Page 128 of Claim the Light
Now, I carefully consider the glowing stone along with the intense growls on the other side of the wall. I make out the sharp clanging of metal—possibly chains, judging by the way the sounds seem to slither and rattle. Then voices again—both the man’s and the woman’s—followed finally by retreating footfalls, heavy ones.
Silence.
I’m not sure if they’ve both gone, but if I don’t try to escape now, I may never get another chance.
Racing to the lone chair, I pick it up, throw my arm across my eyes to protect them from flying debris, and then I bash the chair against the wall where it’s cold and hard.
The chair’s legs snap off. One of them shatters. And now they’re perfect for digging through hot stone without burning my fingers. Assuming the wood doesn’t catch fire, but I’ll deal with that if it happens.
Crouching low to the heated portion of wall, I begin gouging the surface as fast as I can, dragging the jagged wood through it. Splinters immediately catch in my palms and I pause to retrieve my mother’s old shirt, wrapping the tattered material around my hands and using my teeth to tie it before I resume my task.
The wood isn’t as sharp as my claws and it’s slower to cut through, snapping off at intervals and frustrating my progress.
I persist until the moment a chunk on the other side falls away.
The opening is only as big as my hand, not nearly large enough for me to slide through, but certainly big enough to allow sounds and smells to rush in.
My moment of elation is destroyed by the savage growls and strong scents of dark beasts.
A mouth full of teeth gnashes at the opening on the other side, silvery teeth gleaming at me in the darkness. A silvery eye flashes across the opening as the creature takes a quick look at me before resuming its gnashing.
Fuck!
I scuttle back from the opening.
The overlapping snarling sounds coming from the other side tell me there’s more than one of those beasts, whatever the fuck they are. But the scents are all theirs. Whoever the woman and man were, they’re gone.
I sift through my mother’s descriptions of dark creatures and land on a few options for what the snarling creatures could be, but I would need to see more of their bodies to be sure.
Like that’s going to happen in any safe fashion.
My hopes are now in turmoil.
If I make the opening big enough that I can escape through it, the creatures will also be able to get through to my side.
If I somehow manage to keep the opening small enough only for my body—which is not guaranteed if the beasts are slimmer than me—I’d have to shimmy through headfirst or feetfirst and either way, they’d rip me apart before I made it more than a few inches.
I switch my focus to the door, tentatively pressing on it. It’s also made of stone and sits seamlessly in the wall, but it has remained locked. Even if it weren’t, I can’t be sure I won’t step right into the path of the beasts outside.
For all I know, Zadkiel may have placed those creatures there as a second line of defense if I were ever to get out.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
What’s worse, now that I’ve made a hole in the wall, he will see it. He’ll know the magic was somehow broken and he’ll punish me for itandI’m sure he’ll find a way to fix it.
He could come along at any moment now.
I crouch low to the ground as a sense of finality settles over me.
I’m certain I’ll die in a fight with him. Of all the things my mother taught me, it’s that Zadkiel isn’t an ordinary angel. Unlike many other supernaturals, he has the strength to kill me.
But a chance like this hasn’t presented itself for twenty-three years. It may not happen again.
If I don’t try now…
I retrieve my mother’s old skirt. I was saving it for when my black dress got too ragged, but it’s time to take chances. Ripping the skirt into smaller pieces, I wrap one of them around my other palm to protect my skin.
I choose the two sharpest planks of wood from the remains of the broken chair.
