The Raven and the Wraith Book 2 (Completed!)

The Raven and the Wraith 2 Chapter 54

The Raven and the Wraith 2 Chapter 54

I walked under that arch, trying to ignore the way the stone possums seemed to be watching me. Their beady eyes, their long, hairless rat tails, the unfettered malice burning just underneath their skin, it was all expertly captured by whatever demented artist had created this entrance.

The burned out, crumbling shells of vacant buildings lined the street, as far as the eye could see. The pallor of decay, of wrongness, draped its gray hand over everything, and I couldn't even imagine this part of the city ever having been anything other than this mockery of human construction. I hated it, I hated being here, I hated the drenching memories tied to this place.

I had wandered here, full of the arrogance of youth, certain I could handle myself, certain nothing in this forsaken place could really hurt me. I had been wrong. This hole was where those who had given up on life came to die. It's where they came to be consumed by Draelkin, to be reduced to nothing more than shambling, two-legged creatures, bent on destruction.

I remembered when I had wandered here after I fled The Council. After I had fled Genevieve's betrayal. I had despised my magic, I blamed it for tearing apart the only wonderful thing I had ever known. So I had ended up here, my magic shadowing me in the form of seven black cats.

The Draelkin had attacked me once I was in the center of Possum Hollow. I remembered how they surrounded me, crawling out of shadows, crevices, alleyways, hissing tonelessly, and I had fought. I fought with unrestrained ferocity, I killed and I felt my humanity slipping farther away with every strike of my blades.

Then my keen ears caught a distant, familiar sound, pulling me back from my memories. That soft hissing sound, crawling up past the throats of thousands of Draelkin, the sound of Despair given voice. I felt my instant rage in response, as if these foul things were so against my very being that just hearing them made me snarl uncontrollably. I couldn't tell where they were, but I knew they were closing in on me.

Just like that time when I first came here, I began to run. But unlike that time, I was not fleeing blindly. I had a suspicion that somewhere in this forsaken place was a link to the fallen Werecat. Some place or thing here that was tied to it. A link between the Draelkin and the Werecat.

I allowed my instincts to guide me. They were Werecat instincts, they provided an unerring path, and I ran on, trying to ignore the dreadful, hissing horde racing right behind me. Just like last time, I could hear them careening around corners, bouncing off walls, feverishly scrabbling with bloody fingers as they clawed their way back to their feet to resume the chase. It inspired an animal panic, a mindless construct of sheer terror, which I snarled at in my own mind, and fought it back. I would not run like a rabbit here again.

My path through twisting, fetid alleyways, rotting warehouses, and along crumbling courtyard walls finally led into a huge, central area of this part of the city. I could see no less than ten major streets emptied into this round clearing, and knew it would have been a gathering place, an open air market, before this place gave way to despair and filth.

In the center of the open circle stood a statue formed from thousands and thousands of small, white bones. It towered high above the tallest buildings nearby, casting a darker shadow than it should. I froze, staring up at it with a freezing mix of horror, disgust, and hatred.

It was a statue of a half human, half rat, midway through the transformation.

A Wererat.

As I recognized what it was, as I reeled from the chilling horror, I also recognized what the bones were that formed it. They were the bones of cats. Many thousands of cats. Then I saw all the small objects scattered throughout the clearing, surrounding the statue.

They sparkled and they glittered in the watery light, bits of brilliance against the unrelenting filth they lay in. Silver goblets, small necklaces, gold jewelry, diamond encrusted figurines. They had all first appeared to be strewn about chaotically, but now I saw they were actually arranged into a huge, six-sided star, circling the statue.

The Draelkin brought their treasures here, they worshipped this sickening foul statue. Just the idea that those dirty shells of humanity worshipped anything sent a sour twist deep into my stomach, and I staggered back a step. There was evil here, a mantle of it draped over the statue, over the buildings, seeping into the ground. Waiting.

The voiceless hissing echoed off the walls, confusing my senses. Was I truly, fully surrounded? My throwing knives were in my hands before I even thought it, as thousands of Draelkin came slinking out of every shadowy opening around the clearing. Their touch was as comforting as ever, but I remembered Riva's words.

She had called them dragon fangs. She had been wary of them, almost to the point of fear, which had shook me. How could the Werecat Queen be scared of two throwing knives? And why hadn't they seemed to bother the great black cat in any way?

She had told me to leave them behind. To leave them here. I scanned the group of Draelkin stalking towards me. They were all nearly identical to each other, just wispy, slinking black shapes, barely resembling a human. I held the blades above my head, bared my teeth, and snarled with the full depth of my hatred.

The Draelkin paused. I looked around, scanning their faces, meeting the cold, empty sockets where their eyes should be.

"That's right! I have what you want! Right here!" I flourished the blades, a quick swipe through the air.

As I suspected, they moved as one, their heads swiveling to watch the blades with unholy, unwavering intensity. Then, once I was sure they were focused only on the blades, I walked to the statue, climbed up, and carefully placed the two knives into the waiting sockets in its upper jaw. Completing its set of fangs.