She fought her way along the tentacle as Marty attempted to shift into her werewolf form with a snarl, her eyes glowing in the turbulent black night.
Toni refused to give in to the sheer terror of seeing hair sprout on Marty’s face and long claws grow from her fingertips—this was a woman who’d looked out for her and just because she was a hundred times scarier than anything she’d seen on TV, was no reason to chicken out now.
As Marty launched herself at Pricilla’s side as though her feet had springs, her teeth bared, Pricilla caught her midair, snatching her up and rolling her tentacle around the werewolf.
And still, Toni climbed upward along a swerving, rocking Pricilla, ignoring the frantic screams from everyone below, gritting her teeth as she inched forward, the sword heavy and slowing down her progress.
You have a job to do. Cut the bitch’s head off, her body said. Do it!
You know, I’m washing my hands of you. We’re done. If you want to commit fairytale-a-cide, you go, girl. I’ll wait, her brain said.
“Toni! Wait for me, milady!”
Jon?
She turned and looked back to find Jon, hot on her tail, using his strong legs as he, too, worked his way up Pricilla’s body hand over hand, fighting the torrential downpour and the hard sleet that had begun to form. Relief swelled in her chest as he came closer, her heart pumping with joy.
When he caught up with her, he planted a hand on her butt and pushed her upward, sliding her along until she reached the large swell of Pricilla’s hip.
That was when all hell broke loose. Pricilla flailed, her whole form shivering so violently, they were thrown into the air. Jon managed to grab her around the waist just as the witch launched them forward like tennis balls being shot from a machine. Toni clung to the sword with all her might against the brutal force of the wind.
They landed atop a rock, overlooking the ocean, the rough surface scraping against her skin as they skidded to a halt.
Jon was the first to rise, and in that moment, soaking wet, his wide chest heaving, his hair plastered to his face, Toni’s heart did something so unexpected, she almost doubled over.
It pounded, throbbed, crashed at the mere thought of losing Jon.
“Give him back or I’ll make ye my meal!” Dannan screeched from below, forcing Toni to her feet as she dragged the sword with her and looked down at the shoreline.
Pricilla had Carl.
No. No. No! Her pulse slammed in her ears, fear coursed icy-hot through her veins, her limbs shook, but the hell she was going to let this lunatic hurt Carl.
And poor Carl, helpless, his eyes wide, his reindeer form frozen in terror, pissed her off. Fuck panic and fear.
Dragging the sword to her side, her arm on fire from the ache, she gasped for breath and yelled into the wind, “Come and get me, you stupid bitch!”
Pricilla’s head swerved, her eyes locking on Toni and Jon, her intent obvious.
Killing them.
As she raced across the water, her face demonic, her tentacles smashing everything in their wake, Jon rushed up behind Toni, placing his hand on hers. “Stay close!” he whispered, his lips cold at the shell of her ear.
Pricilla howled her rage, torpedoing toward them at a speed Toni knew would knock them to the moon if she made impact.
Jon’s hand tightened on her waist momentarily, and just as the screams to run from below them rose, so did his sword.
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and helped her to lift it high, twisting them at the waist like baseball players waiting to hit a homerun, and as Pricilla steamrolled forward, they swung the sword—together.
The point of impact was precise as they let out a warrior cry in unison. With a mighty thwack, the blade sliced through Pricilla’s neck like butter.
The sea witch’s head toppled off her body, her mouth open in a macabre, silent scream as it splashed to the water, bouncing on the waves, her silver hair floating in the froth.
Her bulky body crumpled seconds afterward like a deflated balloon as Jon and Toni fell to their knees, chests heaving.
But as Pricilla’s tentacles flailed out of control, their instinct to survive strong, one stray rose up from the shadowy depths just as Jon was helping Toni to her feet.
The slimy limb drove into the side of her head, knocking her from the top of the tall rock to the beach below.
The last thing she remembered was seeing Jon’s face as he yelled her name, and she fell to the sandy shore.
Chapter 11
She woke to a warm fire at her feet, restrictive shoes still firmly in place, a headache the size of Yankee Stadium complete with cheers from the roaring crowd in her head.
Toni fought to sit up, but the heavy weight of furry blankets stopped her—or she was just too weak to move, she couldn’t decide.
“Lay still, milady. Let me tend to you,” Jon said, his voice warm as he slipped his hand under her head and offered her a tin cup of liquid.