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Killer. Coward.
He had reached her. Rough bark stuck to his hands, sweaty with desire, antic.i.p.ation. Night cloaked him, but he still stood in shadow, drinking in the moments before he was realized by his prey.
She asked for it.
Kill her.
He released the blade from his mouth and painted his lips with its excess spit.
Kill her.
His breath quickened, revealing his presence. She quickly turned and his body began to tingle.
"Let's see what's under that blanket, girl."
Before she could scream, run, fight, feel, process, he was on her. She landed with a thwack on the wooden porch. Her blanket torn open as he sat on her twisting bare stomach. Four spider fingers fought past her teeth and pinned her tongue.
"Shh, shh, shh, don't cry. It's gonna be fun."
Thirteen.
Sol awoke to find the s.p.a.ce next to him empty and the sun silent.
Every room.
Vacant, alone.
But the front door open.
"Aurora? Are you out there?"
New feeling flooded.
Panic, misery, denial, anguish tore from his stomach, splashed at his feet, and bought Sol to his hands and knees.
"Nononononononono." Whispers.
He crawled to her.
Innocent, beautiful.
Her mouth, eyes open. Her body, too white.
Too changed.
Only two colors: Dirt.
Blood.
Brown and red fingerprints painted morbid petals across her slashed frame.
So much blood.
Too much blood.
And a word.
He saw it as he bundled her back in the blanket.
She looked so cold, alone.
She looked so cold, alone...dead.
A word carved.
A word carved into a cheek.
FREAK.
He touched the leathery lettering. She had left him one last gift. Images flicked through his mind.
Of a man.
Of a knife.
Of Below.
A new emotion began to breed beneath his skin.
Rage?
Yes.
Always.
He tucked her into his bed.
Keeping her safe.
And robotically exited his home and stepped off the edge of the deck.
Dry leaves crunched under bare feet as he landed.
Blood, her blood, had dripped a trail of success that led to Below.
Sol followed. Feet so fast, he flew.
This man was no more. This lover, friend, companion, shelter, home no longer in existence.
He had died with her.
I will kill you all.
Fourteen.
Where the hunters exited, Sol entered. Only one man on guard. Eyes closed, feet propped, watching.
The tall black figure twisted the guard's head.
Off.
Surprise.
No noise.
Only rage. Always rage.
The Other proceeded to the doorway, feeling along the walls as he went.
Blind. This is how she felt.
His throat began to descend to his stomach, and he forced it back.
Only rage. Always rage.
He reached the corridor. No one. This was their night. Their time for rest. He possessed too much power, was possessed by too much fury for their sleeping numbers to affect his plan.
I will help you rest. I will kill you all.
The nightmare drifted from cave to cave. A twisted shadow stealing life.
Collared by loss, led by wrath.
As he coasted through Below searching for more to extinguish, he smelled it.
He smelled her.
The creature rushed the scent and was greeted by a ticklish laughter. "I knew you'd come. I could feel it. Just like I felt her."
The glowing figure twirled a blade in his hands and pressed its flat surface hard down his nose lips tongue.
Eyes rolled back with every lick. "That freak."
The word was barely finished, yet the creature had pounced and pinned its prey. The wall of dirt, hard beneath the man's shoulders.
Laughter kept falling.
"It was fun."
The Other's grip on the glowing's shoulder squeezed tighter. Thumbs pushed past flesh, muscle, struck bone. "And so is this." The Other unleashed his teeth and tore down the man's face. He ripped through his neck.
Shucking skin.
No more laughter.
Only loss.
Fifteen.
Blood, death, loss, anguish, rage boiled acid in his stomach. He purged, needing to be empty, and blindly dragged himself back to the opening from where he came.
He again reached the entrance.
It had set her free and now confined him.
The sun was fading, but to this creature, his light was already gone.
He had nothing and yearned for everything.
A whisper. A name. Floated from the moon and kissed his heart.
Rheena.
Sol stepped into the night.