Tooth: An Alpha Like No Other (A Song of Starlight Book 1) Page 14

  She turns to the door, but the second she lets go of me she stumbles across the room, crashing into the wall. I rush to her and hold her up. She spits onto the tiles. “That really took it out of me.”

  “No, it didn’t.”

  She looks at me sideways. “I can barely walk.”

  “You’re alive, you’re awake, you can talk, and you haven’t sustained any serious injuries. Lila, you just did something which has never been done in the history of magic. You killed dozens of vampires without looking a single one of them in the eye.”

  “We did that,” Lila says. She reaches down and lays her hand upon mine.

  “I was just the go-between,” I say, savoring the feel of her. Despite the madness, I’m glad. She doesn’t hate me. Thank the all-father.

  “We need to leave. But I’m too weak and I’m guessing—”

  “I’m not leaving you here on your own,” I finish.

  “I thought as much.” She winces. She takes a step back, standing as straight as she’s able, gripping the wall with her hand. She looks at me with her forest-green eyes, eyes that are more perfect than the lushest grove. “Then we need to kiss,” she says. She speaks in a matter-of-fact tone, a tone that says, this is just business, this is just what we have to do. But I scent her, I know her, I love her. She wants to kiss me, though the circumstances are frantic. She wants me again, I think, blood getting hot.

  “To heal you.”

  “To make us both stronger,” she says. “Look. I like to think of myself as a practical person. I won’t pretend that my mind isn’t spinning from all of this. Monsters and magic and you, a demi-god, and me at the center of it all. I won’t pretend it feels normal to me. But practically, it seems that the energy inside of us is made for each other. It can heal us. It can be harnessed. So, practically speaking, we need to kiss.”

  “Practically speaking.”

  She licks her lips. When she next speaks, her voice is softer. “But don’t think that means I don’t want to.” She gestures with her free hand. “Whenever you’re ready. Time is pressing.”

  Damn it all, I think, if she isn’t the bravest, most resilient, most beautiful, strongest, fieriest, hardest woman I’ve met in all my life.

  I take her hand. She falls into me. Her body presses close to mine and I feel the heat of her, all of her, surging through me. I feel the tight dancer’s muscles of her body, hard and perfect, press into my new-healed skin. I feel her heartbeat, pounding with lust. Her lips tremble and her cheeks turn red. She closes her eyes and turns her face up to me, pursing her lips. If ever there was such a thing as a flawless image, it is Lila, now. I find myself wishing I had a camera so I could capture her beauty.

  She makes an hmmm noise which threatens to drive me crazy.

  Then, I lean in. My lips are hungry for the feel of her. Not just the Woman of Starlight, but Lila. Brave Lila. Strong Lila. Beautiful Lila. Smart Lila. Practical Lila.

  When our lips touch, Other and starlight clash together. But it’s more than that. Lila heals; I feel her energy seeping back into her, the magical union of an age-old child of god and her brand-new, fresh power.

  But what I feel most is the moist pressure of her lips, the way she opens her mouth and pushes her tongue into mine; she moans hungrily, urgently. As her strength returns, she brings her hands to my face. The tips of our tongues clash dozens of times. Passion rises like an over-boiling pot inside of me, eager to be unleashed. Lila moves her hands from my face and to my shoulders and then down my back, tearing at me with her nails.

  Then, with an effort I sense in the Other, she steps back.

  She looks up at me. I think: There has never been a more beautiful woman on this planet. Take your models, your toyed-with rich girls, your reality stars, your actresses, take all the women in this and all worlds and put them against my Lila and she will win.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she says, breathless.

  “Because I love you.”

  She turns to the door. “I’m better now. It worked.”

  I swallow. She doesn’t want to say it, not here, not in real life, until Casey is safe.

  “Then we should go,” I mutter.

  Lila walks to the door. “Where is she?”

  I check the Other. “She’s on the second floor of the town hall. She’s stopped scurrying around now. She must be hiding.”

  Pride touches Lila’s smile. “She’s brave. Isaac would be proud.”

  “I never knew the man,” I say, joining her at the door, “but I think he would be proud of you, too.”

  She’s about to push the door open when she remembers. She gestures at the handle. “Is it safe now?” She shows me her hand. “I hurt myself pretty bad . . .” She trails off. Her palm is raw and pink, but unmarked; the blood and the scabs are gone. “What are we?” she murmurs in wonder, opening and closing her healed hand.

  “Two people who are infinitely stronger when we’re together than when we’re apart.”

  “The pain is gone, all of it.”

  “Good. And the door is safe now. The barrier wore off minutes ago.”

  Lila touches the handle to be sure. She twists it and pushes the door open. A gust of wind whips into the cabin, circulating stale air.

  I grab Lila by the arm before she steps out. “There’s going to be fighting. The vampires might be dead—all except Abraham, anyway—but there are more Horde. Let me do the fighting for you, Lila.”

  “As long as Casey is safe, I don’t care who does the fighting.” She touches my face and then, as if on a sudden impulse, throws herself at me and gives me a quick peck on the cheek.

  “What was that for?” I ask, bringing my hand to my cheek, feeling the lingering kiss.

  “That was to make you let go of my arm.”

  She jumps out of the cabin.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Lila

  As I run through the forest, I’m still reeling.

  I feel like I’ve taken a ride on the craziest roller-coaster at the craziest theme park. First, there was anger and resentment. Then confusion and a surreal dance in the past. Now, there’s solidarity. I know I won’t be able to forgive Tooth if something happens to Casey, but I can’t deny that when we kissed, my body hungered for him. He saved her, I think. He used me to save her. I don’t know the ins and outs of this mad new world, but I know one thing. Tooth and I are a team.

  Tooth catches up with me quickly. Now that we’re outside, he looks dead-serious. His lips are set flatly and his blue-black eyes flit around the forest. He stretches his arms as he runs, as though in awe of how quickly he’s recovered.

  After a few minutes of running—feel it, Lila, feel how fit and healthy and full of energy you are; you can do anything with this man; together, you are untouchable—we reach the outskirts of town. Tooth grabs my wrist and pulls me behind a tree.

  “What are you doing?”

  He nods at the building just beyond the forest.

  It’s Mr. Marston’s garden center. Mr. Marston has always been extremely proud of his store. I remember skipping past it as a girl, on one of those rare days when I felt carefree and childlike, and being in awe of the elaborate arrangement of potted plants. Rows and rows of them, some set on the sidewalk, others on an ornately carved table. It was the same with Mr. Marston himself; he was as well-presented as his wares. A kind-faced, smiling old man who always did good business because of it. Now, dirt and shards of pots are spread across the sidewalk. Weeds and stems and petals squashed into the floor. The window is shattered. And Mr. Marston, the kind-faced man, is now no-faced; he sits propped up against his store with his face torn from his head, a mass of red and white and dark brown.

  “There’s something in there,” Tooth whispers. “Look.”

  I look past the storefront and through the shattered glass. I see its back first, leaning over something and spitting over and over again. The sound is the worst part. A harsh hawkkk-kah, hawkkk-kah! Dredging up its lungs. It turns an
d morning sunlight shines on it like a spotlight. Around five feet, with a squashed face and jagged shark’s teeth, a bald head, and thick muscular arms. It wears a torn red shirt and its fingernails are long and sharp.

  “A retcher. Monsters designed by warlocks. Incredibly strong, with acidic saliva.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t care what this beast is. All I care about is Casey, hidden somewhere in the town hall, surrounded by evil.

  “We need to press on,” I tell Tooth.

  “I know,” he replies. “Wait here.”

  I kneel down. “Be quick.”

  I watch as Tooth jogs toward Mr. Marston’s store. The retcher turns when Tooth crunches over the destroyed plant pots. Hurry, I think. We need to keep Casey safe. I think about the fever dream, about Isaac; that little boy took beatings for me, protected me. There’s no way I’m going to let his daughter come to harm. But I can’t do it without Tooth.

  Tooth whistles and the retcher hobbles to the window. It squints at him, hawks, and then makes to spit. I’ll never get used to how quickly Tooth moves. He ducks the spit—a green-yellow bubbling globule—darts at the window, grabs a spike of glass, and stabs the creature in the head. The retcher claws at Tooth’s hand, but the spike is buried deep and it stumbles to its knees, coughs once, spilling acid down its chest, and then falls onto its face.

  Tooth waves a hand at me, glancing up and down the street.

  We press on.

  We sneak through ruined streets.

  I’m constantly shocked by the devastation of the town. Cars are overturned, windows smashed, roofs and doors and trunks wrenched away and discarded in the street. Corpses line the sidewalks or lay in the road. Almost all the stores have smashed windows and kicked-in doors. I see dozens of people I knew from my life before. When I first see one of these dead-eyed corpses, I gasp. By the time I’ve seen my twentieth, I’m no longer gasping. The shock numbs me. The parents of my students, the students themselves, casual acquaintances, old teachers, people I only ever nodded to in the street. All of them gone.

  We rush from shadow to shadow, hiding behind the ruined shells of cars and the alleyways between destroyed stores. We hold our breath as the Horde creep past the street, slathering, coughing, growling. I have to clamp my hand over my mouth when I see the fuser (Tooth tells me its name). Two people, joined waist to waist to waist by magic, no lower halves to their shared body. They walk on four arms, loping like a dazed insect. Their skin is a deathly shade of grey and their heads snap here and there with an animal’s instinct.

  When it’s past, I let out a long breath and we run across the road.

  We’re two streets over from the town hall when they walk out in front of us.

  We freeze. There are around ten of them. I’ve seen enough wizards and witches now to know that’s what they are. A couple of the women are dressed in pointed hats and cloaks. A couple of the men hold staffs and sport beards. But mostly it’s the sick, hungry look on their faces which tells me what they are. Their leader, a man in a dark blue cloak holding a white staff, with a pointed jet-black goatee, steps forward.

  Tooth takes me by the arm and pushes me behind him, shielding me.

  I look over his shoulder at them, heart crushing in my chest. Ten. If any of them are as strong as those witches outside the school, Tooth might have to touch the Other, and if Tooth has to touch the Other . . .

  I swallow.

  We stand in the middle of the street, surrounded by wreckage as though in the aftermath of looting.

  I feel Tooth’s fear. He’s not scared for himself, but for me. He puffs his chest up and spreads his arms at his sides, fists clenched.

  “I am Mirkle Sid,” the leader says, grinning. “And you are Tooth, the God Who Walks, and this lovely lady, I assume, is the Woman Who Will End the World, yes?”

  “Walk away,” Tooth says. “Just walk away and I won’t kill you.”

  Mirkle giggles, stroking his devilish beard. “No, no, no. I don’t think so. We are many. You are few. Oh, yes, you will kill a couple of us. But all of us, dear Tooth? My grandfather knew you once, you know. Do you remember a man in this world’s second Great War who—”

  “I don’t care.” Tooth’s tone grows dark. “I’ve met many Horde. Bet your grandad was just as boring as the rest of them.”

  I hug close to his back. If one of the wizard’s bolts hits Tooth, he growls, he heals. If one of them hits me—what? I die, but what happens when I die? Do I explode? The idea would’ve seemed absurd a few weeks ago, but there’s nothing absurd about the bomb-like power in my belly.

  Casey, I think, a twinge that reaches into Tooth.

  I feel an answering twinge. Wordless, but I get the message. There are too many. We may have to run.

  “Insults? The legends describe you as an intelligent man.” Mirkle turns to his friends. “It seems the legends lied.” They all laugh.

  Tooth sighs. “You people amaze me. How many of you do I have to kill before you get the point?”

  Mirkle shrugs. “I am a Dark Mage.” Tooth’s body tenses at the word. “Ursa Blackwood was my mistress. I think you know her, don’t you? She beat you in the ’twenties.”

  “And now she’s dead.”

  “And now she’s dead,” Mirkle agrees. “But she did not fear death. None who directly touch the Other are. So we will fight, and we will take your red-haired prize—”

  “You’ll die,” I spit. “You’ll all die. You have no idea what you’re messing with.”

  Mirkle looks at me sideways, as though surprised I’ve spoken. “You sound like this one.” He nods at Tooth. His eyes widen a fraction. “Oh, the prophecies were true. There really is a connection between the two of you, isn’t there? How fascinating. Is it love? Or is it more than love? Oh, to feel such a bond!”

  “Enough,” Tooth says. “Just leave. I’ve done enough killing for a thousand men, but don’t think I won’t add to the number.”

  Mirkle licks his lips. The wizards and witches at his sides bristle.

  And then—

  Tooth throws himself up, intercepting the bolt of power which zips through the air. It crashes into his chest. He lands with a growl and then turns, being careful to keep my body behind his. “Run!” he screams.

  I don’t think. I just sprint. I sprint as fast as I can, legs pumping, breath loud in my ears. I feel Tooth behind me. He doesn’t fight. He just dodges here and there with godly speed, blocking the magic the witches and wizards fling at us. Fire and lightning spill over him. Embers settle on my skin. I wipe them away. I run like an animal, not thinking, just desperate to get away from these deranged magic-throwers. It seems like a long time, but it must only be a few seconds. Then I crash through the door of the post office and leap over the counter, crouching low. Tooth jumps after me.

  I peek up. One of the wizards makes to pursue us, followed closely by his friends, all of them crowding around the door.

  Tooth, with a world-weary groan, begins to chant his strange words. His skin glows as though bruised, and then the wizards take a startled step back.

  Mirkle hurls a fireball. It explodes against the invisible barrier.

  “Ha!” he cries, dancing back. “The power of this one . . . Ursa did not lie. But she told me something, Tooth. She told me these little barriers of yours do not last indefinitely. Don’t fear! We can wait! Soon, nightfall will be here and the Man in Black himself will join us! Then we will see how strong your power really is.”

  Tooth offers me his hand. I take it and he leads me into the backroom, a storage space filled with shelves, packages and envelopes resting on them. He paces around the room, searching it for Horde. When we’re sure it’s empty, we go to an office in the back. He slumps down on a chair, baring his teeth and rubbing his eyes with his thumbs.

  “The Other is a mean master.”

  “Tooth.” I move close to him. “You know we have to get to Casey.”

  “There’s too many of them.” He grits his teeth. �
��Far too many.”

  “We have to get to Casey,” I repeat. “That has to happen. And it needs to happen before nightfall, before the Horde . . .” I can’t say it. I imagine Isaac watching me, the judgment on his face. I hear imagined words: Why have you not saved my daughter, Lila? After everything I’ve done for you, why haven’t you saved her?

  “I know. But I’ve touched the Other, again. If I hadn’t, they would have killed you.” He winces as he says the words, as though the idea alone causes him pain.

  I pace up and down the room for a few minutes, and then it hits me.

  Trembling—with lust, excitement, fear, desperation, anger, and longing—I go to him and place my hand on his shoulder. Being with Tooth is an experience unlike being with any other man. With him, I can forget, if only for a little while, about the madness waiting for us outside. I can forget about the pain and the blood and the fighting that will follow.

  He turns his face up to me and I think: I have never seen a more handsome man. I want him. That’s the truth.

  “A kiss healed you,” I say. “I don’t understand it, not completely, but I know it has something to do with us. When we’re together, we’re stronger. So . . .” I swallow, suddenly nervous. I fight back the nerves; there are more important things to worry about right now. “So what if we made love? That would make you stronger. I’m sure of it. That would make you strong enough to kill those witches and wizards.”

  He stares into my face, his expression mirroring my own, caught somewhere between pragmatism and lust. “And you would do that? Just to make me stronger, just to save Casey?”

  “Yes and no,” I say, rubbing his shoulder. I’m getting hot, I think in wonder. How can I be getting hot at a time like this? But I am. My body begins to tingle, a starlight-, lust-filled tingling. “I would do it for Casey and I would do it because I want to. It would work. I know it would.”

  Tooth stands up, grinding his teeth with the effort. His chest heaves, sweat slides down his forehead, and he looks at me as I’ve often dreamed to be looked at. An expression of complete absorption. An expression that says: I want you more than I want anything in this world.