A man I don’t recognize slams me into an island; pots and pans scatter noisily around us. This must be Thierry. How many of these things are left already? How many more do I have to destroy?
“Gotcha,” it sneers, but it’s taken aback by my laughter.
Stupid mothereffer. I say, just before I wish it out of existence, “Don’t steal my lines.”
Eight.
The house rolls in anger, dishes crashing out of cabinets. Enlilkian is roaring ... and then laughing. All of the blood cells in my body turn to ice. No. No. No. No.
I can deal with his anger. But his laughter?
I start ripping holes through the walls as I run through the large house, screaming Kellan’s name over and over until I’m hoarse, and then screaming more. I can’t find him. Where are they? I want to tear my hair out, just ... tear everything out. Just destroy the whole damn house until all that’s left are the people inside.
But Cicely is still hiding. And the neurosurgeon might be here, too. I can’t fail her. Them. I lost Jonah. I failed him. I will give my life up before I fail Kellan.
I finally find the godsdamn stairs in the back of the house and charge up them. I switch tactics midway up. I’m shouting the first Creator’s name, letting him know I’m coming, that if he touches one hair on Kellan’s head, he will—
I have to grab hold of the railing when the house shudders again. Enlilkian’s howls fill the air around me until my ears ring and bleed. He’s pissed. Good—pissed is better than delighted. I slam my hand against the stairs, steadying myself. This building isn’t going down as long as I don’t want it to. Nothing is knocking me off my feet again.
I sprint down another hall—gods this house is too damn big—toward the eerie mixture of maniacal laughter and rage. And there, in the last bedroom in the hallway, I find them.
The door is blocked by a dresser tilted on its side, but from what I can see, part of the far wall of the room is gone. How did that happen? Did Enlilkian counter me again? It’s a gaping maw, all wood and pipes and chicken wire coated in crumbling plaster. Kellan’s in front of it, one hand gripping onto one of the exposed pipes and my heart stops, just flat out stops, because there is way too much bright red soaking his clothes and hair. I say his name again, more softly now, but he’s completely focused ... on the floor?
I peer down and find Enlilkian on the ground in front of the dresser, only half of his body visible. He’s alternating between laughing and clawing at the ruined carpet in his fury toward whatever Kellan is doing to him. Bits of skin and muscle are left behind between each strike of fist to floor.
But ... he seems to be immobilized, too.
The minute I attempt to cross the threshold, duck under the dresser, the monster whose death I crave like no drug ever could wheezes, “Careful, little Creator. Things are not quite as much in his favor as they seem.”
Ugly shivers break out across my arms as I look back to Kellan. He’s ... oh gods, he’s shaking in his efforts, his attention completely focused on Enlilkian, like he doesn’t even know I’m in the room. I stare harder at his hand, clutching the pipe; the knuckles are white and tight. Is he ... is he swaying? I rise up on my tiptoes to get a better look, and—
No.
There are about two inches of splintered wood jutting out from the edge of the wall he’s teetering on. There is no floor for at least three feet in front of him toward Enlilkian.
“If you kill me,” Enlilkian gasps, “he will fall. I’m the only thing keeping what he’s standing from snapping.”
“Obliterate it, Chloe.”
My eyes fly back toward Kellan. He’s not looking at me; one hand is still angled toward doing whatever it is he’s doing to Enlilkian, but he says again, voice low and angry, “Don’t worry about me. Just obliterate this fucker.”
I should. I absolutely should. This monster is the reason so many people are dead over thousands of years of history. He’s the reason Jonah’s dead.
The dresser between us splinters and then disintegrates into nothing as this reality comes home once more.
“Ah, there she is,” Enlilkian grunts, and then he laughs and laughs and laughs, like my grief is the best thing in the entire worlds.
I try to count, try to find my breaths, but it’s all so hard right now.
“Listen to me, C,” Kellan continues. “You need to focus—”
Enlilkian sing-songs, “It was fun watching him die, wasn’t it, little Creator?”
I think my knees are giving out, because I’m falling fallingfalling. Kellan is saying my name, but all I can see is Jonah falling. And gods, it’s so selfish of me, so incredibly selfish, but I can’t watch Kellan do that, too. I just can’t lose them both.
“Chloe, godsdammit, do it!” Kellan shouts at me.
Enlilkian cackles, but it’s short lived. He writhes on the ground in agony, losing more bits and pieces of Jens Belladonna’s body just inches away from me. All I’d need to do is stretch out my hand and just touch him. Just ... lay a finger on a single hair still attached, and he’d be gone.