Riders (Riders, #1)(17)

I stepped in, already swinging as he fell. My fist met Samrael’s face, square on the jaw. He felt immovable, like I’d just tried to deck the Great Wall of China. He jerked back and the inside of my hand let out an audible snap.

Pain speared up my arm. I grabbed my hand, my instincts firing. I needed to withdraw, assess damage. But Samrael caught me around the throat and shoved me across the living room. Pain-drunk, I could only backpedal. We knocked over a small table and sent a lamp crashing to the floor. Then my back struck the wall with so much force, I felt it crack behind me.

Samrael had me pinned. My lungs couldn’t get enough air. And I must have hit my head because his face blurred in and out of focus. The room had grown dimmer with the lamp broken, but in the semidark, I saw a trail of glistening blood dribble down his mouth and over his chin.

“Fool,” he whispered, but his flat eyes were alive now. “Who sent you?”

He didn’t wait for me to answer. The pressure came back over my eyes and my ears. He was getting inside my head again. As the stinging spread inside my scalp, the darkness began to whirl around me. I felt myself drawing back, separating from reality.

I didn’t know how to fight this way. How was I supposed to defend myself? I couldn’t even move.

Samrael smiled. His grip was crushing my throat. I still couldn’t get enough air. “You know, for a moment there I thought you weren’t pitiful. I guess I was wrong, pitiful Gideon.” He angled his head slowly, left and then right. “But you’re not scared, are you? How about now?”

His smile went wider. No … it was his mouth. His mouth pushed forward, forward, forward, elongating into a muzzle or … a beak? What was it? A snout?

His skin curdled into worn leather as his skull reshaped. His eyes pulled back, sloping, the black irises stirring, lighting with something dark inside. I saw a sea of torment in his eyes. Cries of anguish, fear, and weakness writhed there. I heard howling, and begging, and—

Enough. What are you? What the hell are you? Are you an animal?

“Not animal,” Samrael said. “Worse.”

Monster.

“That’s closer.”

“Hey, *. You need to let go of my brother.”

My consciousness lurched back into the apartment. My sister appeared in my peripheral vision. She was holding a baseball bat.

Why wasn’t she reacting to Samrael’s horrific appearance? Why wasn’t anyone reacting?

Samrael looked at Anna. “Sure thing,” he said mockingly. He released me. In an instant his features shifted back to normal. He was just a guy again. With a split lip leaking blood that was just a little too dark, like wine.

I took the bat from Anna. “Get out,” I rasped.

I still wasn’t completely myself but I had every intention of attacking if he didn’t leave. Taking a life was something I’d been preparing myself for, as a soldier. But I’d never imagined it happening this way. With a bat, in front of my sister.

Samrael turned to the front door. Ronwae, the redhead, stood there breathing hard. “She’s gone. I looked everywhere,” she said, her voice chiseled with an accent I didn’t recognize. She disappeared into the hallway.

A mild look of disappointment crossed Samrael’s face, like he’d been told he’d just gotten a parking ticket. He followed her, but hesitated at the door. “Whatever you do, Gideon, whatever you think you can do”—he opened his hands and showed me emptiness, futility—“it won’t matter,” he said, and he was gone.

I looked at my sister and struggled to find words. I’d been submerged in that consuming darkness and it still hadn’t fully left me. I was still kicking for the surface.

“Your hand,” Anna said.

I looked down. The knuckles of my right hand were already swollen and red. Pretty alarmingly. I had no idea how I was gripping the bat. The pain blared like a car alarm that wouldn’t stop but my injury was a second-level concern.

“You okay?” I asked.

Anna shook her head. “I guess? More than you are. Who was that guy?”

“Whose bat is this?”

“What? It’s Taylor’s.”

“I need to borrow it,” I said. Then I shot out of the apartment.

I shouldn’t have pursued. I had a serious injury. And I’d just seen a person-monster. But the enemy was retreating and I just couldn’t let that shit go. I flew out of the complex and hit the sidewalk at a sprint. Anger roared inside me, clearing my thoughts and propelling me forward, but I slowed down as I reached the street.

It was deserted. I didn’t see any college kids strolling around. Both the parking lot and the housing complex were dead quiet. All I heard were my running shoes scuffing the pavement and my lungs pumping oxygen.

When I reached the edge of the parking lot, I stopped. There was something strange about how heavy the darkness seemed. How thick. The streetlamps curving down the hill were weak points of light, and I couldn’t even see the main road below. No sign of Samrael.

Okay, Blake. Take a second.

I set the bat down. My quads twitched. My right hand had developed its own heartbeat. Broken bones in there, I was sure. Nice. Added some fresh fractures to the list of things I had to deal with. I heard the squeal of cats fighting somewhere close. Because of me? Definitely possible.

Now what?