Chapter 11 Blood Moon Reckoning

The forest was quiet except for Seraphine’s bloodied lips and intermittent raspy breaths. The ground was slippery with the blood of her fallen comrades and the beast that lay dead, but not before bringing death to the earth. But none of it mattered. Her mind, her soul they were on one thing and one thing only: Ash. He remained there on the ground, motionless, a puddle of blood bloom building around his chest. The knife was half-cupped in his fist, his fingers frozen and dead. Every part of Seraphine’s being demanded she go to him, heal him, do anything to bring him back. And the blood, the warm, familiar blood pooling on the forest floor, spoke for itself. "No. No,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat as she dropped to her knees next to him. The color had drained from Ash’s face, too pale, and his breaths were shallow. He was no longer warm but would be for a while. She couldn't let him die. She wouldn't. Not after everything. Not when he was everything to her. Her hand shook as she brought it to his chest, searching for a pulse. For one heartbeat. There was nothing, however. “Oh, Ash, come on, come on.” She yanked open his jacket, fingers swift over the buttons, searching madly for a wound. This deep; there had been so much "tearing" on that ragdoll's chest that even he had thought that all a chest might just pop out, "And all those ribs too. It had started fresh, gushing blood. She clenched her jaw, willing herself to think, to repress the panic rising in her chest. She had seen wounds like this before. She had healed others, untold others. But this? This was different. This wasn't just any injury. This was Ash. The man she loved. Her claws scraped across his skin as she hoisted him up; her body was acting of its own volition as she desperately tried to stop the blood flow. But nothing seemed enough. The faintest glimmer of recognition mantled his eyes as they locked with hers. “Seraphine,” he rasped, his voice low and hoarse, barely clear but the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You. You're still here." “Of course I’m here, you fool! She retorted, and her eyes got watery. “You think I’m just going to let you die? Get up, Ash. I'm not done with you. We're not done." His hand fluttered there, reaching for her weakly, fingers grazing her cheek. His touch was chillier than it ought to have been. "You're. too late." His voice was barely audible, each of his words a struggle. "Don't you dare say it!" “Seraphine,” she screamed, her voice cracking. She bent over him, touching her forehead to his. She felt the heat of his body dissipate, the life ebbing from him. "I won't let you die, Ash. I swear to God, I won't." She felt the beast within her, clawing, wanting. It was still there, this wild, primordial part of her that would live and only live for a kill, the fight. It pulsed through the blood, through the veins, a life force pumping its way through a body with more ferocity than made even the most human of men. Something had to release it. Have to let rip through her through him; it was the only way to save him. Which she couldn't. Not how. Not then. Because there was still life in the man. But what if she could? Her heart pounded in her chest as she remembered all the stories she had heard, the things she had done at the worst possible moments of her life. There were remedies; there were ways to heal, to save. But they came at a cost. They always did. And the cost of what she was about to do was too great for her to bear. Her gaze found Ash’s, looking for some kind of clue. She could find some. He was fading, allowing his hand to droop from her cheek. Rendered uselessly quiet, the beat in his neck had almost stilled. “No,” she gasped, her voice quavering. "No, no, no!" There was no time for her to hesitate. She couldn’t afford it. The beast roared in her mind, and in its echo, the answer sharpened. She would do it if it were the only way to save him. Her hands shook as she placed them upon him, gliding the palms along the curves of his chest, calling up the power, the blackness that dwelled in her: magic. “She mutters something low beneath her breath in ancient and forbidden tongues. You could feel where the curse gripped; it might already be beginning to stretch the air on both sides for life itself for it to draw sustenance from earthly origins. “Seraphine…” Ash said, his voice breaking. "What are you?" I love you,” she said, quivering, leaning down to kiss him. It hit her with that same rush of power, coursing through her out to him a jolt of lightning. Her body convulsed under his, and she yanked away, gasping for breath. His chest rose and then fell slowly, deliberately, as if a man had just awoken from a nightmare. His pulse was restored, steady and strong. But it wasn't just that. It was something else. Something darker. Ash looked up, startled and alert. He shoved her off, hands flying up to his neck as if to prevent something there. But there was nothing there. His skin wasn't burning. He wasn't dying. Instead, he was alive again. “Seraphine, what the fuck did you do? ” His voice was low, a strained panic. I saved you,” she said, breathing for relief. "I had to." Ash lay back in a shiver all over. He dragged her closer to him again. But he held her too tightly for at least one moment of her life. But he was too quick with the breath, and he was too savage-eyed. "What have you done?" he forced out then, shaking the words against tight lips, off past her gaze. I saved you,” she said again, but this time, there was no conviction to it. She could feel the change. And she could feel him slipping from her, slipping into darkness, slipping into danger. The beast was waking in him just as it had welled up in her; the curse she'd put upon his soul was echoing back. “No,” Ash snarled, shoving her from him. "No, I'm not like you. I can't." He halted, hands dropping to his waist. His gaze became cold and hollow, as if something in him had shattered. “I can’t live like this,” he said softly, every word a pained torment. “Nor can I,” Seraphine said, stifling a sob. “But we don’t have a choice anymore.” But. She won’t say another word, not as she is drowned out by the roar of engines in the distance. “Fuck,” Ash whispered, craning his head up. "They're coming." Seraphine felt her heart sink, dread filling her. They weren't finished. The war was far from over. And the battle? This is only just the beginning.