I pull a slow quiet breath, aware of his body shaking in anticipation of the change about to take place. But I can’t let him get there, can’t let him reach his demon state. The moment he transforms, I won’t stand a chance. None of us will.
Intending to wound just enough to delay him without causing any real harm, I lift the knife and sink it into his forearm. Using his moment of shock to jerk free of his grip and bolt for the stage.
By the time I reach the platform, Dace is sitting silent and rigid, dripping with snakes. As Suriel stands right beside him, lips parted in anticipation, eyes wide and glittering, waiting for the first one to strike.
I push against the platform, about to shout Dace’s name, when he turns to me with a strange silver gaze warning me to stay where I am. But I’m not sure I can do that. While I want to trust that he knows what he’s doing, I’ve yet to see any real evidence to prove that he does. For all I know, the first snake could’ve been a fluke. And, from the deep, guttural roar coming from the crowd, his brother is in the midst of transforming.
I step onto the stage, ready to deal with Suriel on my own terms, when a lone voice from the crowd rises above all the rest, urging them to join in.
“They’re fake! You’re a fake!” they all shout in unison, as though singing the chorus to the latest hit song. “You’ve removed their venom glands!”
And that’s when I notice what Dace was urging me to see.
Just like the rattler before, instead of striking, instead of sinking their venomous fangs into his flesh, these seven deadly snakes choose to slither lovingly over Dace’s shoulders and neck. Sidling up to his face, where they fondly flick their forked tongues at his cheek.
“Looks like I win,” Dace says, gazing upon an outraged Suriel. “So what do you say we end this charade, so we can all go inside and celebrate the New Year in peace.”
The crowd is enraged. Furious at Suriel for wasting their time, it’s not long before a hail of beer bottles soar toward his head, along with a fresh slew of insults, deeming him a fake, bogus, fraud, disassembling as quickly as they came.
But Suriel won’t go down easily. Having lost none of his fire, despite losing his audience, he reaches for the dagger and advances on Dace as I leap onto the stage, wielding my athame.
“Daire, I got this,” Dace says, his voice barely a whisper, though loud enough for me to hear. Still, I can’t help but look skeptical. He’s swarming with seven varieties of the world’s most venomous snakes, who despite their friendly appearance, can turn on him just as easily. “Trust me,” he says, through tightly clenched teeth. “I know what I’m doing.”
Taking him at his word, I lower my athame. Remaining on high alert as Suriel charges toward Dace.
Enraged at his snakes for turning against him, enraged at losing his crowd, he’s immune to his daughter’s desperate call, begging him to halt.
“Daddy—stop! I can do this!” she cries, her voice too close for my comfort. While Suriel may be able to ignore her, I can’t.
I whirl toward the empty space where the crowd once stood and find Phyre with Cade right beside her.
“The righteous will ascend—the Last Days are here!” Suriel looms before Dace, dagger at the ready.
Dace breaks free of his binding with a surprising lack of effort, and in a steady voice says, “It might be your last day—but it’s not mine.” With a curt nod of his head, all seven snakes fling themselves off Dace and land hard at Suriel’s neck.
Phyre screams.
Cade looks on with burning red eyes.
Suriel drops to his knees, face turned skyward, convinced he’ll prevail. Until all seven snakes sink their fangs into his flesh at the exact same moment, as though they’d struck a previous agreement. Leaving Suriel gasping and railing against the utter betrayal they’ve wrought upon him.
With a bloodcurdling shriek, he crumples into an agonized heap as the snakes continue to attack. Seven sets of fangs repeatedly biting into his skin, depositing lethal doses of poison into his body until they tire of the game and slither away. While Dace looks on with wide silver eyes. His entire body trembling, shaking, as though he’s caught in the grip of something extraordinarily powerful and completely unknowable.
Phyre leaps onto the stage. Wailing with grief, she flings her blood-spattered form to cover her father’s.
Blood-spattered?
Whose blood?
Despite her deep state of grieving, she appears physically fine.
And that’s when I see the blood-soaked dagger she grips in her fingers.
That’s when Cade’s voice awakens me with his screams.
“What the hell have you done to me, Seeker? I will kill you for this!” He lumbers toward the stage, his entire left side drenched in red.
“Change!” I shout, racing toward him. Horrified to see his eyes wild and blazing, but otherwise looking very much the same. “Change—now!” I scream, as though I could actually command such a thing. Unable to comprehend the scene unfolding before me, when Cade shakes his head, falls to his knees. For some reason he can’t make the shift.