like a curse.
What—how did he . . . ? What kind of ability did he possess?
A decrepit, haggard finger traced down Pogue’s chest, just over his heart.
“You think a heart loyal to shadow could ever ignite the wick inside your soul?” he whispered, voice scraping over the last sliver of my patience.
Eyes trailed down to my center—fixing, studying,sensing. A silhouette of something dark ghosted his frail face.
Anger coiled hot within me, rising quick and becoming molten.
“Yours is already aflame—bound to another,” he seethed, more to himself in surprise. His features snapped to a scowl, narrowing viciously. “Greedy, gluttonous trollop! Let the famished eat!” he spat.
Nasty. Beast.
I opened my mouth, ready to unleash the most colorful words in my vocabulary when?—
Whack!
A spidery arm shot out, striking fast. Too fast.
I didn’t see it, but I damn well felt it. It slingshot me through the air, catapulting my back into the stone wall. Unforgiving pain radiated.
All the air knocked out in a single, broken wheeze. A ragged cough scraped out of my throat, forcing my body to fold over. Fingers padded the back of my head, unsure if I’d cracked it open or not.
No blood. Well, that was a good sign. But there’d definitely be blood to spillvery soon.
“You soul-sucking, skinny-dicked leech!” I screamed, using all my anger as fuel to right myself.
Without warning, all the oxygen had vacuumed out of the room. The Gorta’s grotesque mouth widened. A guttural, rasping hiss sliced a chill across my flesh.
Ethereal, plasmic mist spiraled from Pogue’s chest into that rawboned, parasitic mouth. It was siphoning Pogue’s soul.
The creature’s excited gasps made my entire body shudder.
He was taking it all . . . drinking in every last drop.
No!
Would Pogue be trapped forever inside—like the Dullahan’s whip? Tormented without end, devoured from the inside out, never to reach Soul Isle. To be at peace . . .
