Soulbound

21. Ashe

Despite having four witches chanting their binding spell around her, the enraged cougar was almost too much for even their magic to restrain. But the feline's pridemates were not helping matters, either. There were six of them in all, yowling in protest as they argued with the well-dressed witches that surrounded them. To their credit, though, the gattans did not try to intervene. They knew full well what the punishment would be if they did.

Killing the shifter would prove difficult even with the binding spell in place. The gata were swift, cunning, drawing their strength from the very cats they worshipped. Although, this one should have changed back by now; the ferae rarely lose control like this.

Even from a distance, I could make out the blood and spittle that matted her coarse blonde fur, her rounded ears laid back as she snapped and growled at her captors. She was larger than a normal-sized cougar, muscle rippling like waves beneath her skin as she struggled against the magic that held her at bay. One wrong move and she would easily tear those witches to shreds.

As I neared, I mentally weigh my options and decide that a direct assault would be most efficient. Hopefully Kerrigan's field agents can keep her locked in place long enough for me to—

One of the witches flinch, interrupting the binding spell for only a moment, but it was just enough time for the cougar to lunge. Before she can snuff the life from the suit in one fell swoop I close the distance between us with lightning speed, the chain link tattoo crawling along my skin as it responds to my silent command. Her primal rage assaults my senses, stirring my own anger, and I was glad that I had already fed on the lesser of two sins. With how this day has gone, I doubt I would be able to contain myself otherwise.

The witches stumble out of the way as I slam my shoulder into the gattan. Her claws rake down my back as I knock her to the ground and thrust the dagger into the soft spot between her ribs. Smoke billows from the fatal wound and the cougar yowls in anguish, gnashing her teeth and flaying my arms as she squirms under me in an attempt to break away. I bite back the pain as chains rip out from my skin and wrap around her.

Her anger melts away into unbridled fear as she desperately tries to free her limbs but the Reaper's mark keeps her pinned, burning her body and fettering her like a silver straight jacket. The smoke and stench of scorched flesh sting at my eyes and I grit my teeth, the metal chains constricting around us. With one final yell, I twist the blade in deeper until it pierces her heart and she finally stops moving.

I hate to admit it, but if it were not for the witches and their blood magic keeping the shifter restrained then that scuffle could have been a lot messier. Compared to the other tribes, what the gata lacked in raw strength they more than made up for in savagery.

“That was my baby!” one of the onlookers, an elderly woman with silver hair and glowing yellow eyes, cries out as I pull the blade from the cougar's ribcage. “You killed my grandbaby!”

I push myself to my feet with a groan. “She shifted in front of humans,” I mutter as I glance over my shoulder. My shirt was shredded and blood oozed from the deep gashes left behind by the gattan's claws. The wounds stung as the air hit them, but they would heal in a few hours. Whiskey would help with the pain.

“She was only sixteen, she didn't know what she was doing!” A short, stocky man with sandy blonde hair takes a menacing step forward. The witches act quickly, twirling their fingers as they wove their magic, and he snarls. “We could have talked her down!”