Jilo (Witching Savannah #4)(44)

“Don’t worry about that now,” Henry said, pressing her back with such force she nearly stumbled backward onto the stairs. “Get the girls. We gotta get out of here.”

Poppy dug in her heels. “What is wrong? You tell me where Nana is, or I ain’t taking another step,” she said, although her eyes remained fixed on the fog. It began to glow.

“What . . .” she said, pointing down, but a sound cut her off. A roar, filled with violence and hunger. She grasped Henry’s hand. Tried to step backward. To pull Henry and herself up the steps and into the shelter of the house. But by the time she’d begun to move, it was already too late.

Red eyes consumed her. Her mouth opened to scream, but something rushed inside it instead. The pain was so keen, she felt like she was being ripped apart. Skinned alive from the inside out. She was in a dark room. No, she was imprisoned in her own mind. And this thing inside her was suppressing her will, taking her over, striking out at her from within.

“Poppy,” Henry called. The familiar sound of his voice pulled her above the wave that had invaded her, and she saw his blood dripping from the points where her hand, transformed into a claw, had pierced his skin. She managed to release him, but in the next instant, like a man drowning, she was back under. Though she could watch what was happening and feel her body move, it was the intruder wearing her, rather than her own will, pulling her along.

“Run,” Poppy screamed from deep within to Henry, to her sisters, but the sound never reached her lips. Instead, she heard a gravelly laughter, much deeper than her own voice could ever muster. The invader raised her head and sniffed the wind. Oh, God, she thought. Oh, God, she prayed. The beast within her was searching for the children’s scent. She could smell the sweet scents of Jilo’s nighttime bath and Binah’s talcum. The saltiness of their flesh that lay underneath. Feel the heat of their pulsing blood. And it made her hungry. Her body mounted the first step, and although she struggled to pull back from the house, the second. She bounded over the last and onto the porch, and her hand reached out to grasp the handle of the screen door. It screamed in protest as she flung it open. Her body began to cross the threshold, but she stood frozen, pressed up against the open air as if it were a brick wall.

The thing inside pushed forward, straining so hard it felt like her skeleton would rip from her flesh. Something overhead caught the thing’s eye . . . caught her eye. The haint blue of the overhang was glowing, its enchantment preventing the beast from moving her forward. But its hunger drove it like a wild dog. It clawed at the opening, stretching, straining. Whining.

Henry, unknowing, unaware, thinking he was out to protect her, pushed her forward, his force enough to carry the beast inside her past the blue’s protection. Poppy screamed in anguish as the beast stumbled into the front room. Once inside, it pulled her body to its feet and turned to look at Henry. When his terrified eyes met with the thing looking out from her eyes, she could tell he realized his mistake. He stood there for another long moment, seemingly frozen. Uncertain of which way to turn. Then he made a dash around her toward the hall.

She realized he was trying to make it to the room the little ones shared so he could protect her little sisters from her. Poppy summoned all her will, tearing at the beast who shared her skin. But it felt so strong. So ancient. Poppy knew she could never defeat it on her own, but she didn’t have to beat it. She only had to slow it down.

She steadied herself, preparing to strike out against it. But it snapped her will like a twig and flung her body toward the wall. After grabbing ahold of the iron fire poker, it jumped clear across the room.

Henry turned, raising his arms above his head in an attempt to protect himself. She watched, helpless, as the creature brought the heavy iron down against her love’s arms. He shrieked, a piteous, weak sound, as his arms fell broken and bloody by his sides.

The thing inside her was enjoying the sight and smell of Henry’s blood. The breaking of his bones. Henry stumbled backward a foot or so down the hall. Pursuing him, the creature raised the rod again and brought it down with a heavy crack against Henry’s skull. Henry dropped to his knees. No. No. No, she pleaded even as her arm pulled back to deliver the fatal blow.

Poppy wanted to drop the iron, or at least close her eyes, but she was in control of nothing. Sensing her anguish, the beast hesitated so that it could savor it. Soon, though, it had consumed its fill of her pain. The poker began its descent, but it stopped in midair when the beast perceived the form of a small girl in the shadows of the hall, just outside her bedroom door. The poker slid to the floor. Poppy’s body crouched and prepared to pounce. Jilo’s eyes widened. The poor thing was horrified, but she still didn’t scream the way Poppy would have done at that age, at any age. Jilo dived back into her room and slammed the door behind her.

Poppy’s body tensed and leaped over Henry. She landed on all fours, like an animal, slipping a bit in Henry’s blood.

Somehow, Binah had slept up until then, but the noise must have finally roused her, for her powerful voice sang out in an angry wail. The sound excited the monster inside Poppy. It forced her to crouch by the girls’ bedroom door and scratch against the wood. Making giddy sounds with her vocal cords, it drew in more deep breaths, savoring the smell of one child’s confusion and the other’s fear. Saliva began falling from her mouth, and her stomach rumbled.

There had to be some way to stop this. Or at least a way to shut it out. Would she really have to witness this devil devouring her sisters? Dear God, would she have to taste them?