Page 69 of Voidwalker (Beasts of the Void #1)

How do you like these teeth?

Antal had warned her that Nyskya wasn’t safe.

It wasn’t that Fi ignored him. The information had ceased existing, her mind too consumed by a grief she didn’t know how to contain. Boden—her sweet, stubborn Boden—sacrificing himself to defend their village from a Beast.

Now, here was that Beast’s master, come to inspect the aftermath.

Verne stood not ten strides from Fi. This daeyari was slimmer than Antal, not shorter in stature but sleeker in limb, an angular frame with ash gray calves bare to the snow.

Gone were the silver ornaments that had tipped her antlers.

Gone was the showy attire, her dress traded for leggings and a high-collared tunic, fabric glittering with iridescent inlays.

Her raven hair was braided between her antlers, the loose sides swept from her face with silver pins.

She felt older than Antal, her added centuries shown not in wrinkled features, but something more lethal in her taut posture, those bright scarlet eyes. That same predatory sway to her tail, though. Fi’s thoughts took up a new chorus, sorrow-labored breaths traded for a shaking exhale.

Run. Don’t let her have you. Not after all this time.

“What are you doing out here, little one?” The question rolled off Verne’s black tongue like spoiled sugar. “And all alone?”

Run run run run run.

Fi’s legs shook. Her lifelong nightmare stood in front of her, alone with the blood-soaked streets of her abandoned home. Running would be easy. The rabbit’s survival instinct.

Never run from a daeyari. Fi knew better.

At Fi’s silence, Verne cocked her head, that animal-like tilt that captivated her in Antal. Blood-curdling now.

“Perhaps you can tell me what happened here?” Verne said. “Where everyone’s gone?” A carving edge slipped onto her tongue. “Why my pet returned to me in tatters?”

Fi catalogued her weapons. The hilt of her sword in one coat pocket. A daeyari energy capsule in the other. Meager tools, and even if she’d been better outfitted, she’d balk at fighting a daeyari alone. This confrontation was supposed to come with allies at her back.

All their preparations, shattered in a single day.

“And my Arbiter?” Verne said. Flat as ice. “What’s become of her?”

The panic never left Fi, that instinct chiseled into her bones by a hundred generations of mortal ancestors carved beneath these creatures.

But fuck if she wasn’t also angry. And grieving. And acutely aware that, despite ten years haggling with the seediest sons of bitches across the Season-Locked Planes, her fiercest negotiation tactics weren’t going to cut it for Verne.

Verne. This monster who’d hollowed Astrid into a husk of her former self.

This tyrant whose conquest had stolen Fi’s brother from her.

Verne stepped toward her. If Antal had taught Fi anything about these beasts, it was to hold her ground. She did so, even when the daeyari grinned, all blushed lips and sharp teeth.

Verne vanished, the teleport snapping Fi’s tongue with telltale static. Petty trick. Fi tasted it against her teeth, tensing for the follow up.

Another prick.

Fi dove clear, hitting the ground at a roll, snow and rocks biting her shoulder. Verne lunged over her, black claws raking empty air. Fi palmed her daeyari energy capsule and Shaped the strongest current she dared, crimson burning her palm as she shoved a concussive blast.

Verne reeled backward, a scarlet shield snapping at her fingertips.

The daeyari emerged with no visible injuries, just a growl and flashed fangs. This monster Fi had always feared. This nightmare she’d let steer her life for decades. She gripped her sword hilt but didn’t draw. Patience came harder when facing down a man-eater.

Another pulse of static hit her mouth as Verne vanished. There was always a pause. The briefest gap, enough time for Fi to draw her sword and Shape a current into the blade.

She swung as Verne reappeared.

Surprise flashed through the daeyari’s eyes. Then, a dig of blade against flesh. Verne snarled and flinched away, clutching her arm, black blood dripping from shoulder to elbow.

The bitch wasn’t untouchable. A strained laugh pushed through Fi’s thudding heart, her haggard breaths.

After all Verne had taken from her? Fi would cleave her fucking head from her shoulders.

The wound healed quickly, gray flesh sewn back together by scarlet stitches. Fi would have to take Verne’s head off, or none of this would matter.

The daeyari glowered at the blood on her hand. She lunged straight this time. No prickle of static. Just claws aimed at Fi’s throat. Fi lifted her sword to parry.

Energy-coated claws sliced through the blade. Some fresh bullshit. The current sputtered. Fi clutched the hilt, fighting to Shape the weapon back to a stable state.

Belatedly, it occurred to Fi—she’d practiced fighting a daeyari who was, by his own admission, abysmal at Shaping. Verne was a better Shaper than Antal. More patient than Tyvo. No reason to panic. Fi just had to focus, plant her boots, and—

Verne clutched her hand into a fist. Fi felt the impact as if Verne had grabbed the sword itself, watched in horror as the blade flickered.

Then snapped out entirely.

She had time for half a curse.

When Verne lunged, Fi pushed another pulse of energy at her, anything to slow the daeyari down.

Verne splayed her fingers against the blast, scarlet energy Shaped like sickles at her claw tips, slicing through Fi’s attack with a crack .

She struck Fi’s chest hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs, the sword from her hand.

So Fi could stand her ground better against a daeyari.

Still not strong enough to defeat one alone.

Her back hit the rough trunk of a pine tree. Verne pinned her with claws around her arms, not gentle like Antal, the points only missing flesh thanks to the thickness of Fi’s coat. Fi kicked. Twisted. Tried to break free.

A hand on her throat stilled her, claws digging against arteries hard enough to draw a warning trickle of blood.

A rabbit again. Fi loathed the feeling.

Verne cast her beneath appraising eyes, a hint of fangs through parted lips, tail flicking too quick for comfort. Fi steeled her nerves. She’d learned how to face daeyari these past weeks.

Except this daeyari looked at her in a way Antal never had. Like a helpless thing in her hands. Like a hare waiting to be skinned.

“You’re Antal’s pet.” Verne’s accusation wasn’t biting, but all the more stinging because of its flatness.

If anyone was going to call Fi a pet, it would be if she damn well asked for it. She bit her lip, a taste of copper on her tongue, a sting of claws at her neck.

“My derived daeyari returned alone,” Verne said. Less flat. A serrated edge of annoyance. “So what have you done with my Arbiter? Where’s Astrid?”

The name was vile on Verne’s tongue, spoken with all the empathy one would show a misplaced tool. A sliver of relief, though, knowing Astrid hadn’t gone crawling back to her mistress. Fi hoped she was a hundred Shards away by now.

“Dealt with,” Fi said. “She was stupid enough to fight me on my home terrain? She got what was coming to her.”

She’d spin any lie, weave any spite into her words if it meant keeping Astrid safe from this beast.

Verne’s lips thinned, only ire in her expression, not a fleck of grief.

“Astrid told me you were meant to be my Arbiter, rather than her.” Verne’s claw dragged Fi’s throat, catching at skin. “Maybe you should have been, if you bested her. What a waste.”

Not in a lifetime. Not if Verne offered Fi all the riches on the Winter Plane. She held her tongue, shaking at the thought of Verne’s teeth on Astrid. The scars she’d left on both of them.

Anger was a hindrance. Fi had to think, had to get these claws off her neck. She shouldn’t have come back here alone, stood a piss-poor chance of fighting Verne without help. Fi had to run. If she could reach a Curtain, she might get out of this alive.

But Fi knew Nyskya like the back of her hand. There were no Curtains close enough.

Verne leaned close, a smell like ice and burnt timber. “You’re little use to me on your own, human. Where’s Antal?”

“Kicking him out wasn’t good enough for you?” All this time, and bristles were still Fi’s weapons. A shield when fear threatened to buckle her.

“I’d be delighted to never see him again.” Verne’s claws pressed sharper. “And yet, Tyvo tells me you and Antal paid him a visit. Astrid reports you’ve been gathering metal. Too stubborn to walk away. But if Antal insists on being a poor loser, I’ll deal with him more permanently. Where is he?”

Fi spat in her face.

A solid hit to the cheek. Excellent consistency, plenty of mucous from sobbing her eyes out, mixed with blood from a split lip.

Verne, disappointingly, didn’t flinch. She wiped her cheek clean with slender fingers, eyes a flare of scarlet beneath dark lashes.

Not even a panther with a rabbit. A lioness with a flea itching her hide.

“So simple, your kind. Simple insults. Simple fears. Do I need to give you more to be afraid of, little pet?” Her claw traced Fi’s cheek. “Or will you cooperate?”

Verne could go fuck herself. Preferably, with something sharp and uncomfortable.

“I don’t know where Antal is.”

“You lie. You fight with his energy. I can smell him on you.” Verne’s eyes narrowed. “In fact…”

Fi went taut as Verne sniffed her jaw. Her hair.

“I smell him… all over you .”

Verne cackled. There was cruelty in her mirth, the sound like teeth with grated edges. She tugged Fi’s collar, revealing the evidence of fangs taken willingly to flesh. “By Veshri’s sharpened antlers. That heartsick idiot never learns his lesson, does he?”

No. Absolutely not. Fi already raged to think what Verne had done to her. To Astrid. To Boden. Hearing her speak of Antal with similar disparagement was a jolt of fury down Fi’s spine. He wasn’t weak like Verne thought he was. He wasn’t a failure.

But of course Verne would see him that way, so intent on using everyone around her.

Fi would see this daeyari carved into pieces.

She had to escape. Live to fight with better odds. If there was no Curtain nearby, she’d have to cut a new one. Fi would cut her way through a dozen Shards if that was what it took.

For that to work, she needed a Shard close enough to cut into. Stepping into the Void would be just as swift a death. Fi tried to soften her gaze, searching for the phantom outlines of a Shard nearby, but she couldn’t see anything beyond the Winter Plane.

“Tell me where Antal is. We can do this the easy way…”

Verne brushed a thumb across Fi’s temple.

Panic tightened Fi’s throat, the memory of that mind-spinning magic daeyari could wield. Her palms went clammy at the thought of words not her own, of treachery drawn from her lips, selling out Antal and all the people of Nyskya.

“Though…” Verne grinned, a wicked show of fangs. “I prefer the fun way.”

Fi writhed as Verne ripped her coat off her shoulder. Claws sliced her sweater, exposing bare skin.

The daeyari sank her teeth into flesh.

Fi screamed.

Pain exploded through her shoulder, fangs slicing deep into skin and muscle. Then, the tearing. Fi shrieked anew, a flare of white-hot agony spiking her vision as Verne’s teeth clamped then twisted then tore , ripping a mouthful of meat.

The rabbit flailed. Fi kicked and clawed, desperate to push Verne off her. Heat welled in her arms, her torso, energy leaching from muscles and into a current at her fingers. She had no thought for a specific weapon. Just a blast of energy. A frantic bid to force this monster away.

At the strike, Verne released her.

The daeyari didn’t stagger. Didn’t snarl. As Fi dropped to the snow, blood hot on her neck and pain nearly blinding. Verne stood over her with a grin. Her long black tongue traced her lips, licking blood and gore with stomach-churning relish.

“What’s wrong, little one?” Verne cooed. “You don’t enjoy daeyari teeth as much as you thought you did?”

This was a game to her.

Verne would eat Fi alive and savor every second, this monster everything she’d feared a daeyari would be—cruel, conceited, immovable. Everything Antal wasn’t.

“He’s better than you,” Fi forced out in a quivering hiss. “The people of this territory deserve better than you.”

Verne laughed again. “Is that the nonsense he’s promised? That he’ll be kinder? Gentler? I suppose you think yourself the hero. Fighting for the justice of your species.”

The daeyari stepped toward her. Fi pushed herself away, dragging knees through the snow. Again, she searched for a Shard to cut into.

“Na?ve little thing,” Verne spat. “The pact is a kindness to you. Would you rather go back to the days when daeyari hunted you through the trees? When you were little more than wild packs shouting at the dark?”

Fi saw nothing beyond the Plane. Even if there was a Shard nearby, her heart was beating too franticly to see clearly, the pain in her shoulder too hot.

“We’ve been more than generous.” Verne kept advancing. “You should be grateful for any compromise. For the gifts we’ve given you. For being spared our teeth.”

Fi had to take a chance. Certain death with Verne, versus a possibility of escape.

“Tell me where Antal is!” Verne loomed over her, blood painting her mouth, no mercy in her Void-and-scarlet eyes. “Or I’ll show you what your insides look like—”

Fi drew a current into her fingertips and slashed the air.

Verne’s eyes widened as the gossamer of a new Curtain rippled behind Fi’s hand.

She could do this. There would be a Shard on the other side. Fi would hit the ground running, find another Curtain or keep cutting, flee until the daeyari lost her trail.

She’d made her life as a Voidwalker, stepping fearless into the unknown.

It wouldn’t fail her now.

Fi swallowed her terror and pushed through the Curtain.