I want to show them what it feels like to have everything ripped away.
From some distant place their screams reach me, the pained howls of an entire army brought to their knees.
They’re hurting. And I’m glad.
I want them to hurt more.
So I send out another burst.
Take this, you fuckers!
I keep going. Keep pushing. Wanting to tear them apart.
Wanting to show them the true power of the blood wolf.
Gradually, each of their lightning bolts turns red, the deep rusty shade starting at both ends, trickling down and up until it meets in the middle.
Their screams grow louder. And I know they’re suffering. I can feel their pain coming back to me. Feel the terror in their minds. And I revel in it.
I can feel their bodies beginning to tear in half.
Because that’s what I feel like having lost Jasper. Like I’m torn in two.
I want to show them how that feels. I want to split them down the middle, so their insides tumble out in messy, red clumps.
I want to destroy them.
To show them the damage they’ve done.
I want to kill them all ...
And I’m about to when, from somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear his voice.
“Max.”
I look down to find I’ve shifted back to my human form. I’m fully dressed, in a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. My feet are standing on dusty, rocky red ground. In my right hand, I can feel his, holding on to me.
Is he ... Is Jasper alive?
Somehow, back in the physical world, is Jasper awake and trying to reach me?
“Max,”he says, sounding weak.“Don’t.”
“Jasp?”I say his name, calling out to him, spinning around. But I can’t see him. All I can see is a desolate desert landscape, the sky full of crimson clouds, the lightning bolts of Axis wolves striking the ground and throwing up sand. A blood-red moon shines on the horizon.
I blink my eyes, trying to wake up, trying to leave the Lunar Plane, but for some reason I can’t.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“This is your last step, Blood Wolf,” a calm, almost friendly-sounding voice says from behind me. I turn and stumble backward.
In front of me stands an older man with long gray hair, in a brown suede jacket with shoulder pads, and tight blue jeans. He looks ridiculously normal, considering where we are, only his fashion sense is a little dated. This guy looks like he stepped right out of the eighties.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Elias,” he says. “I am like you.”
“Like me how?”
