A thick stream of red-gold fire spews out of its snout. Frankie dives beneath it, but flames grab hold of his tunic and his clothing ignites. He rolls across the grass, extinguishing the flames, while the beast gathers itself for another blast.
“Come on.” Ian wraps his arms around my waist and scoops me up off the ground. As he pulls me toward the trees, I realize Adam is already there, waiting for us, his dark eyes full of horror as he stares at Frankie.
Frankie lies on his back, his clothes still smoking, staring up at the Cursed One with defiance written in every line of his body. The creature is ten yards away, but the sinuous coils of its body close the distance between them quickly. A guttural choking sound issues from the beast’s throat, and the smoke in its nostrils turns gray-black again.
Frankie digs his fingers into the dirt and braces himself. I close my eyes, praying that Frankie dies quickly and that the pain is over in seconds. Praying that the monster leaves once he’s satisfied his prey is dead. Praying that everyone else has the good sense to honor Frankie’s sacrifice by remaining silent.
“No!” Logan’s voice cracks through the air like a whip, and my eyes fly open. The Cursed One swings its face toward him instead of Frankie. Logan stands alone in the field with the ruined Ferris wheel thirty yards behind him. No trees for protection. No place to run.
No exit strategy except his own death.
Terror is a bright shaft of pain through my chest as Logan walks closer to the monster.
I jerk against Ian’s arms, but he won’t let me go.
The muscles beneath the beast’s scales writhe as it gathers itself. Smoke pours out of its nostrils.
I slam my elbow into Ian’s stomach and stomp on his instep with my boot. I have to save Logan. I have to. I can run onto the field and scream. The beast will come after me instead. I’ll be far enough away from Ian and Adam to keep them safe. No one else will die.
No one else here deserves to die.
“Not going to happen,” Ian says against my ear, his grip tightening as I struggle harder.
I grab his arm, drop my shoulder, and twist toward him in a move I’ve practiced a hundred times. A move designed to send him flying over my shoulder and onto his back.
Instead, he pivots gracefully and uses my own momentum to trap me.
“Like I said. Not going to happen. I don’t think Logan would appreciate you sacrificing yourself for him, and I’m not going to be the one he blames for it.” His eyes find mine for a moment and then flicker toward Logan, standing alone in the clearing, facing the Cursed One.
The monster howls, smoke gushing from its mouth.
“No!” I scream the word, straining against Ian’s grip, all thoughts of protecting Adam and Ian forgotten as the beast claws the ground and lowers its snout toward Logan.
Logan presses a lever on the top of the small box in his hands, and it emits a strange buzzing noise. The third button on the device is still tied down.
My breath is a sob of panic and despair as the beast shudders, lashing the fallen trees with its tail and sending sprays of kindling into the air.
“Go back.” Logan presses the lever again and raises his voice. “Go back!”
The Cursed One shakes itself, and its scales scrape together like metal rubbing against stone.
“Please,” I whisper. Ian crushes me against him until I can hardly breathe, but when I look at him, he’s staring at Logan with something like pain on his face.
Logan hits the button one more time, and the beast jerks backward. Coiling in on itself, it roars once more, strafing the ground in front of it with fire. The fallen trees burst into flame, hissing and popping, but the creature slithers over them, crushing them into splinters and extinguishing the fire. The earth trembles as the Cursed One dives back into the hole it created. Logan slowly lowers the device as the beast slips beneath the surface, its howl of rage fading as it tunnels down.
As the monster’s cry disappears, people creep from the surrounding forest to stare.
Jeremiah shuffles away from the tree he hid behind, his purple bow askew and his hat crushed in his hands as his eyes lock on the device Logan holds. An expression somewhere between dread and fascination washes over his face. Frankie struggles to his feet and clenches his big fists while he looks at the slim piece of gray metal as well.
Even Adam, standing next to me with his lips pressed into a tight line, stares at the device with hunger in his eyes.
“So he does have it. And now he’s proven himself to the doubters,” Ian says against my hair. He still holds me too tightly for comfort, and now that Logan is safe, I have time to deal with Ian.
“Let go of me,” I say. My voice shakes.
His grip eases. I step away from him as Adam leaves the shelter of the trees, calling for people to help him go find Thom and the wagon. Before I can rush to Logan’s side, though, Ian grabs my arm.
I glare at him. “I’m getting really tired of you—”
“But why didn’t he use it?” He sounds hurt and a little lost. His eyes are dark with the kind of pain that is rooted deep within me.
I stop trying to pull away. “What do you mean?”
“When the Commander used Carrington to attack us. When he was right there, easily in our reach, why didn’t Logan call the Cursed One and end it?”
I meet his gaze for a long moment while I search for the right words. “Because Carrington soldiers were there, and Logan doesn’t think they deserve to die because of the Commander. And because the last time we called the beast”—I swallow past the memories that choke me—“we couldn’t control it. I’m sure he didn’t want to risk our people again.”
“Come on.” Ian wraps his arms around my waist and scoops me up off the ground. As he pulls me toward the trees, I realize Adam is already there, waiting for us, his dark eyes full of horror as he stares at Frankie.
Frankie lies on his back, his clothes still smoking, staring up at the Cursed One with defiance written in every line of his body. The creature is ten yards away, but the sinuous coils of its body close the distance between them quickly. A guttural choking sound issues from the beast’s throat, and the smoke in its nostrils turns gray-black again.
Frankie digs his fingers into the dirt and braces himself. I close my eyes, praying that Frankie dies quickly and that the pain is over in seconds. Praying that the monster leaves once he’s satisfied his prey is dead. Praying that everyone else has the good sense to honor Frankie’s sacrifice by remaining silent.
“No!” Logan’s voice cracks through the air like a whip, and my eyes fly open. The Cursed One swings its face toward him instead of Frankie. Logan stands alone in the field with the ruined Ferris wheel thirty yards behind him. No trees for protection. No place to run.
No exit strategy except his own death.
Terror is a bright shaft of pain through my chest as Logan walks closer to the monster.
I jerk against Ian’s arms, but he won’t let me go.
The muscles beneath the beast’s scales writhe as it gathers itself. Smoke pours out of its nostrils.
I slam my elbow into Ian’s stomach and stomp on his instep with my boot. I have to save Logan. I have to. I can run onto the field and scream. The beast will come after me instead. I’ll be far enough away from Ian and Adam to keep them safe. No one else will die.
No one else here deserves to die.
“Not going to happen,” Ian says against my ear, his grip tightening as I struggle harder.
I grab his arm, drop my shoulder, and twist toward him in a move I’ve practiced a hundred times. A move designed to send him flying over my shoulder and onto his back.
Instead, he pivots gracefully and uses my own momentum to trap me.
“Like I said. Not going to happen. I don’t think Logan would appreciate you sacrificing yourself for him, and I’m not going to be the one he blames for it.” His eyes find mine for a moment and then flicker toward Logan, standing alone in the clearing, facing the Cursed One.
The monster howls, smoke gushing from its mouth.
“No!” I scream the word, straining against Ian’s grip, all thoughts of protecting Adam and Ian forgotten as the beast claws the ground and lowers its snout toward Logan.
Logan presses a lever on the top of the small box in his hands, and it emits a strange buzzing noise. The third button on the device is still tied down.
My breath is a sob of panic and despair as the beast shudders, lashing the fallen trees with its tail and sending sprays of kindling into the air.
“Go back.” Logan presses the lever again and raises his voice. “Go back!”
The Cursed One shakes itself, and its scales scrape together like metal rubbing against stone.
“Please,” I whisper. Ian crushes me against him until I can hardly breathe, but when I look at him, he’s staring at Logan with something like pain on his face.
Logan hits the button one more time, and the beast jerks backward. Coiling in on itself, it roars once more, strafing the ground in front of it with fire. The fallen trees burst into flame, hissing and popping, but the creature slithers over them, crushing them into splinters and extinguishing the fire. The earth trembles as the Cursed One dives back into the hole it created. Logan slowly lowers the device as the beast slips beneath the surface, its howl of rage fading as it tunnels down.
As the monster’s cry disappears, people creep from the surrounding forest to stare.
Jeremiah shuffles away from the tree he hid behind, his purple bow askew and his hat crushed in his hands as his eyes lock on the device Logan holds. An expression somewhere between dread and fascination washes over his face. Frankie struggles to his feet and clenches his big fists while he looks at the slim piece of gray metal as well.
Even Adam, standing next to me with his lips pressed into a tight line, stares at the device with hunger in his eyes.
“So he does have it. And now he’s proven himself to the doubters,” Ian says against my hair. He still holds me too tightly for comfort, and now that Logan is safe, I have time to deal with Ian.
“Let go of me,” I say. My voice shakes.
His grip eases. I step away from him as Adam leaves the shelter of the trees, calling for people to help him go find Thom and the wagon. Before I can rush to Logan’s side, though, Ian grabs my arm.
I glare at him. “I’m getting really tired of you—”
“But why didn’t he use it?” He sounds hurt and a little lost. His eyes are dark with the kind of pain that is rooted deep within me.
I stop trying to pull away. “What do you mean?”
“When the Commander used Carrington to attack us. When he was right there, easily in our reach, why didn’t Logan call the Cursed One and end it?”
I meet his gaze for a long moment while I search for the right words. “Because Carrington soldiers were there, and Logan doesn’t think they deserve to die because of the Commander. And because the last time we called the beast”—I swallow past the memories that choke me—“we couldn’t control it. I’m sure he didn’t want to risk our people again.”
