Mercury stands in the middle of the tornado, howling in fury. A flash of lightning jumps out, strengthens and grows. Van screams and only then does the lightning fade. Nesbitt fires his gun but he cannot hurt Mercury. She’ll kill us all.
The tapestry over the end of the corridor whips in my face and I step back. I want the animal to take over. I want to be him, even if it’s for one last time. And I let the animal adrenaline flood through me and I welcome it.
I’m inside him. Inside the animal. But this time it’s different: now we both want the same thing.
We
the tapestry whips in our face. we snap up and pull it down. we’re strong and huge and even on all fours our head is high off the ground.
there’s the howl of the wind, which sounds like a woman but the words don’t make sense anymore. they’re just noise, screeching sounds, furious sounds.
the woman in gray has her back to us. her dress is flying wildly, ripping apart in places. her hair is vertical, in a whirlwind of its own. lightning flashes out of the storm around her. she spreads her arms and her hands throw lightning across the room. the wind drops a little. the other woman is on the floor, crawling away. the older man is near her. he’s angry and frightened, for himself and the woman on the floor, but he has a gun. he steps forward and shoots but the gun’s empty, and he’s shouting and running at the lightning woman but she throws her arm back and a surge of wind picks the man up and flings him hard against the wall. lightning woman doesn’t turn to look at what she has done, she only looks at the other woman, who is crawling away, and lightning strikes the floor near the crawling woman. the flash is dazzling and the thunder echoes in the room.
we catch a movement to our far right. a young man is in the entrance to another corridor. blood is running down the side of his face.
we swing back to the lightning woman. she’s the only threat. she’ll kill us if we don’t kill her. we move forward. we smell her now, a metallic smell of anger.
the woman on the floor is still alive. she is exhausted but she is saying words.
the wind drops more. the lightning woman’s hair falls around her neck. she’s speaking again and then another lightning flash hits the ground. the woman on the floor screams a short, sharp scream and drops limp. smoke rises from her clothes. her hair is burning.
we move forward to the lightning woman. her body stiffens. she’s sensed something. we get ready, tensing our rear legs. lightning woman turns. she sees us. she’s surprised but she doesn’t step back. she raises her arm to send wind or lightning but we’re on her already. and she’s on the floor beneath us, in our grasp. she’s thin and brittle but hard, lost in our hug.
lightning strikes around us, around the room, dazzling. loud. louder. brighter. crashing close but not striking us. the storm is wild, howling, fiercely cold. we are in the eye of it. but we keep hold, crushing the woman to our chest. her ribs crack. crack, crack, crack. we push our claws into her side and rip them in and up, splitting bone, tearing through her. hot blood running out. we claw again. through the tough skin and down, crashing through ribs and guts to her hip bone.
the wind has gone.
still and quiet now.
there is no fear. it has faded with the last flash of lightning and thunder.
a small flame licks up the side of a tapestry. smoke and steam hang in the air.
the lightning woman is still.
we loosen our grip on her body and let it drop hard on the floor. we smell her from shoulder to guts, all open and red.
her blood tastes good.
we take her in our jaws, lifting her slightly as we bite. the redness of it and the smell of it are good.
Pink
i’m in a bathroom.
i’m shaking.
but i’m me.
*
i run the bath, washing the blood off my arm.
i remember every second of being the animal. i remember it all.
i lie in the bath, slide under, and submerge. when i surface again the water has turned pink.
i think i’m going to throw up and i get out and stand by the toilet but i’m not sick.
*
i’ve stopped shaking.
Kissing
“Can I talk to you?”
Gabriel stands in the bathroom doorway. I’ve got my back to him, though I can see him in the mirror. He steps further into the room. He is incredibly, perfectly beautiful and worried and human, and I look at myself, at my reflection. I look the same as ever but I’m not.