Chapter 54
Before he knew what was happening the really tall one who’d been standing opposite him was on top of him. It felt like he’d been floored by a steamroller. Hands – or what felt like talons – were clawing at his jaw, trying to twist his head to the side. Cyrus pushed with all his might against the weight on his chest, feeling the stitches in his arm rip open. He gritted his teeth against the pain, as blood began spurting down his arm and soaking into his shirt.
The struggle stopped instantly. The Original let go of his head and sat up, straddling him, her thighs gripping his waist. In any other circumstance it might have been pleasurable. She looked a little like Angelina Jolie, Cyrus thought randomly, and then cursed himself that his mind was so one track even when facing death.
This close he could see the starbursts of red in her eyes, could make out the pupils expanding like balloons, could see her fangs, the needle points of them getting closer, and he knew what was coming next. He didn’t have time to even lift his blade before her teeth bit straight through his T-shirt, ripping aside what was left of the bandage, and then sank into the torn flesh of his arm. The pain shot through him like a million shards of acid-coated glass shredding his nerves. There was no way of containing it – he let out an agonised scream, trying at the same time to roll out from under her, to wrench his arm free from her teeth, but it was hopeless. It was like being mauled by a lion.
He tried to focus even as his heart started to burst supernova style and stars flew across his vision. He was giving up without a fight. That was not how he was going to die. Hadn’t he promised Evie he was going to protect her? Gritting his teeth, he forced his numb fingers to grip hold of the blade, which was slipping from them. Then, grunting, he forced his free arm to lift. His vision was darkening. Something was banging slowly against his skull, loud and insistent, and he realised it was his heart refusing to give up but slowing nonetheless as the blood flowed out of him.
With a final effort, he brought the blade up high, blocking out the guzzling sound, and then, feeling teeth gnash with abandon against nerve and bone he slashed the blade down as hard as he could.
The girl let out a gasp as the blade slid through her spinal cord, not even snagging on the nerves bundled inside. Before she could collapse down on him Cyrus rolled, freeing himself.
He climbed to his feet, swaying wildly, his mangled arm dangling uselessly at his side, and scanned the garden, trying to spot Evie, panic and adrenaline and blood loss making the lawn tilt vertical.
He kept turning in frantic, unsteady circles, the others only vaguely registering on his consciousness, the grunts and yells and cries drowned out by his own silent screams, and then he saw her – on her knees, by Vero’s side. She had the crossbow on her shoulder and was trying frantically to load an arrow, while an Original strode towards them.