While I chose to give myself to Horn, the other monsters here may not care about what I want. They probably don’t care about Horn either. I’m not sure Horn cares about me, but as long as he is helping me, that is all that matters.
“There’s a monster after us.” I try to sound brave, like I could fight if I had to, even though I don’t want to.
“I know. She’s fast, but I’ve taken her on before.” Horn leaps over another puddle, then climbs up a rocky outcropping, using both hands to scale the loose rock face.
I close my eyes, sure I’m about to slide off his shoulder and fall headfirst to the ground.At least it will be fast. Unless I survive with broken bones and bleeding insides.
We reach a ledge, no bigger than a pillow, and Horn places me on it, like I am a sack of flour and starts to descend.
“What are you doing?” There is no way I can climb down on my own and I don’t want to be stuck if…if he’s killed. In that breath, I don’t want him to die because of me. I don’t want him to die at all—and not only because I will have to make another deal and I may not be as lucky the second time, but because no one should be dying to save me.
“I’m keeping my end of our deal and keeping you safe.” He looks up and holds my gaze as though waiting for me to acknowledge that he is doing his part.
I nod. “Thank you.”
“Don’t. If I fail, she’ll drag you back to her hunting pack and they will pull you apart, slowly.” His words are gruff, but his hand lingers on my thigh for a few seconds longer. Then he’s moving again, climbing fast now I’m not over his shoulder.
I grip the edge of the ledge to watch as he drops to the ground. My pussy twinges reminding me of what happened only minutes ago. My tights are ripped, as are my panties, and I’m missing one shoe—I assume the other one is trapped in the mud that tried to drown me.
Horn quickly drops out of sight and unless I twist around I can’t see him, or the fight, because of the rock at my back. All I can hear are the snarls and growls, which are so much worse.
Part of me wants to attempt to get down, but the rest of me doesn’t want to take the risk. If I fall, I will distract him, and he might die. And if she’s winning, I don’t want to draw attention to my precarious perch.
So I bite my lip to stay quiet and pray that Horn will win. Not that I want him to kill the other monster. I just want to be safe, but I’m not sure I ever have been. Would I even recognize what that feels like?
When the growls stop, there is nothing but the eerie whistling of the wind between the rocks, like it’s catching on snaggle teeth. I tilt my head, trying to hear something, even a yelp or a pleading for mercy.
Then there’s a howl, like someone is losing their soul. I’m not sure monsters have one, even though they did as a human. My eyes prickle with tears as the sound rips through me. Whatever happened, there was no winner, only more pain. Is that all this place has to offer? A slow destruction of everything that a person was?
I need to leave Under fast, but the doubts gnaw at me. Why have the other monsters never escaped? Horn said it was impossible, yet they can drag people through. How does a door only open in one direction?
Horn said he didn’t have the power to pull me through. So who does?
Why do they drag people through?
Gran says that those aware of Under, and those who can sense the crack between the worlds, also have a crack in their soul, something that lets the monsters dig their claws in. For my mother, it was the death of my father. He went back into the burning house to save me. I survived, but he died of smoke inhalation. Because of me, Mom lost her husband and Gran her daughter.
And now she has lost me.
Rocks tumble as someone climbs the outcrop, jolting me out of the self-pity that has wrapped itself around me. I can’t see whoever is climbing, not until they come around this side. Nor can I tell if they have six limbs or four.
My heart hammers on my ribs, and I grab a small rock without thinking. The weapon is fisted in my hand before I realize, and I force myself to let go of it and breathe.
If I fight, I become one of them.
If I can’t escape, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
The thought is a silken whisper, almost quiet enough that I don’t hear it or question it.IfI can’t escape, then I will consider it. How long do I give myself before I give up?
Horn’s crown appears as he climbs toward me. I can’t count how many horns break out of his skull, but it has to be uncomfortable when he sleeps.
Do monsters sleep?
He misses a handhold and slides a little way before catching himself and continuing up. Is he wounded? Is that why he’s clumsier?
Or was I so terrified I never noticed the slips the first time?
His claws curl over the ledge, and he hauls himself up.