Alyson Noel - Horizon

Though the moment he catches me looking, his admiration is replaced with such deeply penetrating menace, it’s all I can do to stay calm.

“You saw what I did to my cousin,” he growls. “Saw how easy it was.”

“I watched the whole thing.” I press my knife to my side. “I could hardly keep from cheering. I hated Gabe too.”

He cocks his head, curls and uncurls his fingers, as though weighing my words.

“You did the world a favor, Dace. Heck, you did Marliz a favor. Gabe really was embarrassing, annoying, a total misogynist, a major thug, and his jokes were truly stupid. Good riddance, I say.”

“And you know what I say?”

He moves toward me and it’s all I can do not to flee. Repeating to myself over and over that Dace is in there. Somewhere. He has to be.

“I say you should’ve run when you had the chance.”

“I won’t run from you, Dace.” I square my shoulders, remain fixed right in place. If I can keep addressing him by his name, it might manage to penetrate. “Not while you’re still in there—and we both know you are. It doesn’t have to be like this, Dace. You can beat this. You can—”

Before I can finish, his jacket begins to shred at the seams, as impossibly long talons shoot from his fingers and a crown of black feathers fully encircles his head. “Seems the evidence would speak otherwise.” He shrugs, causing the sleeves to fall to the ground just beside him.

I tighten my grip on the athame, try to follow Chay’s advice and listen to my heart. But with the beast quickly closing the gap between us, any wisdom my heart may contain is drowned by the blare of impending defeat.

I take an awkward step back, but the move comes too late. His reflexes now lightning fast, his strength greatly multiplied, he easily catches me by the wrist and squeezes so hard I’m afraid it might snap.

“All those incessant workouts, all of the magick, and daily six-mile runs, and you’re not even going to try to put up a fight?” He hauls me up against him until my back is flush to his torso, tightening his grip until my fingers fall limp, the athame drops to his feet, and he kicks it well out of sight long before I can even attempt to summon it back.

“I’m here to fight the enemy, not you. You seem to forget that we share the same goal. We’re both after the Richters and there’s no reason we can’t defeat them together.”

He laughs, nudges his face against mine. The move releasing a hail of feathers that spill onto my cheek. “I work alone,” he growls, the sound primal and deep. “I’ve no need for partners.” He runs a finger down the center of my chest, lingering for a moment over the key as though it sparks a distant memory, making him reluctant to proceed.

I suck in a sharp breath, praying I’m right, when he centers a talon as long and sharp as a switchblade right over my heart.

“Unlike you, I don’t rely on knives and blowguns and silly talismans that only work on a whim,” he says. “My body is the only weapon I need. I could kill you in the span of a heartbeat.”

“That must make you feel very powerful,” I mumble, trying to ignore the increasing numbness spreading the entire length of my arm, and focus instead on the way his finger caresses my flesh, as though protesting his words.

He drags his nail along my skin while his lips find my ear—his razor-sharp incisors rasping my flesh. “Looks like you’re about to find out.”

I squirm, try to get some blood to flow to my fingers. Instantly regretting it the moment I realize the beast misreads it as fear.

“First you’ll gasp,” he says, spurred by my distress. “Despite my numerous warnings, your denial is so deep you won’t see it coming. Then the blood will begin to gush from the wound, ruining your pretty red dress. And, not long after, you’ll be forever erased from this world.”

While there’s no doubt he could easily accomplish the task, his touch is soft and sweet, his voice as soothing as a lullaby—completely at odds with his words.

Besides, if he truly meant to kill me, he would’ve done so already.

“Your twin already tried that. Didn’t quite work out like he planned.”

“Maybe so, but this time you’re on your own. No Raven, no elders, no little glowing man to help you. You’re at my mercy now, and trust me, I have none.”

I’m not so sure about that . . .

At the sound of leaves rattling and feet shuffling the beast spins toward the noise, taking me with him. The two of us watching as Leftfoot ducks free of the bushes, his hands raised in surrender.

“Let her go.” Leftfoot risks a cautious step forward. Stopping just a few feet away, head bowed in offering, he says, “Take me instead.”

“Instead?” The beast laughs, his hot breath hitting my cheek. “Why would I choose when I can just as easily take both of you?”

The talon remains on my chest, but that’s as far as he’ll go. And despite my shooting Leftfoot a look, warning him away, he continues to approach.

“I’m the one who taught you to soul jump. I’m the one who introduced the idea of claiming the darkness. I’m responsible for who you’ve become.”

The beast roars with laughter. “In that case, I’ll be sure to thank you before I kill you. Now, don’t interrupt me again . . .”

He returns his attention to me, at the same time Leftfoot dives for his feet. The move so sudden, so unexpected, I have no time to stop him.

The beast shrieks in outrage, tosses me aside, and goes straight for Leftfoot. But before he can reach him, he falters, stumbles to the ground, and heaves a cry of agonized pain as he fumbles to his feet. Inadvertently slicing a talon across Leftfoot’s throat before lumbering away with the shaft of an arrow jutting from his left shoulder.

The entire scene unfolding so quickly, I’ve barely made sense of it when Jennika rushes from her hiding place in the bushes with a bow clutched in her hand.

“Why did you shoot him?” I scream, eyes wild as I drop beside Leftfoot and press my hands to his wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

“Are you kidding me, Daire? It’s not like I had any choice—he was going to kill you!” She glares at me, her hatred of the beast/Dace clearly marked on her face.

“No—he wasn’t. If that was the case he would’ve done so already!”

“Yeah, and how do you explain that?” She motions to Leftfoot.

“It was an accident. He lost his balance when you shot him.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“It’s—” I shake my head, seeing no point in arguing. I pull the scarf from her neck. “Here, keep it pressed here.” I place the silk over the wound, and her hands over the silk, as I get to my feet, start to move away.

“Where are you going?” she cries, her face panicked and pale, eyes wide and terrified as she looks between the old medicine man and me. The two of us helplessly watching the life force fade from his eyes.

“I’m going after Dace.”

Her eyes meet mine. “You know you have to kill him,” she says. “For God’s sake, Daire—you have no choice.”

I grasp the buckskin pouch at my neck and bid one last plea to my ancestors, begging them to come to Leftfoot’s aid. Then after looping it around Jennika’s neck, I look at her and say, “I know you’re not a Santos, but you were once deeply loved by one. The power of Django’s Bear resides in this pouch. He’ll come to your aid, but in order for that to happen, you’ve got to believe.”

She folds her fingers around it, her gaze settling for a moment on Gabe’s lifeless body with the grotesquely twisted head, before she turns to me. “Daire—I’m not joking. If you don’t do it, I will. You have a duty to protect us—or have you forgotten?”