It felt like I was committing suicide as I dove down the stairs. I couldn’t even pull the trapdoor shut above me to buy myself some more time. It was broken, splintered to pieces. Landing with a crash at the foot of the staircase, I loped along the hallway toward the small storage room where the box had been kept.
I knew this ship like the back of my hand—it was my ship, mine and the Mansons’—but in my panic, my brain almost forgot my way around. The state of the ship didn’t help. Good grief… The whole lower deck was horribly disfigured. They’d wreaked havoc, shredding the walls and ceilings with their claws.
My heart was in my throat as their footsteps descended the stairs. I reached the storage room where I’d left the box. A horrid, vile smell filled my nostrils even as I exhaled in relief to find that the box was still here. Its lid was open, and when I hurried up to it, it was filled with the rotting body of a werewolf. I felt nauseous from the stench. Who put this in here? I wasn’t sure how long the body had been lying there, but it was already riddled with maggots and flies.
Clenching my jaw, I held my breath and dove my hands into the box. Grabbing hold of the thick fur around the wolf’s neck, I tugged with all my strength. The body was heavy and bloated, and though I could handle the sheer weight, I was physically much smaller than the beast. I managed to pull it out of the box, but as the body flopped to the floor, it crashed down against my shins and feet. I lost balance on the slippery floor and collapsed onto the werewolf’s body, which, to my horror, squelched like a water balloon. A burst of brownish liquid burst forth from the werewolf’s mouth and doused me. Although I was trying to keep quiet, I couldn’t help but shriek. The corpse’s smell was overpowering as it was, and now to be soaked in its putrid body juice…
Footsteps sounded outside in the corridor. I hurtled to the other side of the room and jammed a shelf against the door. That would do nothing to prevent them from entering, but at least it would act as a slight deterrent. The door handle rattled and fists pounded against the door. My blood throbbed in my ears as I turned away from the door to face the corpse of the werewolf again. If my adrenaline had not been raging so much, I probably would’ve passed out by now just from the smell alone, never mind the crowd of Bloodless about to break in.
My eyes fell on the white box. The “Elder box”, as Benjamin had called it.
I’ve found the box. But now what? I hadn’t thought further ahead than this. Aisha hadn’t given me the time to. Wood splintered. The pounding was growing heavier and more violent against the door.
Think! I ordered myself, although all I wanted to do was scream.
And then it was too late.
The weight I’d barricaded the door with gave way and the Bloodless began spilling into the storage room.
This was the end. I was a rabbit cornered by a pack of wolves. There was no point in even fighting. What could I do in this tiny room? There weren’t even any windows here.
I closed my eyes tight, praying that at least the pain wouldn’t be too unbearable. And whatever I emerged as after this, my brain wouldn’t have turned into a vegetable.…
My whole body tensed as I steeled myself for the monsters’ claws to slice my flesh and fangs to sink deep into my neck.
But neither happened.
Daring to open my eyes, I was shocked to see that the Bloodless had stopped still, about three feet away from me. Braithe was near the front of the crowd that had burst into the room. They stared at me, their small eyes fixed on me intently. I didn’t know what they were waiting for. And I was even more clueless when the Bloodless began to back away out of the door. As though I’d somehow just become… Uninteresting to them. Unpalatable.
I gazed down at my own form. I was covered in rotten corpse fluid. The smell—obnoxious as it was—could that really have put them off me?
Emboldened by this sudden, unexpected turn of events, I left the room too and cautiously followed them. Braithe had been among the last to leave the room, and now he was the closest to me in the corridor. I didn’t know what madness possessed me, or rather what desperation, but I found myself quickening my pace and extending my hand. I reached up and closed it around Braithe’s rawboned shoulder.
He let out a hiss and whirled around to face me, his fangs bared, his nose wrinkled in a snarl. My pulse raced, but I did not flinch. I remained rooted to my spot, staring at the abomination who’d once been my lover’s brother. Though he appeared agitated, Braithe was still making no move to launch at me.
The other Bloodless who’d been loping down the corridor also turned around to look me over, but they soon got bored of me and turned around. Braithe, on the other hand, stayed watching me longer. I wanted to believe that a small part of him remembered me, but more likely, it was because I had reached out and touched him. After several moments, he also appeared to get bored of me and turned around to follow after the others.
The moment his back was turned to me, I reached out and clutched his shoulder again. Only this time, I didn’t let go. I was sure that I had lost all sanity at this point, but all I could do was act on my raw instinct. He hissed more loudly this time, but on turning around, he still did not attempt to lash out at me. If anything, he looked like he just wanted to squirm away, the way one would shrug away from a hairy spider.
He tried to shake off my grasp again, but I held on tight. My hand slid down his arm and settled around his right wrist. I tugged on him. He was strong—frighteningly strong for a creature of such meager build—and he didn’t budge an inch. I pulled on him harder—much harder than I was comfortable with. I managed to move him a bit this time, even as his almost nonexistent lips curled.