Chapter Thirty-Eight – Stephanie

 

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”

“I can’t believe they’re getting out of the way!”

The crowd ahead was literally being flipped away from us by some unseen force, with people being bodily shoved and lifted into the air as we bounced and raced ahead.

Despite the madness in front of us, I couldn’t help but look to the stage. Really, I couldn’t do anything to stop it! It was like a hand had firmly gripped my head and twisted it that way, forced me to watch as Ryder trained his gun on the woman that couldn’t be anyone but Esther’s sister.

“No!” I shouted. “No, Ryder! Hurry, Jeff!”

“Going as fast as I can, champ! Want me to flip this thing?”

“I don’t give a shit, as long as we get there in time!”

But it was too late. I watched the gun jump in his hand from the recoil, watched Marguerite tumble backwards from the shot, her body leaving the circle where she’d been standing.

Moments later, Jeff slammed on the brakes as the crowd cleared from the stage in front of us, went streaming out to the nearest exits. Still, Jeff’s hand was on the horn, even as I threw open the door and leaped down to the trampled pasture.

“No!” I screamed again as I ran toward the stage.

Ryder was already advancing on the fallen witch, though, his pistol raised. A look had come over him, some kind of strange possession. His eyes looked, but I knew they couldn’t really see. He didn’t flinch or budge, even as I yelled his name again.

Esther’s voice boomed over the screaming crowd behind us, over the rumbling of the diesel engine of Jeff’s salt truck. “Do it!”

Marguerite’s hand flashed, just like Esther’s had earlier that morning when Ryder and I had fought her, and Ryder stumbled back, his pistol flying from his hand. It went spinning off into the grass, landing somewhere behind me.

Esther growled her contempt, her hair rising up behind her. “Shift! Shift, damn you!”

“No!” I screamed again. “No, Ryder!”

He glanced back at me, his eyes widening with the realization that I was standing there. That I’d come to help him, that I wanted to see him again. He wavered for a long moment, clearly shaken by the choice he needed to make.

“You don’t have to do this,” I yelled, running up to the stage, trying to climb up to join him. “Turn on Esther, bring her down!”

Jeff came running up behind me, boosting me up onto my stomach and flipping me around so I could clamber to my feet.

“Stephanie?” Ryder asked, taking a step towards me. Beside him, still in the magical circle, Marguerite lay, gripping her arm. She breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling, as she kept one hand up to fend off whatever magical attack Esther was using on her.

“Ryder! Fight her off! Turn on her!”

“No!” Esther roared. “He is mine!” As if on a leash, Ryder was yanked back to her, spinning around to face his mistress.

Hands curled into claws, I advanced on her. Witch or no witch, a hundred fifty years old or not, there was no way I was going to let her use him like this. Not my man!

But it was too late. Before I’d taken two steps, Ryder was changing. Sleek black fur was sprouting from his skin, and his clothes were being ripped to shreds as his whole body elongated, and a long, agile tail grew from his backside. He fell forward on his hands and knees, now fore and rear paws, and roared.

I gasped in awe as I took a step back.

My God, he was beautiful. As black as night, with a tail as thick as my arm. Flashing fangs, and muscles barely concealed beneath his shining coat.

How had I ever thought he’d be a monster? How could I have ever thought something so majestic could be awful? “Ryder?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Is that really you?

His great head whipped around to face me, and the lips of his maw curled back to reveal shining white fangs and teeth, all razor sharp, all capable of tearing me in two.

I squeaked in terror. Okay, that was how I’d thought he could be a monster!

“Kill her!” Esther boomed.

I turned to the witch, my hands going from claws to fists.

“Kill Marguerite!”

Ryder’s eyes flickered away from mine as his great head swung back to the fallen witch, some twenty feet away.

“No!” I screamed. “Ryder, don’t!”

Like a giant cat on steroids, he crouched back on his hind legs, coiled his whole body like a spring with his tail swishing back and forth, then leaped through the air.

I don’t know why I yelled it, but I did it. It was as if all the trauma, and the fear, and the longing building since this had all begun, boiled up within me and came flooding out.

“I love you, Ryder!” I called. “Fight her!”