#you give me clips i will put vine booms on it

[muppet-hell]

Me? Posting another Encore edit? Insane but yeah

[minimumwagesoul]

🎩 WELCOME… TO THE A-GAYZING RIZZITAL CIRCUS! MY GAMERTAG IS CAINE, AND IM QUEER TO SHOW YOU THE MOST OHIO-SENDING, SKIBIDI EDGING, DISCORD MEWING YOU'VE EVER PHANTOM TAX, ISNT THAT, GIGA CHAD?

🫧 'THATS RIGHT SIGMA, I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOUVE GYATT IN THE KITCHEN TODAY!'

🎩 WELL, LETS NOT GRIMACE-WASTE, LETS ISHOWSPEED RIGHT INTO THE FAMILY GUY COMPILATIONS!

🎶 banban, and goku, and big chungus too, pepe, peppino, amongus, delulu!~ 🎶 gay after gay after day we fry, as the renegade pokimane makes us cry 🎶

🐰 ''gayine, is this another goofy ahh grassy pillow again? or is this a new subscriber? cause if its a new twitch donator.. we gyatt to redo this whole mlg monologue!''

📐 ''im not doing gyatt again."

🎩 ''MY MY, IT APPEARS A SUS IMPOSTER HAS JOINED THE LOBBY!"

🤡 ''HOW DO I… LEAVE THE SIN CITY WASNT MADE FOR ME''

🐰 ''just keep edging gyatt it, that ellen degeneres for all of us''

🤡 ''what the barnacles!?!? i-i-i-i put on owlhouse and now im here? who are you baby gronks? why cant i leave floptok? how do i leave minecraft?''

🎀 ''lets all kai calm-net down, everythings gyonna be okay thugshaker, weve all been through this escape the ariana grande obby, you just need to-''

🤡 ''WHAT THE VINE BOOM IS GOING ON- what?''

🎩 ''WARNING ONE, YOU CANNOT SWEAR IN GENERAL! THE GAY-MAZING RIZZITAL CIRCUMSIED IS A PLACE TO BE CLIPPED BY ALL STREAMERS, EVERYTHING CAN HAPPEN HERE! execpt for being the biggest bird ''

🤡 ''how do i.. lightskin leave?''

🎩 ''👁️👄👁️''

🎀 ''..well.. dont make a twitlong about this but-'

🐰 ''the only way you can leave is by watching phonk nair videos''

🤡🤡 ''(TIM ALLEN SHOCK NOISE)''

📐 '':mute jax.. but hes right.. welcome to the underground, how was the fall?''

🤡 ''WHAT DO YOU MEME?"

🎀''guys… dont be straight.."

🐰 ''weve been scrolling on tiktok for years.. old finger over theres been streaming the longest''

♟️''MISTER BEEASSSSSTTTT!''

🐰 ''thats why he needs to stop it.. get some help''

🤡 ''oh.. ogay, now i gyatt it! im watching dream, i should just get in the uber!''

🐰 ''whatever you say lesbian''

🎭''..my obama prisim.." :(

🐰 ''so crane, where we dropping boys?"

🎩 ''ID LIKE TO SHOW OUR BRAND NEW MOD MY ROBLOX OBBY FIRST, OFF WE GO!''

Y2FuIGFueW9uZSBoZWFyIG1lPw

🎩 ''here we have GARTEN OF BANBAN, this is where the florida men are kept, along with the FNF mods, these mods may include- GIVE HIM BACK!!!!!!!! GIVE HIM BACK!!!!!!! HES MINEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! >:((((

🤡 '' is gyatt all there rizz?''

🎩 '' OF COURSE NOT, THIS IS.. MY SPLATOON 2 LETSPLAYS!! we dont watch my OLD videos, i w(a)(m)s racist homophobic sexist abelist terrorist watchlist slay back then.

🤡 ''(huh cat)-''

🎩 '' we stay RIGHT HERE where i can keep my 70 ALTERNATIVE ACCOUNTS!! YOULL NEVER KNOW MY MAIN."

🌙 '' IVE COME TO MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT- ''

🎩 ''DONT MAKE ME PISS ON YOU AGAIN''

🤡 ''wait whats th- HHRUEEGGEYYAHHAHAUHASGSGUGDS :vomits vomits vomits vomits vomits vomits: ''

🎩 '' WOAH!!!!!! SHES LITERALLY DOING THE GWIDDY!''

🫧 ''me too!! watch me boss!!!!!!!"

🎩 "Stop."

🤡 ''Was that an skibidi toilet I saw out there? Is gyatt a way get a weave?"

🐰 '' What toiwet? If there was a way to not be a noob vs pro im pretty sure we'd all be hackers by now. "

📐''Yeah, what are you waffling about?"

🎩'' I ASS(ure) YOU, THERE RIZZ NO EASTER BUNNY, THERE IS NO FEETFAIRY, AND THIS RIZZ NO QUEEN OF ENGLAND!''

🤡''YOUR MOM HITS IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD WITH A CHROMEBOOK CHARGER-''

🎩 '' THATS WHY YOU SOUND LIKE THE ROBLOX COIL SOUND BITCH BOI- how about we talk about roblox doors? Whats your gamer tag?''

🤡 ''my @ is… uh.. OH FUCK. ALL I CAN POST IS ☻/ This is bob. Copy and paste him so he can take over youtube. /▌ /\ ''

🎩 ''FORGOT PASSWORD? SIGN IN USING EMAIL ADDRESS.. OR MAKE A NEW ACCOUNT! ENTER NEW NAME AND NEW PASSWORD''

🤡 ''GOD FUCKING DAMMIT KRIS WHERE THE HELL ARE WE''

🎩''dont you worry your 0% rizz, your new tumblr url can be ANYTHING! Heweby acknowwedging that youw chosen name and ow names may nowt bweach the Digitaw Ciwcus usew wicense agreement stating that youw name may nowt incwude objectionabwe content. Objectionabwe content incwudes but is nowt wimited to: Sexuawwy expwicit matewiaws, obscene, defamato-wy, wibewous, swande-wous, vio-went, and ow un-wawfuw content ow pwofanity. ''

🤡'' erm… actually.. randomly generate it please. ''

🎩 ''lets see… Who is Pomni - for 300?'' (jeopardy)

🤡 ''(womp.)

🎩 ''you're right, marketable, lets try gyatt again! what do you think of XDDCC? ''

🤡 '' BIYTCH IS YOU BLIND-''

🎩 '' badonkers. dobonhonkeros. massive doboonkabhankoloos. big ol' tonhongerekoogers!!! we should start a sidequest with our new donator, XDDCC!!! ''

🐰 ''i said that at 3:20 in the original pilot''

🎩 ''YYYOUUUUUU! SOILDJABOY OFF IN IT, WATCH ME CRANK IT WATCH ME ROLL, WATCH ME CRANK THAT SOULJA BOY THEN SUPERMAN THAT, NOW WATCH ME YUUU-''

🫧'' (plays kevin mcloyed)''

🎩'' ########### ## ####### ### ### # # ##### ''

🤡 ''does anybody in this thread play minecraft-''

🎩 '' SINCE YOUR ACCOUNT IS 12 MINUTES OLD, were gonna make this simple for your ipad baby ass, a simple oklahomo powered adventure to warm you up to the pizza tower. ''

📐 ''NO!! I DONT WANT TO PLAY WII SPORTS… GRRR… eyes glow red''

🎩'' dont worry zooble/halfdemon/princess/rich/gamer/wolf/donttouchmytail/crush;secret!!! ill make it so you can play it on console AND pc! ''

aXRzIHNvIGNvbGQ

🎩 '' hello everybody my name is markiplier and welcome to gather the number lore! thats right! here in the rainbow friends playplace will be rizzed up with swifties, you gotta catch em- (COPYRIGHT)''

🫧 ''what are swifties?''

🎩 ''thanks for the ask, anon! theyre mid-''

🫧''can it run bad apple''

🎩 ''..they-''

🫧''..can it play megalovani----''

🎩'' Swifties are part of the number lore that vore everything and draw anything they rizz into! Why do these sans fangirls do this? How do you block them? thats for me to know and for you to find out.''

🤡''…what… did any of gyatt mean?''

🎀 ''oh, hes just ai generating mr beast videos, theyre content farm so the ipad babies dont go insane.''

📐''speak for yourself motherfucker, if anyone needs me im smoking a fat blunt- OH GOD OH FUCK- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa….''

🐰''oh no, they killed zooble.. you bastards.. anyway you lesbians wanna play touhou?''

🎀'' (pheonix wright) HOLD IT!! we should check on KSI-FMO. I'm pretty sure he'd like to challange XDDCC to a boxing match!''

♟️''THERES 104 DAYS IN SUMMER VACATION-''

🎀'' You wanna come with us to *check on boykisser kaufmonster, how should i feel?''

♟️''Not rizzly. I think Kevin macleoufmos got packed by packgod. Last time I spoke with him, he was watching Lankybox for over 6 hours."

🤡''whose lankybox?''

♟️''No."

🎭''can someone save my goth genderfriend :(''

🤡 '' Well if you wont tell me, then I'll just ask him. And then I'll stop watching dream and watch tubbo instead!"

🐰 ''Heh. She still thinks dream isnt a pedo."

🎀 ''why are you looking at me like that? …. fa-"

🐰 ''im fine with doing (yourmom) as long as I get to see vanossgaming gmod prophunt funny moments- OW. okay ive had enough of these spambots. You, me, and XDDCC will go to the gastation. Sexualized ribbons and tumblr sexyman together will go block all the swifties.

🎀 ''..is shipping them a good idea?"

🐰 ''of course i do, im also a tumblr sexyman, whats gonna happen? i get shipped next? (proweler meme)''

🎭 ''…my comedy cock is broken again.''

♟️''okay. wait WHAT. ''

aW0gaHVuZ3J5

🎀''Welcome to the internet, have a look around, anything skibidi or phantum tax can be found. We gyatt maximum sigma grindset, but- WAIT XDDCC NO DONT LOOK UP YOUR OWN NAME!- '

🤡 ''I dont understand.. why go to the goofy ahh meepcity parties instead of trying to exit terraria?''

🎀''Well, we usually do, when we first make an account. But after awhile you start to realize that shiny hunting for the same pokemon or trying to get your favorite animal crossing villager to visit your island will make you become marketable and youll succumb to the pibby glitch."

🐰''Thank goodness this is all just an SMP, right XDCC?''

🤡''……………………… Why are we here again? Who am i, who am i? What are you even saying?''

🎀''We're gyetting one of the boys at 3 am." … Huh. Maybe he's off-stream mining? Hope he's not in creative.

🐰''Dont worry raggedy andy, Im gonna be so racist itll open the door."

🎀 ''JAX NO!!! YOU SHOULDNT BE RACIST TO DOOR!!!!''

🐰''Okay i wont be racist… JUST KIDDING, IM ULTRA RACIST NOW. You're not afraid of gay people, are you?"

🎀''JAXX!!!!!!!!! THATS LITERALLY MY ONLY FEAR (homophobic) WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS…!!!"

🐰''(minecraft open door) im gonna have to take my balls back from you kaufy. Papyrus.. im going to grillbys, do you want anything?"

🎀 ''..OH….. KAUFMO985 BECAME PART OF THE PIBBY GLITCH. INSERT SEINFIELD THEME."

tobecontinued.

[beaubokuto]

━ i. what you broke

pairing: tobio kageyama x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au, angst

summary: prince tobio kageyama is cruel. he was known to be vindictive, revengeful, other synonyms for anger’s embodiment. you were not quite as interesting: a simple village girl with a knack for stealing things and will to kill the prince.

a/n: my first published fic on this account! i do hope you enjoy~~

tags: angst, royalty, swearing, medieval, fantasy, enemies to lovers, all characters are aged up, minor depictions of violence and death (no major character death)

glossary

next chapter

There was little to no effort as you weeded you way through the crowded streets. Though the sun shone brightly in the sky, you were nearly invisible. You needn’t a distraction as your hands skimmed the villager’s pockets and bags. You needn’t a disguise as you pocketed a fine gem from a shopping lady.

Not when you were in good relations with the general’s family.

You quickly swept through the streets and into a more quiet part of the town. The part you most disliked. There was not enough sound there, not enough places to run your hands through.

Still, it was home nonetheless.

You crouched to a stray cat and handed it a small cup of milk you had managed to obtain.

“I can’t stay long, kitty.” You whispered to it as if it could hear you. As if it understood.

The town square now behind you, you were walking towards the castle. You were not going to the actual castle, although the thought of stealing from them is incredibly tempting in a way only your mind could fathom. You were walking to a nice series of houses a little further down the hill from that.

The Castle of Kageyama sat perfectly structured on the top of a large hill. Nearly a mountain, but you were hesitant to call it as such. With towers of varying heights casted around it, the castle was almost as terrifyingly dark as the prince inside.

Below the castle were the High Order. The general and his family, knights and theirs. Cooks, messengers. Those in favor of the castle and those who work for them. 

And below that, the villages in which they rule. Dusted in browns and poverty, surrounded by lakes no one dares swim in lest they be drowned by sirens. Guarded by goblins and ogres and soldiers alike. 

They were kind if you were to them.

You were not fond of the prince. If you were being blatantly honest, you hated the man. He had no honor.

You watched as he clipped the ears of an elf who dared not bow to him. You watched as he called the city you lived in, the city he were soon to rule, filth. You watched from afar as he pointed his sword at your sister’s neck for your father’s disappearance.

And you watched as he killed her.

One day, it would be your blade at his neck.

The creaking of the door was the only sound that gave away your presence. The general peaked from the kitchen, bowl of something delicious in hand. 

“I imagine I do not wish to inquire what you have been doing?” The general asked you after you closed the door.

“You would only be delighted.” You joked. “And where is Kiyoko?”

“She’s in her room. She was at a ball this evening, so I believe she’s changing.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The general was a kind man. He welcomed you whenever you arrived, happy to allow you to eat with them in the Shimizu house. In the beginning, he was hesitant to let a foreign village girl into his home. But your friendship with his daughter quickly let him forget about that.

Kiyoko was beautiful. She was two years older than you, dark hair and bright eyes that shined beneath lenses. And one single mole under her lip. You could only imagine how many men danced with her at the ball. Women, too.

“What did you sneak this time?” She asked as soon as you entered her bedroom.

She was slipping out of a gorgeous blue dress. You paid that no mind, sitting on the edge of her bed in your (rather dirty) black cloak.

“Look!” You fanned out your items of the day.

An antique fan, a shoelace with a rubber nub at the end, varying food, a small bracelet made of braided rope, and the blue gem.

“All of this from walking from your house to mine?” She raised a brow. You nodded. 

Her eyes immediately lightened at the gemstone. “That’s a sapphire! You could sell this to Tanaka and Nishinoya for an incredible amount of money.”

“I figured it would be much, but how much?”

“At least... at least a moonful.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie. You know that.”

You were grinning ear to ear. One single gemstone may be cause of your fortune. You could apply to be a knight in the high order with a moonful.

“Put it away.” Kiyoko hushed, placing the gem into your palm. “I will phone the boys and see when they can meet. You’ll be a great knight.”

She pressed a kiss to your cheek and headed for the stairs. You followed suit, adjusting the sword that hung at your hip under the cloak.

The first time you had picked up a sword was when you were three years of age. You were a tiny thing, smaller than most and malnourished from your father’s lack of... well, everything.

You were running through the streets, playing with your older sister. Her long hair passed behind her, your three year old legs having trouble keeping up with her six year old ones.

But everything stopped when your eye caught on a sword on display at a shop.

The blade was made of pure silver, the handle carved into false blue vines that twisted into the actual blade itself. It was beautiful.

The vendor noticed your childlike wonder and smiled down at you. He came around the side of the table, picking up the blade. 

“Do you wish to hold it, little one?” He offered.

You nodded instantly. You hadn’t even noticed your sister’s return to your side, watching your infatuation with the object.

The second the sword touched your palms, you wanted to swing it. You wanted one your size. Your toddler arms could barely hold it up despite you holding it in both arms bridal style.

“I may have one your size.” He winked.

The man went behind the counter only to return with a small wooden one with a dull blade. It was not nearly as beautiful, but you could hold that one. 

“How much for it?” Your sister asked, looking through her pockets for any money she may carry.

“Worry not.” The vendor placed the blue and silver one back to his stand, and then proceeding to crouch in front of you. “You can leave with that one.”

Your sister thanked him, bowing and asking again if it were really all correct if you took it. But you were already swinging the thing around, the air around you feeling lighter and a smile on your three year old face.

“I don’t see why I must go wonder the village.” Tobio Kageyama argued. “Why must I go walk a place where I rule? This is why we have advisors.”

“You will be crowned in a month’s time, Tobio.” The king spoke. His voice was loud, booming. It commanded respect to any who hears. 

The king had the adoration of most of his kingdom. He was worried for his son, who already had a reputation of irritability and anger. He knew that he would be all correct, all kings had a different way of gaining respect.

“And tell me why we cannot crown Miwa instead?” 

“Because she is overseas. Because she is studying and to marry the sea king.” His father rubbed the space between his brow. “We have been over this many times, Tobio. No matter your rebellions, you will be crowned.”

“May I take a friend, then, if I must trudge through the grime?”

“Fine.” He huffed. “Watch your words. This grime will be your kingdom soon.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You will be kind to be careful of your tongue if you wish to keep it.”

“Yes, father.” Kageyama corrected through bared teeth. He turned to the nearest servant. A human standing at the entrance to the hall. “Call for Shoyo Hinata. Tell him to make haste, we’re going on an adventure.”

The sun was setting against the horizon. Some days, you wished that you could see it; watch the sun set over a line of a horizon. But the sun always disappeared beneath the forest’s trees that circle the town.

You imagined that the castle had the perfect view.

Kiyoko and you had dueled for a while before you left. Being the daughter of the general, she was skilled with a sword. Though she was better with daggers, she still gave you quite a fight. 

Near the end, you both were sweating. You had almost managed to overtake her. 

“Good job. Soon you’ll be better than I.”

“That is incredibly doubtful, you’ve been doing this since you were born.”

She only smiled, saying, “There is a difference, though. I was born without talent and taught to battle, trained to be this way. You were born with talent and continue to train that talent. One day, you will best me. I can bet on it.”

You were still thinking of her words as you walked through the brown paths home. Most people were doing the last of their daily shopping, reading to head home before the ghosts come out.

Kiyoko had given you a little bit of money, telling you, “For on your way home. You won’t be suspicious if you buy things on occasion.”

She was correct, of course. 

You stopped to get cheese and bread. You had some fruit still in your pockets, but food was better warm.

You thanked the vendor. You plastered your best fake smile to them, bowing your head a little in respect. 

You hated common courtesies. 

You caught a glimpse of a bracelet on a woman who was looking at a basket shop a couple of yards from you. You could leave it, return to your mission home. 

Your hands tingled in anticipation. You could not help yourself.

Before anyone could see, before anyone had the chance to even acknowledge your position at the shop, you had the bracelet unclasped and in your palm.

You truly had to give yourself the credit for your talent. 

Perhaps it was the fear of never stealing again once you enter in the knight program. Perhaps it was the adrenaline you never fail to feel when you snatch something in plain sight. No matter; you could not help but smile to yourself.

That is why your heart seized in it’s chest when you found yourself face to face with the prince.

“I do not see why you are not enjoying yourself more, Tobio.” Hinata spoke. He rode his horse a little behind Kageyama. Kageyama figured it was out of respect, but Hinata just had a slower horse. 

Hinata’s orange hair was nearly glowing. It could be from his powers, but he was sure it was from the setting sun.

“I do not wish to prance through poverty.” Kageyama told him. “Why must I get my hands dirty when we are not supposed to leave the castle for prolonged periods?”

“You get to meet people.” Hinata smiled, looking ahead. They were close enough that he did not have to use formalities, honorifics. “Don’t you wish to see what the people are doing in the place you rule?”

Scoffing, Kageyama dismounted his horse. Hinata followed suit.

It was ridiculously symbolistic, their horses. Kageyama’s was a slick black, donned in dark metal armor and piercing eyes. Much like himself. Hinata’s horse was palomino, light with white hair and white saddle and an almost smile.

They walked beside their horses as they entered the town. Almost instantly, they could feel the atmosphere change. Whispers ignited through the people. As they walked by, each one bowed in honor.

Except you.

You were too busy looking at something in your hand, eyes agleam in something Kageyama could only claim as mischief. 

He had viewed the same look in his own mirror.

When you looked up, you caught his eye. You didn’t bow, you didn’t even mutter an apology.

No common person had ever looked him directly in the eye before.

“Where is your respect?” Tobio Kageyama asked you. His voice was deep, dark. A warning.

You had to hold back a roll of your eyes. “Not with you, my lord.”

masterlist

[maple-writes]

The chapter that got way longer than I thought it would, and took way longer that I would have liked but all in all I think I’m satisfied with it! 

-------------------------------

You think I’m done with you, Cinere?

           My eyes flew open and I bolted upright in bed, heart rattling and lungs aching with shaky gasps. Dawn sunlight filtered in through half closed blinds, blue and cold. Slowly, I leaned forward, catching my breath and staring at the blanket pooled in my lap. Vena wasn’t here. It must have been a dream. A nightmare. I sucked in a deep breath and flopped backwards, arms spread at my sides before rolling over and reaching for my phone.

           6:30 AM. I squinted. A voicemail from Eventide General Hospital? I swallowed and brought the phone to my ear, the tension quickly returning to my gut.

           “Hello, Mr. Sang, this is Willow from Eventide General Hospital. I’m calling to let you know that your brother, Striker Sang, hasn’t been seen since four this morning. We’ve tried to contact him, but he isn’t answering his phone and the police have been notified. We’ll call you back if we receive further information.”

           The message ended and my eyes widened. I sat up again, legs dangling over the edge of the bed, already calling Striker. My blood chilled, but before I could raise the phone to my head, the sound of a door slamming from downstairs made me jump. Cirrus’ voice came muffled through the wood of the house and ice crystallized in my veins. His tone was tense, sharp. Something was wrong.

           I scrambled from my bed and hurried down the stairs, but skidded to a stop when Cirrus’ cut-off yelp came from the kitchen. Then came Striker’s voice, menacing and too low for me to pick out the words. I leaned around the doorway and covered my mouth to stifle a gasp.

           Striker had Cirrus pinned against the wall, one hand closed around his throat. He leaned in, nose to nose, eyes narrowed and threatening something I couldn’t hear as Cirrus struggled under his grip. He must have come from the hospital, dressed in his plain work scrubs with his ID card still clipped to his pocket.

           I stood frozen behind the lip of the doorway, staring as Cirrus struggled. He grappled until he caught the back of Striker’s neck, pulled down and drove his knee into his gut. Striker hunched over and Cirrus wrenched himself out from his grip, gasping and whirling to face him head on.

           “Bastard,” Striker spat, eyes narrowing and hands curling in claws at his side. “You—” He winced, stumbling backwards into the fridge barely catching himself against the counter.

           “St-Striker?” I crept into the kitchen on shaking legs, half hiding behind Cirrus. “What’s going on?”

           Striker’s head snapped up, eyes locked on me as a sick grin spread sharp across his face. “There you are.” He stood up straight, like a puppet on a tightened string. “Cinere.”

           No. My blood ran cold and my heart skipped. Not Striker. Not Striker. Cirrus stiffened in front of me too, feet widening. He narrowed his eyes and tucked me further behind him, shielding me from Striker—Vena’s glare.

           But he only laughed, deep and grating in Striker’s voice. “Look at you, still so brave.” He leaned sideways to try and see me, but Cirrus moved along with his gaze. “Hiding behind your him again?” His voice dripped with mockery. “Come on now, you’re braver than that aren’t you?”

           I swallowed, throat too tight to speak and thoughts buzzing too fast to put together. I couldn’t move, frozen behind Cirrus’ guard. Dark energy seeped from Striker, sharp and clouding and choking.

           Cirrus stiffened, then clenched fists at his side. “What did you do to Striker?”

           “What does it matter?” He grinned. “It’s not like he was hard to overcome.”

           Striker gagged. He wavered, barley bracing himself against the counter to stop himself from falling. The waves of dark energy flowing from him hitched for just a second. Bramble vines tightened around my heart. He was fighting it. He was trying. Could he see what he was doing?

           But Cirrus didn’t seem to notice. “I drove you off once, I’ll do it again.”

           “Oh really,” Striker stood up straight, holding unsteady arms out on either side. “You’d run him through with a filthy branch? If you’re so keen I can even do it myself.”

           “No!” The word fell from my mouth before I could think, earning a satisfied smirk from Striker. “Please, just let him go.”

           He took a step forward, sauntering towards us. Cirrus put his arm out, nudging me further backwards. Fear leapt from his touch to me like lightning between two clouds, joining my own pounding heart and stiffened muscles.

           “Don’t come any closer.” Cirrus growled. “I swear I’ll—”

           “Oh, you’ll what?” Striker raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, nose to nose with Cirrus. “Hm?” He grinned, wider and crueler than Striker should. “You can’t do shit.” His eyes flickered to me, wide and manic. “This body is good as mine now. Simple man, didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. Barely able to resist. Like taking candy from a sleeping toddler.” He narrowed his eyes. “Just like his pathetic father.”

           I shrunk away, eyes wide and staring and body trembling like a loose leaf. All I could hear was my own heartbeat, slamming against my eardrums like constant battering rain. My throat tightened, tears starting to well at the corners of my eyes until Striker’s figure blurred wet.

           He laughed, sharp and cruel. “Look at yourself Cinere.” He set his hands on his hips, cocked his head and lowered his voice. “I haven’t even done anything to him yet. I wonder how I should start?”

           “Please,” I cursed the tremble in my voice. “Why are you doing this?”

           “I could start small, cuts and scrapes…” Striker kept going as if I hadn’t said a thing. He took a small step back, raising a taunting eyebrow. “Maybe I’ll break all the little bones in his hand, one by one.” Another step back, backwards towards the doorway. “I could rip his eyes from his skull and make him eat them whole…” He paused in the doorway, sick satisfaction across his face. “But I can’t just rush into it, no.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, shoulders dropping. “I take it I’ll see you shortly.”

           Before either of us could do anything, he was gone, slipping out of the kitchen and out the door. It banged against the hinges as it slammed shut, the walls shaking in it’s wake.

           Tears broke, sliding hot down my face as my face wrenched. My shoulders shook as my breath hitched and I leaned against the counter to stay standing. I stared down at my trembling hands. Breathe. Breathe, you coward. I forced a deep, ragged breath, then another, but the tension wouldn’t leave.

           Slowly, I slid down the side of the counter until I sat on the floor, back pressed against the cupboards. My breath came too fast, too shallow, and I couldn’t do anything but stare straight ahead. Not Striker. Not striker. Not Striker. Why? I hunched forward, hands lodging tight in my hair. I couldn’t, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t—

           Cirrus crouched in front of me, face pale but eyes steady. “Asher, come on!” He gripped me by my shoulders and shook hard enough to make my head spin. “Damn it, pull yourself together already.”

           Pull myself together. Calm down. I threw my head back and sucked in a deep breath, then another, and another until I could start to think, start to feel my clenched hands again.

           “We have to go after him,” Cirrus dropped his arms and stood up, towering over me, the tightness in his shoulders the only thing giving away his nerves.

           No shit we had to go after him. I couldn’t just, couldn’t just sit here while Vena did who knows what with Striker’s body. I took a final deep breath before forcing myself to get up on wobbling legs. Cirrus looked at me, and I looked back at him, both hoping the other would speak first.

           “I,” I bit the inside of my cheek.

           What was I supposed to do? This was Vena, not some wandering spirit or trickster demon. But he had Striker. I swallowed and forced my head up, clenching my fists at my sides hard enough that my nails dug into my soft palms. Striker would do anything for me, but could I do the same for him?

           I took a deep breath, faced Cirrus and set my jaw. “I’m going to call Ginger, and we’re going to go after him.”

           He nodded, once. “Do it.”

           I turned and raced upstairs, snatching my phone from my bedside table. I dialed Ginger’s number and held the phone to my ear. In the sudden quiet of my room, my breath seemed to echo loud and booming through the small space. But on the other end, the phone just rang and rang. My heart sunk as Ginger’s answering machine message greeted me with cold indifference. I swallowed. Fine.

           Her voicemail beeped and I took a deep breath. “Ginger, I—Striker’s been possessed by my father. He’s overcome and I’m going after him.” I swallowed. “Call me back as soon as you can.”

           I hung up the phone and stuffed it into my pocket. Hopefully she would check her voicemail soon, but I didn’t have time to wait until she did.

#

With no idea of where to start, we headed in silence to Kyra’s house. If anyone would be able to track someone down, it had to be her, maybe even the rest of her family. I could only hope she would be home, and agree to help. The sun shone from clear skies, too bright and pretty for what we were trying to do. I could only hope wherever he’d gone, Striker wasn’t raising too much havoc.

           I swallowed and hurried towards the front door, but before I could knock it swung open, the doorway filled with Dylan’s snarling face. He snatched me by my shoulders and pinned me up against the wall, knocking the breath from my lungs and flooding my blood with his anger.

           “What the Hell are you doing here?” He growled, teeth shifting to fangs and claws growing from his hands, a transformation out of rage only barely held back. “You better know where Striker is cause I’m going to fucking kill him!”

           My breath caught in my throat, heart racing and blood boiling under his touch. Cirrus yelled something, but I couldn’t make out the words, unable to move under Dylan’s claws. He snarled and shook me by the shoulders, slamming me against the wall and making me yelp.

           “Talk to me you son of a bitch,” tawny fur grew along his forearms, thick and coarse. “Before I—”

           He cut himself off, jumping and turning as Kyra nipped at his ankle. Ears flat against her head and hackles raised like a spooked cat, she let go when he stepped away. Amber eyes shifted from me to him, her head low. There was blood on her dark muzzle.

           A familiar pup peered out from behind her, head low, fur standing on end and eyes stretched wide as she clung to Kyra’s side. Lacey.

           Finally released, I leaned against the wall as I caught my breath, heart loud in my ears. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Dylan pacing back and forth in the living room, flexing dark claws and snarling through jagged teeth. Cirrus stepping beside me brought my attention back though, glancing between him and Kyra.

           Cirrus slipped beside me, putting himself between me and the entrance to the living room. He watched Dylan warily. “What happened?”

           Kyra’s lips curled over sharp teeth and pink gums, ears pinning further back. Her fur bristled, and I shrunk back, eyes widening. What did he do to make her transform in the middle of the day? I’d heard once that werewolves could transform without a full moon as response to threat. My stomach tightened and I stole a glance at Lacey. What did he do?

           “Striker that’s what!” Dylan whipped his head our way, fists clenched at his sides. “Bastard.” He spat the word with concentrated venom. “Just when I was starting to trust him. I swear if I ever touches either of them again—if I ever see him again—I’ll wring his fucking neck.”

           My face paled and my eyes widened. No. I brought a hand to my face and swallowed. Then the shock faded and anger, bright and hot, took it’s place behind my breastbone. Vena. How dare he?

           “We have to find him,” Cirrus spoke first, voice as tight as I felt. He glanced down at me a moment before turning back to Kyra. “He’s been possessed by Asher’s father.”

           Kyra’s ears pricked forward, her head tilting a moment in curiosity. Dylan too seemed to pause, eyes shifty as he thought.

           “He’s despicable,” the growl in my own voice shocked me, but it was too late to stop. “I want him dead.” My fists clenched and I pushed off from the wall. “He deserves it slowly, painful. To suffer every last minute of his wretched life for what he’s done to me and Striker and his father and my mother and…” I had to stop and catch my breath, chest heaving with the fire below.

           Dylan grinned, mouth stretching too wide and face starting to distort. “Then let’s kill the demon.”

           He dropped to the floor, barely kicking off his clothes as his bones crunched and shifted, thick fur growing from his skin and a growl echoing from deep in his chest. He stood with a shake, planting all four massive paws beneath him before cantering towards us. Cirrus stared, then glanced at me with something that for a second I thought was apprehension. But I quickly pushed it out of my mind as I pushed off from the wall, heart hammering in my chest.

           Dylan stopped by Kyra, delicately sniffing at the half-dried blood on her muzzle before giving Lacey what I thought to be a reassuring lick to her check and barrelling out the door. Without thinking I ran out after him, every step hitting the pavement hard and sending shocks up my calves until I caught up.

           Cirrus reached my shoulder. “Slow down!”

           I didn’t respond, following close behind Dylan as his walk turned to an awkward nose-down jog across sidewalks and yards and busy roads. Cars honked as we scurried past, stopping just in time, but I didn’t look up from the pavement. I couldn’t. We had to find him. We had to find him now.

           Dylan’s head popped up, ears pricking forward and tail curving over his back. I followed his gaze and barely stifled a gasp.

           A dog lay on the grass ahead of us, lifeless with it’s throat cut all the way open. It’s dark blood soaked thick in the soil, and glassy eyes stared straight ahead. Behind it, the park was empty, void of the countless families that should have been there on such a sunny morning.

           My skin crawled as we stepped around the dog into the park. He’d been here, and he’d been here recently, trees and grass and air still buzzing with Vena’s cold darkness. Horror too, saturated the air and coated the inside of my lungs like a toxic mist. There was a reason there was no one here.

           “Asher…” Cirrus tugged at my arm, pointing towards an empty play ground.

           Blood stained the sand and dripped down the equipment, dark and red. Toddler strollers and children’s toys lay abandoned. My stomach turned. I could almost hear the echoes of screams, of panic, of pain that seemed to radiate from the bloodied sands.

           A growl from Dylan made me turn. He lowered his head, hackles raised, and stood glaring at the figure standing in front of us. Striker.

           Anger reignited in my chest and I grit my teeth. His hospital scrubs and hands were bloodied, his hair wild and his grin sickening. The fabric around his shoulder and lower leg was shredded, his own blood soaking it a deep red. He laughed when he saw us, sharp and shrill and not spread any farther than the mouth. I clenched my fists and lunged, but Cirrus held me back with an arm over my chest.

           “Took you long enough didn’t it?” He mocked.

           “Let him go you bastard!” My voice tore from my throat, sharp and painful.

           I struggled against Cirrus’ grip but he wouldn’t budge, holding me back from charging as Striker only laughed again.

           “Look at you,” He leaned forward at the waist, hands planted on his hips. “That’s more like it don’t you think?” He stood up straight again, hands out by his sides. “As proud as I am, Cinere, I don’t think I’m quite ready to do what you ask.”

           Dylan slowly started to stalk, circling around Striker with ice blue eyes locked on his. Striker watched, eyebrows raised in amusement.

           “Just what do you think you’re going to do?” He cocked his head. “Little werewolf.”

           Dylan leapt with teeth bared, paws ramming into Striker’s shoulders and knocking him to the ground. He landed hard under the wolf with a thud, grappling for grip on his thick fur. Dylan snapped and growled, holding him down under his weight.

           I wriggled out of Cirrus’ grasp and lunged forward, but too late. Striker dug his hands into Dylan’s fur and he yelped, high pitched and whining. Smoke seeped from under the fur as Dylan struggled, wide eyed and pushing away, but to no avail.

           “Stop!” I wrapped my arms around Dylan’s chest and hauled him away from Striker, both of us toppling to the side.

           He whined and slunk a safe distance away, tail low and the fur where Striker had touched him burned away, the skin red and blistering. I got up one knee, looking from him to Striker, Cirrus’ wound after that seaside night flashing though my head. Dylan’s burn looked painful, but it could have been so much worse.

           Striker started to rise, but Cirrus was faster, pushing him back down with a foot planted on his chest. He glared down at him, face twisting in anger as I scrambled towards them.

           “Should have finished you off when I had the chance.” Striker snarled. “Worthless waste of space.”

           Cirrus tensed and before I could stop him, Striker grabbed his leg and twisted, knocking him off balance and slipping out from under his foot. He fell, but I caught Striker by the bottom of his shirt and hauled him back to the ground. He fell sideways and I pressed him onto his back with a straight arm to his shoulder, the other hand tracing over his chest for the outline of Vena within. He writhed, hot and cold at the same time under my palm, filling every fiber of Striker’s tissues. I grit my teeth and leaned over. This wasn’t going to be easy.

           Striker grabbed my wrist and I froze. Heat seared the skin, crawling like hundreds of centipedes up my arm, up my shoulder, in my veins and into my blood, scuttling over organs and cutting off my thoughts. My eyes widened and I fought for breath, lungs failing in my invaded chest.

           His other hand gripped my hair, and he sat up, yanking me closer to his face. I cried and shut my eyes against the tears welling hot, but it didn’t seem to do anything.

           “Don’t get ahead of yourself Cinere,” Striker’s voice came in a whisper, low and rough. He laughed, a sound usually so gentle and calming, but now sent pains straight through my half soul. “You think you can get the better of me?”

           I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a whine. My heart skipped, beating fast and irregular and it hurt. My chest. It hurt. But it burned too, hot and fast and dangerous and I clenched my teeth and forced my eyes open.

           “Let,” I panted. “Go.”

           I struggled, every movement sending fire through my muscles and making me gasp for air. Then there were arms around my waist and a wolf’s teeth around Striker’s arm and the pain was gone as I was hauled off onto the grass.

           “Are you okay?” Cirrus knelt beside me, laying me carefully on my back. “Asher talk to me.”

           I groaned and propped myself up on my elbows as the first drops of rain fell. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Dylan snapping at Striker as he got to his feet, driving him back further and further away. My head spun but my heart pounded hard and rhythmic in my ears. A snarl spread across my face and I forced myself to my feet.

           “We got to…” I fought to catch my breath. “Get him out.”

           Cirrus swallowed, but nodded. “Tell me what to do.”

           What should we do? My fists balled at my sides, fingers digging into the palms. I’d felt him under Striker’s skin. He was there. If I could feel him I could take him out, that’s how it worked, right? It’s how it’d always been, right? I set my jaw and squared my shoulders. I had to try.

           “I’ve got to get up close.” I started around to Striker’s side, hoping he wouldn’t notice us with the wolf taking most of his attention. “Cover me.”

           Cirrus nodded and spread out, flanking his other side. Striker didn’t seem to notice until he lunged, grabbing him by his shirt and throwing him to the grass. I leapt after him as Cirrus struggled to hold him down, one hand on each of his shoulders as he grappled for his wrists. Striker spat and growled, glaring up at Cirrus. Dylan crouched by his head, teeth bared and muscles poised to spring as I collapsed to my knees beside him.

           “Don’t you dare,” Striker growled.

           I grit my teeth and reached, tracing the tips of my fingers over his bloodied shirt, wincing at the warm stickiness. I could feel him, Vena, pulsing like a second heartbeat under his skin. He was in deep, holding firm. If I could only find the edge, a notch big enough for me to grip…

           Striker caught one of Cirrus’ arms, digging his fingernails into the skin. Cirrus cringed, cursing and wrenching his face but holding firm. Redness spread from the skin, blood oozing from under Striker’s hand. I hesitated, but he nodded, and I set my hand back down, eyes narrowed, heart racing. He was running, avoiding me, but there he was. An edge.

           I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves, and hooked my fingers under Vena’s being. It burned my hands as I pulled, forcing it through ribs and muscle and tissue. I gasped and closed my hand tight, drawing further and further out as Striker struggled weaker and weaker. For a second hope blossomed in my chest.

           Then Vena turned his attention to me.

#

He surged forward, snaking up my arm before I could fully brace myself. Screaming, I hunched forward, clutching my hands to my own chest as he filled the cavities within. Fiery pressure pushed against my limbs, my neck, but I squeezed my eyes shut and blocked him off the best I could. Every muscle in my body tensed, locked down against Vena’s advancements.

           Didn’t think this through, did you dear? I clenched my teeth and screwed my face. Don’t call me dear. Get out. Get out. Don’t call me dear. I shivered, skin crawling and temperature dropping all the way down through my stomach. It hurt. It hurt. My heart pounded, loud, frantic, desperate, but I couldn’t let up. I couldn’t let him win.

           If only you were always this determined. Vena thrashed within me, pushing another yelp from my throat. I doubled over until my forehead pressed against the wet grass. You’re young, foolish. You’ll be on my side soon enough. It’s inevitable. I tried to shake my head, but the pain held me back.

           My heart skipped, beating desperate without rhythm. I gasped for breath, my chest aching and heavy. It hurt too, sharp and constricted. My eyes flew open as I struggled to draw breath after breath. I was dying. I was going to die, wasn’t I? My throat tightened, tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe, wheezing sharp and thin.

           Finally I found my hands, pawing at my chest. I could feel the fabric of my shirt snagging on, claws? You’re not as human as you like to think Cinere. Shut up! I grit my teeth and dug deeper, blood welling from under my claws and mixing with cold sweat.

           I found the loose end of Vena’s spirt and dug into it, hooking it with dark claws and forcing him through the muscle wall of my abdomen. Every motion hurt, like tearing the lining from soft organs cell by single cell. My body shook, breath coming in gasps and heart fluttering weakly, feeble and useless. But maybe, maybe, maybe, I could end this here. I could destroy him. I could kill him. I could…

           I tore Vena from my body and opened my mouth with a snarl, but my grip slipped, numbed by the constant heat radiating from him and the icy chill within, and he was gone.

#

I collapsed on the grass, fighting to catch my breath and silently begging my heart to beat in time. Rain poured heavy from thick dark clouds, soaking my clothes and turning the sod to mud beneath my body.

           I coughed, groaned, and rolled to brace my arms beneath me, pushing off the wet ground to pull myself up to my knees. Sounds muffled in my ears, weak behind a constant ringing from deep within my skull. Despite the downpour, my skin burned hot with sweat, and tears and blood. My blood? I touched at my chest. My blood, drawn by claws of black glass grown from my fingertips.

           A yell made me raise my head, vison spinning as I moved. Cirrus had his arms locked with Striker, trying to wrestle him to the ground but with little luck as Striker dug in his heels. Dylan yipped and lunged, sinking canines into the soft flesh of his calf. Striker stumbled, just enough for Cirrus to bring him down.

           But all he did was laugh. “You think I care if you damage this worthless body?” He grinned up at Cirrus as he pinned him down. “He’s disposable.”

           Flame erupted from Striker’s wrist, and Cirrus only barely jumped up fast enough to avoid a swipe to his head before the pouring rain put out the fire on his hand and quenched the burn.

           I grit my teeth and forced myself to stand, legs liquid under my weight. Rain drenched my shoulders, cold against the heat running through my blood. We had to, had to get him out soon. Any longer and I didn’t want to know what Vena would put Striker’s body through. At this rate he wouldn’t live until nightfall. I had to try again.

           He didn’t see me coming as I lunged for his back. I leapt, yowling at the top of my lungs and clung to his shoulders. I cinched my legs around his waist and hauled myself high enough to grapple at his ribs, trying to snatch Vena out once again as Striker staggered. He twisted and tried to shake me, but I wouldn’t budge, gritting my teeth and snarling in his ear with every movement.

           Out of the corner of my eye, Cirrus stared with wide-eyed terror.

           Striker reached around and grabbed handfuls of my hair, yanking my head up and unbalancing me enough to knock me to the ground. I landed hard on one shoulder, rolling and hissing in the mud, but quickly scrambled up to a low crouch, glaring up at him through the pouring rain and wind whipped hair. My heart raced and anger flooded my thoughts, hot and loud and blaring.

           “Atta boy Cinere,” Striker grinned and set his bloodied hands on his hips.

           I bared my teeth and narrowed my eyes, but words wouldn’t come through the flurry in my head.

           Cirrus glanced between me and him, tensed and wide eyed. “Asher!”

           But I barely heard him, eyes locked on Striker. I was going to kill him. I was going to kill him right here and now.

           I leapt again, rushing straight for Striker’s chest, but he dodged, slipping aside like nothing and grabbing me by the forearm. It burned, hot and powerful and flooding my blood with more energy than I could handle, threatening to burst the vessels and destroy the tissues.

           He pulled me forward, but without thinking I lunged and sunk my teeth into Striker’s arm. The skin tore and hot blood filled my mouth, thick and metallic. It burned the inside of my cheeks and the roof of my mouth, but the grip on my arm released. A yell tore from my throat as I let go and shoved him backwards against a trembling oak, thrusting my palm flat against his sternum.

           It was hot and wet with blood and sweat and rainwater under my skin, thrumming with demonic energy coursing just under the bone, just under the veins and capillaries and vessels. Energy coursed up through my arm, too rapid for me to try and block. My heart quickened, beating fast and hard against my ribs, but I didn’t move. Eyes locked with Striker’s I grit my teeth as the energy spread from my chest to every fiber of my muscles, my bones, my blood.

           Striker pressed against the tree at his back, face slipping for the first time from smug arrogance to something closer to worry? Fear?. I could feel it, writhing just out of reach, his soul. My breath came deep and heaving. There. Right there. I clenched my teeth, grabbed the edge and—

           “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

           I looked up and froze. Striker held the edge of a sharpened knife against his neck, his carotid artery, pressing into the delicate skin. But I didn’t draw back. Not yet, not after I’ve got this far. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t go any father. I didn’t know what he would do if I did.

           “How fitting would that be though?” Striker grinned, eyes narrowed behind wet hair plastered to his face. “If he died by his own hand, like his worthless father.”

           My hand shook. If I was fast, if I moved quickly enough, maybe I could do it. The mile a minute run in my chest seemed to think so, hammering frantic against the bone and vessels.

           He tilted his head up, exposing more of his throat to the blade, watching me as if giving a challenge. “Look at yourself Cinere, this wasn’t so difficult, was it?” His eyes flickered down and I couldn’t help but follow his gaze.

           The grass around me was dead, brown and wilted. Shadows seemed to drift around my legs like eerie mist, swirling and twisting. My eyes widened and I staggered backwards, something cold brushing my legs. A tail, dark as night with silken hair and a jagged kink.

           “If only you could see yourself Cinere.” Striker lowered the knife from his throat, pointing it instead straight towards his diaphragm. “The horns suit you.”

           “Don’t.” My voice cracked, rough with sharpening teeth. “Don’t do it.”

           Striker laid a second hand on the hilt of the knife with a cock of his head. “Accept what you are and you won’t need him anymore.” He smirked. “Oh, he loved you, more than anything in this world, but do you think he would feel the same way if he knew what you really were?”

           “Trust me Cinere, I’m about to do you a favor.”

           I rushed forward, but someone caught me from behind, wrapping their arms around my waist as someone else rushed Striker from the side. A blond ponytail swung wildly as she wrenched the knife from his hand and flung it aside before doubling back to stand in front of me, never taking her eyes off of him.

           “Stay back Asher,” Ginger swept a hand behind her and reached into her bag, drawing what looked like the hilt and pommel of a bladeless sword. “This could hurt you too.”

           She tossed her bag aside and squared her shoulders towards Striker, but I struggled against whoever was holding me back, snarling and twisting to try and bite, try and claw at their arms until I recognized Cirrus’ sleeve.

           He dragged me backwards, swearing when I dug in my heels. “Calm down Ash!”

           I yelled and snapped my head back, slamming my skull and the edges of shadowy horns against his face, but his grip stayed firm.

           “Damn it Ash,” He leaned in close, speaking right into my ear. “Breathe, just breathe. She’s got it.” He started to lower me to the ground. “He’s going to be fine.”

           Right. Breathe. Breathe. I let Cirrus sit me down on the wet ground, sucking in breath after breath into strained lungs, but I kept my eyes ahead, fixed on Ginger and Striker not that far ahead of us.

           She approached slowly, deliberately, until she stood only about six feet away, sword hilt held out low to her side. “Vena, you are to release this vessel immediately.” She spoke loud, firm, even.

           But Striker only laughed, throwing his head back against the trunk of the tree. “Does that ever actually work?” He stood up straight, hands on his hips. “This your first rodeo or something?”

           “I’m going to ask you only one more time.” Ginger cut through his words. “Leave this body or I will be forced to make you.”

           “How do you know my son anyway?” He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, looking past her towards me.

           Ginger tightened the grip on her hilt and raised it in front of her. “Very well then.” She lowered her eyes and adjusted her stance, head high. “You’ve had your chance.”

           She charged, hilt aimed forward as if there was a blade to drive forward at it’s end. Striker barely managed to duck out of the way, whirling with a growl towards her, flames erupting from around his forearms. He thrust them forward, but with a block of Ginger’s invisible sword they dissipated.

           Before Striker could react, she pushed forward again, swinging and jabbing. I couldn’t stop watching as she drove him further and further back with every confident move, Striker scrambling to avoid her advances.

           She backed him up against the side of a bloodied section of playground equipment, and drove the blade straight through his chest, burying it to the hilt.

           I yelled and tried to get up, but Cirrus held me down by my shoulders, heart picking back up as Striker stiffened, eyes wide before slumping down to the wet sand. But the sword left no wound, no new blood welled anywhere I could see. Slowly, I sank back down to the ground, cautious relief starting to seep into my blood.

           Then something fled from Striker, straight through Ginger’s chest.  

           She gasped and staggered backwards only a couple of steps before dropping swiftly to one knee, bracing herself against her unseen sword. Her back tensed, her eyes shut tight and I could see her mouth moving but whatever she said was too quiet for me to hear over the pouring of the rain.

           My mouth went dry and I could barely breathe as the seconds seemed to last for hours. She couldn’t, couldn’t get possessed. If Vena took Ginger… It would be over. I couldn’t do it once, I couldn’t do it now. Cirrus seemed to be thinking the same thing, his stone face crumbling with fear flashing behind his eyes.

           Before I could stop myself, I scrambled to my feet and rushed forwards, but she raised an open hand towards me and I skidded to a stop. By my shoulder, Cirrus did the same, and on his other side, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dylan follow his lead, head low and fur bristling.

           Her head jerked, her shoulders rounded and I tensed. A second later something dark slipped out from her chest and vanished into the downpour. She groaned, and had to brace herself against her bent knee, but slowly dragged herself back up to her feet, eyes glowing bright for a handful of slow blinks before fading back to normal. With a deep sigh, she shook herself off and lowered the sword to her side, and relief spread warm across my shoulders.

           But it didn’t last long. As soon as she was up she started for Striker, still laying like a discarded doll on the sand, his own blood mixing with the rain and red seeped into the ground. I hurried after her, worry cinching my throat tight.

           Ginger crouched, leaning over him and gently placing her fingers on the side of his neck. “He’s alive.” She looked up at me when I knelt beside her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Are you okay Asher?”

           I swallowed, finally starting to feel the exhaustion weighting down my limbs. “I, uh,” I glanced down at my hands; the claws had vanished, leaving only my fingernails a fading black.

           “It’s alright, you’re almost back to normal,” Ginger murmured. “But are you okay?”

           Was I? My entire body trembled, my heart had yet to return to a regular rhythm, my head was thick with fog and the rain soaked through my clothes, chilling me right down to the bone. But I was alive. I’d get better.

           I nodded. “I think.” I swallowed again. “I’ll be alright.”

           “Is he okay?” Cirrus stood behind me, Dylan by his side.

           Ginger glanced up at them, then back down to Striker. “He’s alive.” She frowned. “But…”

           Slowly, I reached out and brushed the back of my hand against Striker’s. Nothing. My face wrenched and I tensed. There was nothing under his skin. He was breathing, his heart was beating and he was warm as the living should be, but there was nothing else.

           “He,” I turned to Ginger, eyes wide. “His soul isn’t here.”

           She nodded, pursing her lips together. “A body can survive without a soul, but only as a body.” She hesitated. “His soul must be somewhere. It wouldn’t have passed on if the body was still alive.”

           I leaned in. “If we can find it, can we put it back?”

           Ginger hesitated, and for a moment I feared the worst. “Asher, it’s no small task to reunite a soul. We have to find it and then find a way to take it to his body. We couldn’t bring the body with us, he needs medical attention now.” She leaned back, running a hand through her hair. “I could put something together that might work, but truth be told this only happens rarely and displaced spirits can be unpredictable to work with. I’d need at least a day to…”

           She trailed off, eyes slowly meeting mine. Thought flashed through her eyes, glowing in rain just letting up.

           “Unless you could?” She glanced between me and Striker. “You can manipulate souls, invite spirits within your body…” She paused again. “Do you think, if you could find him, you could bring him back within you?”

           Why not? I nodded, pushing off the ground to get to my feet. “I think so.”

           “We don’t know where to look.” Cirrus swayed on his feet in the dying breeze, breaks in the clouds letting the sun shine through onto his worried face.

           Ginger twisted her neck to look up at him. “Spirits ejected this way tend to return to the places they’re most familiar.” She glanced at me. “If not somewhere like that, retrace his steps and see if you can find where he was forced out if he hasn’t had a chance to return yet.”

           The images of him struggling against the fridge and countertop in the kitchen flashed through my mind. He’d been fighting it then. My heart sunk. He must have lost the fight somewhere around there.

           “I’m going to start at the house.” My voice was shakier that I thought it would have been. “I think.”

           Ginger nodded. “Good plan.” She got to her feet. “I’m going to stay here, call an ambulance and stay with him in case Vena tries to return.” She bit her lower lip. “It would have been too risky to attempt a full exorcism, he’s only been driven away for now.” She thought another moment, then turned to Dylan and Cirrus. “Cirrus, if you could stay with me as well, you would know more about Striker and his history than I do.”  

           Cirrus nodded and shuffled to stand next to her. Dylan padded from his side to mine, stepping away towards the edge of the park with a glance over the soaked fur of his bloodied shoulders. I glanced between him and Ginger, trying to steel my nerves with no success.

           “Don’t worry Asher,” Ginger’s voice was calm enough to ease some of my tension. “We’ll take care of him, I promise. I’ve got your number; I’ll let you know anything that happens as soon as it does.”

           “Thanks.” I let my shoulders fall as much as I could without collapsing under tired muscles. “I’ll try and get back soon.”

           She nodded and I turned away, following Dylan’s fast trot through the wet streets. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if he wasn’t there, but I didn’t have time to think about that now, focused completely on landing one foot after another and staying upright even as the world started to spin around me with every motion.

           I had to find him, and I had to find him soon.

[rayfollowsfromhere]

Sapphic September Day 6

Today's prompt is Hairy. And I finished before midnight for once! Yay!

-.-.-

"Well, fuck."

Eleanora glared at the small two-story that Stella had informed her was the Lawn house. Melancholy was strangling it - vines of grey were curled around the exterior and the black roots were visibly crawling beneath the porch.

There was not enough cinnamon in the world for this level of infestation.

"What I wouldn't give for some Devil's Claw." Eleanora groaned and stepped carefully up to the front door. It required some wide steps.

A three-inch spot on the front door was the only bit not covered by the spreading branches so Eleanora knocked with her finger. She pressed her pointer finger to the wood and a boom sound through the whole house.

The melancholy responded by slithering around in fright before tightening its hold. Eleanora tensed until it stopped moving.

"Amity Lawn?" Eleanora called out. Her voice cracked and she cursed under her breath. No response came. Eleanora decided this was fine - dealing with possible murderers usually requires some amount of focus and this melancholy would not allow that.

With a quick breath Eleanora closed her eyes and clicked her heels. The living room was much worse than the exterior. Not shocking. Living spaces were usually origin points.

Beneath, around, and in the melancholy was a fairly organized home. The pencils on the desk were even lined up perfectly perpendicular to the bottom edge. Not typical of a nest of this size.

"Great…" Eleanora turned in her spot, searching the room for other signs. A stack of dish clothes on the counter were folded identically. There was a distinct lack of clutter of any kind. That alone sent Eleanora's hackles right up.

The hair on the back of her neck warmed. Eleanora slapped her hand over them. Her hand came back black with soot.

The air in her lungs fled as she slowly turned around to face the front door. There was nothing near it. She'd given it a tertiary glance when she looked previously.

Now, she was looking. Now, she saw it.

On the back of the door was a growth. Red and bulging and beating like a heart. The branches of melancholy were curling over and the red was seeping into them like veins full of blood.

It wasn't oozing. Yet.

"Damn it." Eleanora clicked her heels again and then collapsed forward onto the grass in the yard across the street. She heaved a few heavy breath, but she didn't vomit. Success!

"Are you a witch?"

Eleanora's head snapped to the side. Beau and Zora took a step back from her. She swallowed back some bile and pushed up onto her knees.

"What?" Eleanora forced a smile to her face. Neither Beau nor Zora looked convinced. They made no move to close the gap between where they stood on the sidewalk and where she knelt on the grass.

"Are. You. A. Witch?" Zora spoke slowly, her eyes narrowed harshly. Beau fidgeted beside her.

Eleanora raised a brow, "No."

The girl pursed her lips and Beau furrowed his brow, "How did you get in and out of the house then?" He nodded towards the Lawn house across the street.

It probably looked like any other old, rundown home to them.

"Were you watching me?" Eleanora put her hands on her hips. Her gaze hardened on the two teens. "That's called stalking."

Zora shrugged as Beau looked pointedly at his feet, "You're the one pulling Harry Potter tricks." Beau coughed, probably attempting to signal Zora to shut up. The girl did not. "So if you're not a witch, you must be something."

"Can I be a Hufflepuff? Badgers are cool." Eleanora stood up. She stretched her arms above her head and listened to her neck and shoulders crack. She pressed her a hand to the back of her neck again. No soot this time.

"What were you doing?" Beau asked, eyes rising from his sneakers to Eleanora's face. She gave him points for the eye contact and shrugged.

"Investigating." Eleanora shook out her legs and hopped a few times. The residue from the house fell away, mostly metaphysical, given how clean the inside had been.

Zora huffed and crossed her arms, "Are you a demon?" Eleanora snorted. Zora flushed, "Well, what then?!"

The girl's hands gestured out, one smacking Beau in the shoulder, "Are you some sort of psychic?" Eleanora froze.

"Let me give you some advice," Eleanora focused on the teens, her face blank as she spoke. The two teens stilled at the chill in her voice. "It's not smart to go around accusing people of being a witch, a demon, or anything else."

"Bu-"

"No." She interrupted Zora, "Best case, you're right and they don't use their freaky powers to hurt you." She stepped closer, her voice lower, "Worst case, you're wrong, and you insult someone you don't know anything about."

Eleanora side-stepped the teens and started walking away from the historic district. She didn't glance back to see, but she knew the two teens were now arguing in hushed tones.

"And if I were you," Eleanora called back once she got to the crosswalk. She still didn't look back. "I certainly wouldn't believe everything I read on the internet."

-.-.-

Domi stepped into Lottie's with no small amount of trepidation. She drummed her fingers on the counter as she waited for someone to come out from the back room.

"Dr. Davies." Stella's voice was cool and Domi swallowed back a sneer. "What can I do for you?" She glanced at her dreadlocks, "You need a shampoo?"

"No." Domi took a breath. "I was wondering if you knew who my sister was dating. Frankey said they broke up."

Stella crossed her arms, "That's your sister's business, not yours." Domi opened her mouth, but Stella silenced her with a scowl. "I already spoke with that P.I. you brought in."

Domi clipped her nod and turned around to leave.

"First you hire a P.I. because you don't trust Emmett, now you're investigating yourself. Don't trust your friend either?" Stella raised a brow and Domi's spine straightened defensively. "Ah, not your friend."

"I trust her to solve my sister's murder. And I trust Emmett to do his best." Domi looked over her shoulder at the hairdresser.

Stella's hair was wrapped back within a colorful cloth and the curls spilling out the back bounced as she tilted her head. "You know, I think you might actually believe that."

Domi looked back at the door. She waited a brief moment before reaching for the handle.

"Amity Lawn is back in town."

Her fingers curled around the donor's handle tight enough to strangle a snake. Her knuckles paled. "When?" Her voice was quiet.

"A month," Stella sighed. Domi heard Stella's huffy breath. "Laura told me and your P.I. this morning."

"You tell them what he did?" Domi didn't turn her head, but she found Stella's eyes reflecting back at her in the glass door.

The eyes looked away, "I did." She huffed again and Domi felt a hand grasp her shoulder, "Didn't tell them who."

"Good." Domi yanked the door open and fled.

-.-.-

Emmett stared at his phone. He'd gotten two texts in rapid succession and he was not overly excited to reply to either.

Beau: Okay. She's not a mind reader, but I am fairly sure the P.I. lady is some sort of magical creature. She can totally teleport!

D. Davies: Did you know Amity Lawn is back in town?

Being a sheriff, he took the easier text first and responded to Dominique first.

>>> I heard. He's on parole. Can't legally say more than that.

Emmett pursed his lips as he sent the message. It wasn't the whole truth, but it was all he could tell her. She didn't respond.

>>> He's kept to himself and he has an alibi for Oriana's TOD.

He waited five minutes, just to see if she would respond this time. She didn't. Emmett resigned himself to the inevitable and clicked four on his speed-dial.

"Please tell me you're not following the P.I.?" Emmett asked as soon as Beau picked up. The subsequent three minutes of hemming and hawing answer his question. "I should not have to tell you this, but don't stalk people."

"We weren't stalking! We just happen to walk by, I swear!"

Emmett groaned, "We? Is Zora with you?" There was another few minutes of rambling that eventually boiled down to a 'yes.' Emmett swore. "If you get Stella's girl in trouble, YOU can explain to your mother why we have to go to Evansville for hair cuts."

"She's the one that asked if she was a witch!"

His hand moved to his head as he tried to block out the coming headache. "Beauregard…"

"All I did was ask her why she was at the Lawn place. I swear!"

The headache came, swelling like the tide. How was the crazy P.I. the least of his worries right now?

His phone buzzed and Emmett pulled it away from his face to check the notification.

D. Davies: You're a bigger idiot than I remember. And I didn't think that was possible.

Yup. Things were getting hairy and it was his job to comb out the knots. Great.

[castlehead]

Mutabilities Section #2: [ IMPRIMATUR FOR THE PRESENT STACKS ]

“Lessness, With Frond”

                                    Here my soul has         —Resting place! There down by, away, and Then returning there, the conurbations of you, my little dismal stream  Hath got me to my soul or where to die: its waters         I followed from an unsayable Upheaval, now I am back into this finite ever: the waters are almost like they are   Christening rocky forest faults, along with me, again; and time going                       Its gravitational trek, trickling its gravities Off like the waters do, bordering          Round the forest islet somewhere till it                       Does again. It was something splashing, out there, at first, You might have heard, from far off, like farmers               Outside the parable Who might have heard Icarus drowning; I and my soul dripping with                       The steps of a caved beast, from exhaustion         And wounds: what lessness, with frond thereby Seen as well, following her collapsing there that was mine, A daffodil too woven twined in it, them dipping together fragilely                     Reluctant out of that streamy clipping                              Dismalness:

            Amicable stream-space, I noticed:

     When I came to you, you put wht spoke from nature first, you put that                   Above any heeding, that is—       Of this evil, aural script of Me with her trodding ghost uncareful upon                  Her metaphysic unreality,        Betraying many treble-stresses with each step, Vibrations, like the ones that I give now and                   Here, fatigued by my low-murmuring vigil, Which thus far had imposed upon too much the other                      Silent spaces, beforehand,          Places with too zealous or too sensitive A frequency, I guess, for the silence to fill up solely     With the fiery quoting out the dark of unseen frogs or                      Other noises of the wood, alone; to not pick up On my unearthly vaguest print of sound— That in hearing like I would if these prints were real almost                       Had terrified me to an existence;

Yet you are my here, and without      Much of that cruel care for me nor care of my path                     Nor mete a wrathy tone of wind to chill me further elsewhere: And so now I stop here, it is where my soul decides to fall Through me: something from above me    Cracking feeling vines and branches, here,                 Interlocking flocks of flowers in their numbers here; I allow you your loud mossy verbs, brook, for these           Modest winding tranquil soul-drops wade quickly out of reckoning Like the ripples made by a stone skipped across your surface:                  Are whispers heard barely Over that noise you make, and which wld shame me If they made more than the sound they do.  I winding so long through stubs                 Of chasm rock and folded roots, fear little But for honor’s loss: the stream           A mad disturbance: I beggin for the Place placed out of the place, and made by these wry strokes! The                            Blood on the floor of the wood

         Where I saw me fell to squander: an                 Angel meek and exquisite, dying with abandon,

The blaze of meaning itself was myself: I was A seam of GOD revoked by GOD And left as separated, a thing spit out, split From The Divine and yet not mortal, not        Base, nor refined, sleight Nor height, but forever a molting part, from the severe GOD. Though all of thing unravel, and immortal natures Bereft all, in the end, and even in The Divine: that thing to burn to ruin As variable features of pain each day disprove its power more and Reveal a stuttered nakedness behind it: well, remit that           Very element of my soul to very Lucifer And she does, too, to mine; making                          Us the same and leaving soul Itself unpeopled, and myself the very one Beyond the catching of that vapid screen: I was not dead nor was magnificent, And welcome after all in that pressured wood, feline                         The creatures like the doe pawed at my dead thing’s white Folds of sheet, trailed mannered in wrinkles of its robe              Like a painting, much the more for nobody was                         Watching. The emphatic crush timed round         Made the deer back off, the wasted Form glowing, the angel stunning the air t’breach            A place of air for souls, to them, Bemused at this winged shorty dying and lain Down in the wood, and stoppering the air      With shuddering, an only friend,                For power in the scaffolding of brush aerated in thuds Through this wood thereupon down, backing off the life          With booms, and air yet more than air,                           The angel havin fallen from a high place:       In the heavens of most things, a thing Forsaken doubly by the wintry-psyche’d WORLD Who saw her, angel, poor one, too cold                  For GOD, she wanting a differing

Cosmos of Peace in the heat, to escape to when one has died off From that icy zone, and no one was around: if even to plummet to perishing

                    Just to see the Imperfect WORLD again,

      Perhaps, just a leafiness in water, Amusing the simple daffodil again.

[readbookywooks]

26. The anthem begins, but there are no faces in the sky tonight. The audience will be restless, thirsting for blood. Beetee's trap holds enough promise, though, that the Gamemakers haven't sent in other attacks. Perhaps they are simply curious to see if it will work. At what Finnick and I judge to be about nine, we leave our shell-strewn camp, cross to the twelve o'clock beach, and begin to quietly hike up to the lightning tree in the light of the moon. Our full stomachs make us more uncomfortable and breathless than we were on the morning's climb. I begin to regret those last dozen oysters. Beetee asks Finnick to assist him, and the rest of us stand guard. Before he even attaches any wire to the tree, Beetee unrolls yards and yards of the stuff. He has Finnick secure it tightly around a broken branch and lay it on the ground. Then they stand on either side of the tree, passing the spool back and forth as they wrap the wire around and around the trunk. At first it seems arbitrary, then I see a pattern, like an intricate maze, appearing in the moonlight on Beetee's side. I wonder if it makes any difference how the wire's placed, or if this is merely to add to the speculation of the audience. I bet most of them know as much about electricity as I do. The work on the trunk's completed just as we hear the wave begin. I've never really worked out at what point in the ten o'clock hour it erupts. There must be some buildup, then the wave itself, then the aftermath of the flooding. But the sky tells me ten-thirty. This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. Since we move most swiftly through the trees, he wants Johanna and me to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as we go. We are to lay it across the twelve o'clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle. If we go now, right now, we should make it to safety. "I want to go with them as a guard," Peeta says immediately. After the moment with the pearl, I know he's less willing than ever to let me out of his sight. "You're too slow. Besides, I'll need you on this end. Katniss will guard," says Beetee. "There's no time to debate this. I'm sorry. If the girls are to get out of there alive, they need to move now." He hands the coil to Johanna. I don't like the plan any more than Peeta does. How can I protect him at a distance? But Beetee's right. With his leg, Peeta is too slow to make it down the slope in time. Johanna and I are the fastest and most sure-footed on the jungle floor. I can't think of any alternative. And if I trust anyone here besides Peeta, it's Beetee. "It's okay," I tell Peeta. "We'll just drop the coil and come straight back up." "Not into the lightning zone," Beetee reminds me. "Head for the tree in the one-to-two-o'clock sector. If you find you're running out of time, move over one more. Don't even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage." I take Peeta's face in my hands. "Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight." I give him a kiss and, before he can object any further, I let go and turn to Johanna. "Ready?" "Why not?" says Johanna with a shrug. She's clearly no happier about being teamed up than I am. But we're all caught up in Beetee's trap. "You guard, I'll unwind. We can trade off later." Without further discussion, we head down the slope. In fact there's very little discussion between us at all. We move at a pretty good clip, one manning the coil, the other keeping watch. About halfway down, we hear the clicking beginning to rise, indicating it's after eleven. "Better hurry," Johanna says. "I want to put a lot of distance between me and that water before the lightning hits. Just in case Volts miscalculated something." "I'll take the coil for a while," I say. It's harder work laying out the wire than guarding, and she's had a long turn. "Here," Johanna says, passing me the coil. Both of our hands are still on the metal cylinder when there's a slight vibration. Suddenly the thin golden wire from above springs down at us, bunching in tangled loops and curls around our wrists. Then the severed end snakes up to our feet. It only takes a second to register this rapid turn of events. Johanna and I look at each other, but neither of us has to say it. Someone not far above us has cut the wire. And they will be on us at any moment. My hand frees itself from the wire and has just closed on the feathers of an arrow when the metal cylinder smashes into the side of my head. The next thing I know, I'm lying on my back in the vines, a terrible pain in my left temple. Something's wrong with my eyes. My vision blurs in and out of focus as I strain to make the two moons floating up in the sky into one. It's hard to breathe, and I realize Johanna's sitting on my chest, pinning me at the shoulders with her knees. There's a stab in my left forearm. I try to jerk away but I'm still too incapacitated. Johanna's digging something, I guess the point of her knife, into my flesh, twisting it around. There's an excruciating ripping sensation and warmth runs down my wrist, filling my palm. She swipes down my arm and coats half my face with my blood. "Stay down!" she hisses. Her weight leaves my body and I'm alone. Stay down? I think. What? What is happening? My eyes shut, blocking out the inconsistent world, as I try to make sense of my situation. All I can think of is Johanna shoving Wiress to the beach. "Just stay down, will you?" But she didn't attack Wiress. Not like this. I'm not Wiress, anyway. I'm not Nuts. "Just stay down, will you?" echoes around inside my brain. Footsteps coming. Two pairs. Heavy, not trying to conceal their whereabouts. Brutus's voice. "She's good as dead! Come on, Enobaria!" Feet moving into the night. Am I? I drift in and out of consciousness looking for an answer. Am I as good as dead? I'm in no position to make an argument to the contrary. In fact, rational thinking is a struggle. This much I know. Johanna attacked me. Smashed that cylinder into my head. Cut my arm, probably doing irreparable damage to veins and arteries, and then Brutus and Enobaria showed up before she had time to finish me off. The alliance is over. Finnick and Johanna must have had an agreement to turn on us tonight. I knew we should have left this morning. I don't know where Beetee stands. But I'm fair game, and so is Peeta. Peeta! My eyes fly open in panic. Peeta is waiting up by the tree, unsuspecting and off guard. Maybe Finnick has even killed him already. "No," I whisper. That wire was cut from a short distance away by the Careers. Finnick and Beetee and Peeta - they can't know what's going on down here. They can only be wondering what has happened, why the wire has gone slack or maybe even sprung back to the tree. This, in itself, can't be a signal to kill, can it? Surely this was just Johanna deciding the time had come to break with us. Kill me. Escape from the Careers. Then bring Finnick into the fight as soon as possible. I don't know. I don't know. I only know that I must get back to Peeta and keep him alive. It takes every ounce of will I have to push up into a sitting position and drag myself up the side of a tree to my feet. It's lucky I have something to hold on to because the jungle's tilting back and forth. Without any warning, I lean forward and vomit up the seafood feast, heaving until there can't possibly be an oyster left in my body. Trembling and slick with sweat, I assess my physical condition. As I lift up my damaged arm, blood sprays me in the face and the world makes another alarming shift. I squeeze my eyes shut and cling to the tree until things steady a little. Then I take a few careful steps to a neighboring tree, pull off some moss, and without examining the wound further, tightly bandage my arm. Better. Definitely better not to see it. Then I allow my hand to tentatively touch my head wound. There's a huge lump but not too much blood. Obviously I've got some internal damage, but I don't seem in danger of bleeding to death. At least not through my head. I dry my hands on moss and get a shaky grip on my bow with my damaged left arm. Secure the notch of an arrow to the string. Make my feet move up the slope. Peeta. My dying wish. My promise. To keep him alive. My heart lifts a bit when I realize he must be alive because no cannon has fired. Maybe Johanna was acting alone, knowing Finnick would side with her once her intentions were clear. Although it's hard to guess what goes on between those two. I think of how he looked to her for confirmation before he'd agree to help set Beetee's trap. There's a much deeper alliance based on years of friendship and who knows what else. Therefore, if Johanna has turned on me, I should no longer trust Finnick. I reach this conclusion only seconds before I hear someone running down the slope toward me. Neither Peeta nor Beetee could move at this pace. I duck behind a curtain of vines, concealing myself just in time. Finnick flies by me, his skin shadowy with medicine, leaping through the undergrowth like a deer. He soon reaches the sight of my attack, must see the blood. "Johanna! Katniss!" he calls. I stay put until he goes in the direction Johanna and the Careers took. I move as quickly as I can without sending the world into a whirl. My head throbs with the rapid beat of my heart. The insects, possibly excited by the smell of blood, have increased their clicking until it's a continuous roar in my ears. No, wait. Maybe my ears are actually ringing from the hit. Until the insects shut up, it will be impossible to tell. But when the insects go silent, the lightning will start. I have to move faster. I have to get to Peeta. The boom of a cannon pulls me up short. Someone has died. I know that with everyone running around armed and scared right now, it could be anybody. But whoever it is, I believe the death will trigger a kind of free-for-all out here in the night. People will kill first and wonder about their motives later. I force my legs into a run. Something snags my feet and I sprawl out on the ground. I feel it wrapping around me, entwining me in sharp fibers. A net! This must be one of Finnick's fancy nets, positioned to trap me, and he must be nearby, trident in hand. I flail around for a moment, only working the web more tightly around me, and then I catch a glimpse of it in the moonlight. Confused, I lift my arm and see it's entangled in shimmering golden threads. It's not one of Finnick's nets at all, but Beetee's wire. I carefully rise to my feet and find I'm in a patch of the stuff that caught on a trunk on its way back to the lightning tree. Slowly I disengage myself from the wire, step out of its reach, and continue uphill. On the good side, I'm on the right path and have not been so disoriented by the head injury as to lose my sense of direction. On the bad side, the wire has reminded me of the oncoming lightning storm. I can still hear the insects, but are they starting to fade? I keep the loops of wire a few feet to my left as a guide as I run but take great care not to touch them. If those insects are fading and the first bolt is about to strike the tree, then all its power will come surging down that wire and anyone in contact with it will die. The tree swims into view, its trunk festooned with gold. I slow down, try to move with some stealth, but I'm really just lucky to be upright. I look for a sign of the others. No one. No one is there. "Peeta?" I call softly. "Peeta?" A soft moan answers me and I whip around to find a figure lying higher up on the ground. "Beetee!" I exclaim. I hurry and kneel beside him. The moan must have been involuntary. He's not conscious, although I can see no wound except a gash below the crook of his elbow. I grab a nearby handful of moss and clumsily wrap it while I try to rouse him. "Beetee! Beetee, what's going on! Who cut you? Beetee!" I shake him in the way you should never shake an injured person, but I don't know what else to do. He moans again and briefly raises a hand to ward me off. This is when I notice he's holding a knife, one Peeta was carrying earlier, I think, which is wrapped loosely in wire. Perplexed, I stand and lift the wire, confirming it's attached back at the tree. It takes me a moment to remember the second, much shorter strand that Beetee wound around a branch and left on the ground before he even began his design on the tree. I'd thought it had some electrical significance, had been set aside to be used later. But it never was, because there's probably a good twenty, twenty-five yards here. I squint hard up the hill and realize we're only a few paces from the force field. There's the telltale square, high up and to my right, just as it was this morning. What did Beetee do? Did he actually try to drive the knife into the force field the way Peeta did by accident? And what's the deal with the wire? Was this his backup plan? If electrifying the water failed, did he mean to send the lightning bolt's energy into the force field? What would that do, anyway? Nothing? A great deal? Fry us all? The force field must mostly be energy, too, I guess. The one in the Training Center was invisible. This one seems to somehow mirror the jungle. But I've seen it falter when Peeta's knife struck it and when my arrows hit. The real world lies right behind it. My ears are not ringing. It was the insects after all. I know that now because they are dying out quickly and I hear nothing but the jungle sounds. Beetee is useless. I can't rouse him. I can't save him. I don't know what he was trying to do with the knife and the wire and he's incapable of explaining. The moss bandage on my arm is soaked and there's no use fooling myself. I'm so light-headed I'll black out in a matter of minutes. I've got to get away from this tree and - "Katniss!" I hear his voice though he's a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. "Katniss!" I can't protect him. I can't move fast or far and my shooting abilities are questionable at best. I do the one thing I can to draw the attackers away from him and over to me. "Peeta!" I scream out. "Peeta! I'm here! Peeta!" Yes, I will draw them in, any in my vicinity, away from Peeta and over to me and the lightning tree that will soon be a weapon in and of itself. "I'm here! I'm here!" He won't make it. Not with that leg in the night. He will never make it in time. "Peeta!" It's working. I can hear them coming. Two of them. Crashing through the jungle. My knees start to give out and I sink down next to Beetee, resting my weight on my heels. My bow and arrow lift into position. If I can take them out, will Peeta survive the rest? Enobaria and Finnick reach the lightning tree. They can't see me, sitting above them on the slope, my skin camouflaged in ointment. I home in on Enobaria's neck. With any luck, when I kill her, Finnick will duck behind the tree for cover just as the lightning bolt strikes. And it will be any second. There's only a faint insect click here and there. I can kill them now. I can kill them both. Another cannon. "Katniss!" Peeta's voice howls for me. But this time I don't answer. Beetee still breathes faintly beside me. He and I will soon die. Finnick and Enobaria will die. Peeta is alive. Two cannons have sounded. Brutus, Johanna, Chaff. Two of them are already dead. That will leave Peeta with only one tribute to kill. And that is the very best I can do. One enemy. Enemy. Enemy. The word is tugging at a recent memory. Pulling it into the present. The look on Haymitch's face. "Katniss, when you're in the arena ..." The scowl, the misgiving. "What?" I hear my own voice tighten as I bristle at some unspoken accusation. "You just remember who the enemy is," Haymitch says. "That's all." Haymitch's last words of advice to me. Why would I need reminding? I have always known who the enemy is. Who starves and tortures and kills us in the arena. Who will soon kill everyone I love. My bow drops as his meaning registers. Yes, I know who the enemy is. And it's not Enobaria. I finally see Beetee's knife with clear eyes. My shaking hands slide the wire from the hilt, wind it around the arrow just above the feathers, and secure it with a knot picked up in training. I rise, turning to the force field, fully revealing myself but no longer caring. Only caring about where I should direct my tip, where Beetee would have driven the knife if he'd been able to choose. My bow tilts up at the wavering square, the flaw, the ... what did he call it that day? The chink in the armor. I let the arrow fly, see it hit its mark and vanish, pulling the thread of gold behind it. My hair stands on end and the lightning strikes the tree. A flash of white runs up the wire, and for just a moment, the dome bursts into a dazzling blue light. I'm thrown backward to the ground, body useless, paralyzed, eyes frozen wide, as feathery bits of matter rain down on me. I can't reach Peeta. I can't even reach my pearl. My eyes strain to capture one last image of beauty to take with me. Right before the explosions begin, I find a star.