As if sensing that he had brought the crowd close to an orgasmic eruption, the guy with the speaker stepped forward and whipped off the prisoner’s hood.
I threw my hands to my face, as Potter looked bleary-eyed at the crowd. His eyes were swollen almost closed, his nose was bent out of shape across his face, and both lips were bloodied and swollen.
“No!” I screamed, desperately forcing my way through the crowd, confused and terrified at the sight of Potter standing beaten and broken on the stage.
“KILL HIM!” the crowd cried.
“No!” I screamed, my pleas drowned out by the crowd as I pushed and shoved my way forward.
I felt a heavy hand fall on my shoulder.
With my heart racing I looked back.
“Hey, lady,” a giant-sized Skinwalker said, his eyes spinning brightly. “We don’t get to rip him up until the executioner has cut off his head. You know the rules.”
I looked away in disgust and back at the stage as the first of the bloody missiles was thrown from the crowd. A lump of red flesh slapped against Potter’s chest, where it slid down his stomach and onto the stage. As it spattered wetly on the stage, the air above my head became full of human body parts and remains. They rained down on Potter in thick wet chunks. Blood and innards covered him bright red. Potter glanced up at the sky, and I knew what he was looking for.
He was looking for me and Murphy. He was looking for us to come and save him like we had so many times before.
As if giving up hope of being rescued this time, he lowered his head.
I pushed forward, the crowd crushing so tightly about me, I couldn’t even open my wings to get airborne.
“Potter!” I screamed over the roar of the crowd. “Potter! It’s me, Kiera!”
He stood with his head cast down, arms tight behind his back, the blobs of flesh and guts continuing to rain down on him.
“Stop it!” I screamed, tears streaming from my eyes. “Don’t hurt him!”
Deaf to my cries, the Skinwalkers continued to roar laughter and cheers as they threw the last of the body parts at Potter. He stood on the stage, his entire face and body dripped red with blood, guts, and body tissue.
When the Skinwalkers had run out of human remains to hurl at Potter, the executioner shoved him back across the stage towards the guillotine.
“Off with his head!” a Skinwalker screeched from behind me, enticing the crowd to cheering excitedly again.
“No!” I screamed, desperately fighting my way forward. There were so many wolves crushed around me, it was almost impossible to move.
Potter offered no resistance as he was forced by the executioner to kneel down. I inched my way forward, the edge of the stage just feet away now. The executioner forced Potter’s head beneath the guillotine.
“Please,” I begged, as I continued to push my way forward. “Please don’t hurt him.” I edged myself closer to the stage. I had to save him. But there were just too many people. I pushed harder.
My heart raced and I felt sick.
“Take off his head!” the Skinwalkers whooped and chanted over and over.
I reached the stage.
“Potter!” I screamed over the roar of the baying crowd. I reached for him but there was a barrier preventing me getting any closer. I wanted to touch him.
“Potter!” I screamed, my throat raw, tears raining down my face. Suddenly he looked up. Our eyes met.
“I love you,” I whispered, reaching desperately for him with my hands.
“I love you, too,” he said. “See you later, aliga...”
The last half of his final word was drowned out by the sound of the blade thundering down at speed. Throwing my hands to my face, I watched Potter’s head drop into the bucket before him.
“No!” I screamed, my knees buckling beneath me. “No!”
An arm suddenly slipped through mine, catching me before I hit the ground. “Come with me before they realise you are not one of them,” a soft voice whispered in my ear.
Sobbing uncontrollably, I turned my face to discover Meren holding me in her arms. She had come back for me. “I can’t leave him.”
“He’s gone now,” Meren whispered against my wet cheeks. “Come, Kiera, it’s not safe for you here now.”
I could barely stand. My sudden grief was so strong. The pain was unbearable. It felt like my soul had been ripped out. I just wanted to curl up and die.
“Leave me here,” I said, trying to pull free of Meren. “Leave me here to die next to Potter.”
“I can’t leave you,” Meren hushed, coaxing me away from the stage and to safety.
“There are others who need your help.”
“And who is going to help me now?” I sobbed uncontrollably. “Who is going to help me now that the person I loved more than anything has gone?”
I looked back at the stage to see the executioner hand over Potter’s headless body to the howling crowd. I turned away, burying my face against Meren. I didn’t want to see what they were going to do to it. That was Potter’s body. It had been mine to hold and love. Not for them to defile and rip to pieces.
Feeling as if my whole being had been crushed, and unable to control the gut-wrenching sobs that consumed me, Meren led me silently out of the town of Wasp Water. We hadn’t gotten very far, when I dropped to my knees.
“Kiera, please, we’ve got to keep moving,”
Meren said, tugging at my sleeve.
“I can’t go on,” I whispered through my tears.
“We haven’t got far to go,” Meren insisted.
“I didn’t mean that. I can’t go on losing people I love. I’ve lost Isidor and now Potter -
I’ve lost everything. I’m done,” I said, curling up on the road. “Let the wolves come and find me.
Let the Wolf Man kill me.”
I closed my eyes and waited for death to come and take my pain away.
