Page 107 of Goldilocks

Fionn grabbed Sam’s wrist trying to pull him away, but Sam yanked free of him.

A fist came down, crushing a collarbone. Another crushed something in Roan’s middle, as if the ghoul was breaking twigs.

One punch will kill me, Sam thought. The ghoul raised a hand to inflict another blow, and Sam’s body moved by itself. His arm flexed, and the dagger still in his hand plunged straight through the monster’s chest. Sam threw himself down, planting his body over Roan’s so that the ghoul couldn’t land that winded-up punch on Roan.

Roan growled, probably furious with Sam for disobeying him and not leaving, but he was pinned and there was nothing he could do about it. Sam’s eyes flashed down and he froze; he was too late in his protection. Long fingers were hooked deeply into Roan’s gills, and one wrench would leave his throat ripped out. Sam felt warm blood bubbling up from already-inflicted injuries as he desperately covered the ripped gills on the other side.

Roan’s eyes blazed in fury.Run, they said.Go now.

Not achance.

The ghoul made a noise. Choked. Gurgled. Sam lifted his eyes from Roan to see it pawing at its chest with its free hand. Its long fingers gripped the hilt of the dagger, only to slip. And slip. Sweat-slick and wet with blood, the ghoul couldn’t get purchase on the handle to pull it free. And when he managed, just about, to get his fingers to pinch the end, he released it with a jerk, hissing. His fingers blistered, and Sam saw the black markings on the handle had turned red and glowed like coals. It smelled like something was burning.

“I’ll get it for you,” Sam murmured. “But only if you take your fingers out of his gills.”

The ghoul’s eyes flashed everywhere, lidless. Sam bet they were aching in the sunlight, drying out. It made another gurgled noise and another fruitless attempt to get the knife out. And then it pulled its fingers from Roan’s gills without tearing open his throat and grabbed Sam by the back of the head in a grip so harsh his vision blotted with dark spots.

Roan released a panicked sound.

Sam lifted his hand, awkwardly bent over Roan’s body. He balanced on his knees, and his shoulder muscles strained in the awkward angle he was twisted into. Sam’s old, stolen hoodie was now ripped to pieces, and Sam saw that the ghoul was as grey and bony on his body as on his head. The knife was buried right next to his breastbone, just off-centre, and was poised between two defined ribs. Sam angled his hand.

And he thrust his palm against the hilt, plunging it the rest of the way into its chest.

The ghoul jerked.

A crowbar whistled through the air, knocking right into the ghoul’s eyes. He gurgled, black blood spilling out of his mouth and chest. Fionn adjusted his grip on the crowbar and struck at the arm holding Sam by the back of the neck.

Sam wretched to the side, a muscle exploding into fiery heat all down the back of his neck, but the ghoul’s fingers came free. It crashed into the ground and twitched several times before it grew still. Fionn planted himself in the foot of space between Sam and the ghoul, crowbar shaking in his hands.

Black, thick ichor continued to seep from the wound in the centre of its chest, and more still seeped from its mouth. Lifeless, dull eyes stared vacantly at the sky above.

Laurence sprinted around the back of the car and skidded to a stop. In his hand was Jasper’s short sword, the end dirtied by black blood. “It’s dead?” Laurence asked cautiously.

It was Roan who moved, rising onto an elbow and peering around Sam’s body and Fionn’s legs at the ghoul. He grunted, but no words came out.

“He says it’s dead,” Sam said, voice gravelly. Neck on fire, he had to turn his entire body to see Roan, his heart hurting as he examined his torn gills. Each breath seemed to pain him greatly.

“I have a medkit in the trunk,” Fionn said. “Swap you, Laurence.”

Fionn stayed rooted in place as Laurence gave him the sword and took the crowbar. He ended up having to use it to break open the rear-view window to get at the medkit. Laurence knelt next to Sam. He dropped the medkit and abruptly seized and squeezed Sam’s hands. “Everyone’s okay,” Laurence said firmly.

Sam became slowly aware of how hard he was shaking. His ringing ears, still sore from the ghoul’s screams, finally let him hear the broken purr coming from Roan. Roan’s hand was against Sam’s leg, holding him.

“Goldilocks is okay too,” Laurence added. “His gills will be healed in no time, right, Goldilocks?” Laurence brought one of Sam’s hands to Roan’s chest, guiding his fingers out to feel the warmth and strength of his heartbeat thudding against his palm. And then Laurence nudged Sam’s chin, very slightly, so he was looking at Roan’s face instead of his torn-open gills.

Roan’s eyes were golden, shining, and filled with concern. But there was no self-worry. No weakness in his gaze. Even though his collarbone was cracked. Even though he had scratches everywhere. Sam stooped and pressed a kiss of relief to Roan’s forehead. “I’m alright,” he said because he knew that’s what Roan wanted to hear from him.

Laurence put bandages over Roan’s bleeding neck and guided Sam’s hand to hold it in place. By the time Sam realised Laurence had left, Ivan was kneeling next to him. His hand was against Sam’s back. Sam turned his entire torso to see Ivan’s wickedly bruised face, a swelling temple with an eye bloodied red, and his arm in a make-shift sling.

“Where’s Eric?” Ivan said, in the tone of someone who had asked several times now. There was panic in his eyes. Fear.

“Back of the house,” Sam said. Ivan stood and ran, Laurence following on his heels with the medkit tucked under his arm. There was a clink at Sam’s back. He turned his entire body to see Jasper examining the ghoul. He, too, had swelling bruises on one side of his face, and he limped heavily as he took a step. There were long, bleeding gashes scraped into his entire tail from base to tuft. One half of the feathered end had been ripped out.

But he’s alive, Sam reassured himself when the injury hurt to look at. Jasper noticed his attention and limped closer. His expression was one of guilt and shame. He bowed his head. “I—”

“Thank you for coming with me,” Sam said before he could apologise. “Thank you for helping fight him.”

Jasper’s expression didn’t change, but he didn’t continue whatever he was about to say.