Page 48 of Inhuman Natures #1

Shaun took the opportunity to go to Rake, kneeling beside him and shielding him from Lawrence.

“It’s Kit, as you well know, arsehole,” Kit said.

Lawrence gave Kit an indulgent look. “Of course, how remiss of me. But darling, what have you done to your hair?”

Kit tugged at a dark strand that had escaped from behind his ear. He’d got rid of the fake glasses and piercings, seeing as he no longer needed to go incognito. “I can do whatever I want with it.”

“A shame. That colour does not become you.”

“Let DJ go!” Rake said, trying to push past Shaun.

“You should let him go,” Kit said.

“Or, what?” Lawrence asked, amused.

Kit didn’t answer with words. He shot forward, attacking Lawrence in a move that resembled a rugby tackle.

DJ fell to the floor as Lawrence was forced backwards onto the stairs.

Shaun sprang up to gather DJ in his arms. He took him to the couch in the living room, righting it before laying DJ down and running back out to the hallway.

Kit and Lawrence were exchanging furious blows, blood flying as their talons scored through flesh, painting the walls in red. Rake darted in to aid Kit, only to impede both of them. Rake was too new; too unused to his strength and speed, not able to control his movements.

But Shaun pressed their numbers advantage, jumping on Lawrence’s exposed back as Kit took his front.

Shaun clawed at Lawrence’s face, eliciting a howl.

With Lawrence distracted by trying to throw Shaun off his back, Kit slashed at his chest, whilst Rake yanked and twisted one of Lawrence’s arms to stop him from getting at Shaun.

Even three to one, Lawrence fought back with ease. He only needed one hand to throw Rake across the hall into the front door, and a brutal kick had Kit skittering several feet backwards.

Lawrence dragged Shaun right over his shoulder and onto the ground. Lawrence’s claws dug painfully into his arm. Their blood dripped onto the floorboards, and Shaun took grim satisfaction in knowing it would stain.

“You think I cannot destroy you as easily as I did Lynette?” Lawrence spat down at Shaun.

Shaun knew. But that wouldn’t stop him from fighting.

He scratched at Lawrence’s arm, rivulets of blood raining down onto him as he cut deep, right where Lynette had left her marks.

Kit appeared, yanking at Lawrence’s other arm, claws ripping into the skin.

A second later, Rake threw a weighty punch and hit Lawrence with such force that his head snapped back at an inhuman angle .

Lawrence hissed, pushing both Shaun and Kit away and jumping on Rake with a feral cry.

In the blink of an eye, Lawrence had Rake on the ground, arm raised and ready to land a killing blow.

Shaun and Kit ran in tandem, grabbing hold of Lawrence’s arm and pulling with all their might, tearing into the flesh before yanking hard enough that Lawrence’s shoulder detached from its socket.

The scream that left Lawrence’s throat was so high-pitched that Shaun wondered if it might break the windows. He and Kit kept pulling as Rake scrambled out from under Lawrence.

Within seconds, however, they were on the back foot again, Lawrence dislodging them with a swiftness they couldn’t combat. It quickly descended into a fight of pure attrition, the three of them doing as much damage as possible to slow Lawrence down.

At some points, Lawrence toyed with them, letting them get close before striking a blow. He went for Rake after one such failed attack, biting savagely into his neck. Rake howled, trying in vain to push Lawrence away.

Kit went in low, going for Lawrence’s legs whilst Shaun took hold of Lawrence’s limp arm and twisted with all his might.

There was a horrendous ripping of skin and gristle as he half-pulled Lawrence’s arm off.

Kit sprung up and finished the job, slicing his way through the muscle until Lawrence’s arm thudded to the floor.

Shaun flinched at the screech Lawrence let out.

Rake’s blood dripped from Lawrence’s mouth, unhinged fury in his eyes as he looked at them all.

He snarled, deep and animalistic, before attacking again.

Lawrence took Kit out with a swift, rib-breaking kick to the side before hurling Rake away, Rake’s body crumpling to the ground after cracking against the door.

Before Shaun could help Rake, Lawrence barrelled into him, knocking them both off their feet. They went down, Lawrence retaining the upper hand in the tumble. He straddled Shaun and threw fist after fist into his face.

Shaun reeled from the blows, but reached up and dug his fingers into Lawrence’s open shoulder wound, wincing at the squelch it made. As Lawrence reared back, Shaun shoved him off and ran to Rake, who leaned against the front door, cradling his head.

With a quick nod to Shaun, Kit headed Lawrence off from his pursuit, distracting him with another rugby tackle. Shaun spared a moment to ensure Kit didn’t get immediately overwhelmed, then checked Rake over, turning his head to inspect the deep wound.

“I think something broke,” Rake said.

Shaun wondered if the sliver of white he spotted was bone.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, hoping he wasn’t lying. “But stay out of the fight.”

Shaun ran back to aid Kit. Between them, they got Lawrence on the ground, Kit holding Lawrence’s legs down as he bucked, and Shaun on top of Lawrence’s chest.

A sharp crack and a yelp of pain told Shaun that Lawrence had managed to kick Kit off. Taking his chance, Shaun thrust a hand down, intent on removing Lawrence’s heart the same as he’d done to Lynette, but Lawrence blocked the blow before his arm fell to his side, limp and useless.

With Lawrence’s chest undefended, Shaun readied himself to strike once more .

“Please, Shaun, let me live to see the sun one last time. It’s the last thing I will ever ask of you.” The request—and its polite phrasing—threw Shaun.

Lawrence had never expressed a desire for the daylight hours. It distracted Shaun for half a moment, which was half a moment too long.

Lawrence’s claws dug into Shaun’s stomach. He choked as he looked down, unable to process what he saw. All his brain told him was that Lawrence’s arm had disappeared right into his abdomen.

When Shaun opened his mouth, all he expelled was blood. Lawrence withdrew his arm, and Shaun slipped off, hitting the floor. Shaun held onto his stomach, but his hands shook, his efforts doing little to staunch the flow of blood.

“You always were so easy to manipulate, pet,” Lawrence said as he lapped Shaun’s blood from his fingers.

Lawrence then grabbed hold of Shaun’s face, squeezing, and Shaun’s eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets as pressure built. Just when he thought his skull would shatter, Lawrence’s hand was ripped away.

Kit and Lawrence grappled on the floor, moving too fast for Shaun’s sluggish eyes to follow. Grunts and groans punctuated their every movement, the tearing of flesh obscenely loud.

But it was a shrill scream that had Shaun cracking open his eyes.

He hadn’t even realised he’d closed them.

Lawrence stood over a prone Kit, Kit’s legs sticking out at angles that had whatever remained of Shaun’s stomach churning.

Lawrence looked crazed, his one arm bathed in Shaun’s blood as he stood over Kit.

Turning Kit face up, Lawrence slammed a foot down on his chest.

Kit swore at Lawrence, but their creator just laughed.

“My darling, this is only the beginning. We have so much lost time to make up for.” Lawrence crouched over Kit, using the front of his shirt to drag them nose to nose.

“Do you remember our first time? Perhaps we can recreate it. I’m sure I can find a uniform that matches. ”

Shaun hadn’t known Kit for long, but seeing how broken he looked at Lawrence’s gloating was like watching an old memory playing out in real life, too real and too lucid to ignore.

Kit wasn’t threatening Lawrence any more. He’d frozen, eyes wide and pleading for a mercy that wouldn’t be granted. He appeared younger than ever—smaller and fragile.

Shaun couldn’t let Kit face Lawrence alone, no matter his own injuries. He pushed up from the ground, only making it onto his knees before Lawrence twisted to face him, a feral smile splitting his face in two. “You want in on this, pet?”

Shaun staggered to his feet. “Never again.”

Lawrence stood too, pressing his foot down onto Kit when he squirmed. “Ah ah ah,” Lawrence chastised. “Stay right there for me, darling.” If he stamped down, he’d cave Kit’s chest in and crush his heart.

Drawing on his last strength, Shaun sped towards Lawrence. It took no effort for Lawrence to scoop him up and hold him aloft by the throat. “Poor attempt, Shaun.”

He kicked out at Lawrence as hard as he could, but it was useless. Lawrence shook Shaun so violently that his brain rattled around in his head.

Shaun caught sight of Rake emerging from the kitchen over Lawrence’s shoulder.

He tried to scream for him to run, to leave and save himself from the fate that he and Kit faced.

He wanted Rake to take DJ and escape, to get as far away as possible.

Shaun had vowed that he would never compel Rake, but he would use the bond of recreation to command Rake to save himself.

But no words escaped Shaun’s lips. Lawrence had crushed his voice box. His creator grinned up at him, a macabre slash on his face.

When Rake swayed on his feet, Shaun expected him to fall right back down. But he ran at them.

As Rake approached, Lawrence moved his body towards him, as if he might stop Rake in his tracks. But Lawrence had forgotten one thing—he had only one arm, and it was busy holding Shaun.

Shaun didn’t notice the knife until Rake plunged it into Lawrence’s chest. Shaun fell to the ground as Lawrence flailed, trying to pull the knife out.

Rake attacked again, another knife slashing across Lawrence’s neck.

Lawrence’s partially detached head fell backwards, his cut neck unable to support its weight.

Shaun retched at the sight. Despite the almost-beheading, Lawrence refused to die. His one hand waved impotently at his neck, trying to hold onto his lolling head.

“What the fuck,” Kit whispered.

“Knife drawer,” Rake said, as if that explained everything.

Shaun got up and pulled the knife from Lawrence’s chest, then kicked Lawrence’s feet out from under him, sending him crashing down.

This time, Shaun didn’t hesitate. He drew the blade across Lawrence’s ravaged neck, back and forth and back and forth until Shaun severed Lawrence’s head from his body.

Only then did his creator’s remaining limbs go still.

What Shaun hadn’t expected was the bright flash of pain when Lawrence turned to ash. From a quick glance around him, he wasn’t the only one reeling. Kit’s face had contorted into a grimace where he lay on the ground, his gaze fixed on where their creator’s body had lain scant moments before.

The fucked-up, fractured, fraying tie between Shaun and Lawrence had broken.

The bond’s absence was like the removal of a rotten tooth; Shaun could almost prod at the empty space where it had been, touch that place inside of himself and feel its stark, sudden absence.

When he did, it was a mixture of numbing pain and satisfaction at the removal of decay.

Shaun no longer felt Lawrence’s touch on every part of his being. He was free from the monster who had taken his life. Free to love those he knew wanted him back.

Shaun searched for Rake. He wasn’t anywhere in the hallway, so Shaun staggered into the living room, relaxing when he saw Rake holding DJ on the sofa. Rake had removed the collar—it was discarded on the floor in two pieces, some of the metal spikes scattered around it.

Shaun’s relief at seeing it destroyed was short-lived as Rake spoke, his voice trembling. “DJ won’t wake up.”

Shaun examined DJ from top to toe, seeing no physical injuries.

Kit crawled into the room, legs evidently still in the process of healing. “It’ll be dead blood,” he said.

“Dead blood?” Rake asked, wrinkling his nose .

Shaun helped Kit to his feet, Kit leaning hard against him to remain upright. “He used to do it sometimes when he wanted a break from dealing with me,” Kit explained. “Injected me with the blood of a dead person. It’s toxic to us, but in small doses just sends you into a coma.”

“How does DJ heal from it?” Shaun asked. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper thanks to the damage to his voice box.

“You could try to pull it from him yourselves, or wait a few days and it’ll clear from his system. Probably. I’m not sure, as I was unconscious every time he gave it to me,” Kit said with a conflicted expression.

“I need him now,” Rake choked out.

Shaun’s eyes stung at how broken up Rake sounded. “Then we try to suck it out of him?”

Rake nodded. “I need him to be all right.”

“He will be,” Shaun promised. He could only hope that, even in death, Lawrence wouldn’t make a liar out of him.