Of Fangs & Fins ✔

ii.

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.ii.

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Eryn.

I shakily dropped a silver injection over the sink at the sound of a large thud. I turned around darted out of the bathroom, watching as Chris clutched his chest and hoarsely mouth Lance's name. He fell to his knees, something I hadn't seen Chris do in all my centuries of life.

"Go to him," he managed to gasp out before clutching his chest and crumpling to the floor.

My eyes widened, immediately heading toward the garage. Chris was close behind me and we entered my truck. I ripped out of the garage, doing my best no to let us get stopped by the cops.

As I drove to the beach, Chris dialed up Lance.

The phone rang once, then instantly dropped.

"Fuck!"

I flinched as Chris slammed his hand down on the dashboard. It took us longer to head to the beach than I would've guessed. Every second that passed was agony. It was the first time in a while I heard Chris's heart pounding.

Something really bad must've happened.

Chris didn't wait for me to park the car once we saw Lance's white jeep at the parking lot.

We approached the small beach and noticed a figure on the ground, the area around it stained with blood.

Chris grunted, falling to his knees and dragging what was left of Lance's body off the sand. He clutched Lance to his chest and brushed the sand off his body. His arm from the shoulder down was barely recognizable, the most grotesque part being that it was being held onto by a singular sliver of muscle.

I scanned his chest and saw bubbled and charred skin around large two holes in his chest. The other hole was in his shoulder, exposing the bone of his shoulder.

I moaned, my eyes tearing up. I tore my gaze away and closed my eyes tightly as Chris's wails were being drowned out by the crashing of the waves.

The absence of Marina and her friends attached to the forefront of my thoughts. Agony and rage coursed through my veins, spreading to my heart. I felt like I couldn't breathe, it was as if someone's hand was squeezing it, trying to stop it from beating.

The water lapped at my ankles, the waves sizzling out just before it could reach me.

I started to hop into the water, the waves pushing me back. My stance was balanced, keeping me from moving. The cold water pounding against my chest and neck were nothing compared to the numbness spreading throughout my body. It was as if my body was healing my emotional pain, pressing it down into my gut.

I was doing a self-cleanse, involuntarily burning away the last slivers of my emotions.

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On my way out, a dark three-pronged staff washed up in front of me. I bent down and wrapped my fingers around the metal, ignoring the burning sensation making its way up my palm. The wave of anguish of realizing that it was the weapon that slaughtered Lance went through me before fueling the rage that kept me together.

Chris didn't say a word as I tossed it into the trunk unceremoniously. He eased Lance's corpse in the backseat of his car.

"Would you mind driving his—the jeep back? I have his spares." He reached into his compartment in-between the drivers and passenger seat.

I wordlessly grabbed the keys he handed to me.

"Might be a bit, I left some loose ends that I should tie up now," I called, my voice not quite feeling like my own.

Nothing felt quite like my own.