Chase is sprawled on the stones, his mouth open, and hands grasping, as he tries to pull the power. But Aiden's doing something—he's got Chase by the neck, his lips peeled back from his teeth, head whipping back and forth, horrible noises erupting from his throat—and with each guttural howl, Chase weakens.
It's as if Aiden isn't the one fighting.
Then I see it, and I want to scream.
Aiden's on top of Chase. He isn't big enough to hold Chase by himself. But he doesn't have to.
The path is dark, yet Aiden's shadow exists.
Before my horrified eyes, a tangled, bloodthirsty beast is growing up around him and it's clawing into Chase.
I can smell its hot breath. See the moonlight glinting on its talons. Hear its huffing breath. Feel its desire for blood--for death.
And I can't move.
