Tahki jerked back. His body tingled, arms and legs feeling as though they were asleep. He rubbed his sides until his skin felt normal again and faced the creature. The dark walls of the castle felt too close. The air in the room tasted humid. He took a deep breath and then reached for the animal one more time.
The cat blinked.
Tahki stopped. “What?”
He stared as she turned her moist, reflective eyes his way. Before he could act, the black cat leaped off the floor, her paws catching him in the belly. She bared her long white fangs in his face. He squirmed beneath her, pain coursing through his body from his previous injuries. He kicked as hard as he could at the fur on her belly. The cat moved an inch, and he slid out from under her, scrambling to his feet.
She hunched in front of the door, claws extended. He ran to the other end of the room where hunting knives hung on the wall. He grabbed one with a red handle and faced her, his back pressed between deer antlers. The cat released a deep roar that drummed in his skull. Several boar heads fell off the wall. He wanted to scream for help, but her roar would bring everyone there.
The cat lunged. Tahki darted left and brought the knife into her shoulder. It didn’t go deep, but it stuck. She knocked his body over with one paw the size of his chest. His breath left him and he gasped, falling to the floor as an explosion of pain tore through him.
The cat regarded the knife with an intelligent look of irritation. Tahki watched in horror as a nest of black, oily eel-like creatures erupted from the wound. They slithered like ink around the knife, formed a sleek black hand, and yanked it out. It fell to the floor with a clank. He had read stories and seen illustrations of gods and demons, but he’d never seen anything like her. She turned toward him and padded forward, her golden eyes flickering like the sun.
Tahki scooted back. He sat about ten feet from the door and stood slowly. The cat growled and lowered her head, muscles tensed, ready to pounce. Then he reached behind him and grabbed a taxidermy black-winged fox with both hands. Before she had a chance to attack again, he hurled the fox at her face and jolted for the door. The cat hissed and screeched, and he heard her paws leave the ground. He reached the door, slid into the hallway, and slammed it shut behind him, his body bracing against it for the expected impact.
Nothing hit the door. He waited and pressed an ear to the wood. No sound stirred inside.
“What are you doing?”
Tahki jumped. Dyraien stood in the hall, watching him.
“Aren’t you a sweaty mess,” Dyraien said. “What have you been up to?”
Tahki swallowed. “I… I was….”
“Yes?”
He studied the prince. Surely he’d heard the cat roar or wondered about the sounds of their fight. Tahki’s hands shook, his teeth pressed together, and his knees buckled. Below them, he heard Rye sawing in his workshop. No one had heard, and he couldn’t tell them about the cat. They’d think he was crazy.
“I just wanted to stretch my legs,” he said in the most confident voice he could muster. “I guess I’m a little out of shape.”
Dyraien raised an eyebrow. “You know there are at least a thousand acres of land outside to run around on. But you chose to do it in here?”
Tahki tried to shrug, but his muscles felt stiff with fear. “I wanted to be near my room in case I had an idea.”
Dyraien smiled a little, but it was an impatient smile. “And how are your ideas coming along?”
Tahki needed to look inside the room to see if the cat was there or if it had been another hallucination.
“Actually,” Tahki said. “I have a design. It might take me a few days to finalize it, but I think you’ll be pleased.”
Dyraien beamed at this. “That’s good to hear, Tahki. That’s very, very good.” He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “I was beginning to think—well, never mind. I look forward to seeing your work.” He walked away with a smile on his face, and Tahki wished he hadn’t lied. None of his ideas were close to perfect. But he’d needed Dyraien to leave him alone so he could process the cat attack.
Tahki held his breath, turned to the door, opened it a sliver. Nothing stirred inside. The black cat was gone. The boar heads lay on the ground, the red-handled knife resting in the center. Tahki brought his hand to his chest and cringed. He lifted his shirt. A great red mark spread across his skin, tiny beads of blood dripping down from where the cat had pounced.
This wasn’t right. The last time he’d hallucinated, everything had reverted to its original state. There had been no water in the halls, and his clothing had been dry. But now he bled, and the taxidermy room looked like a sandbull had been let loose inside.
Which meant it hadn’t been a hallucination. But that was impossible. Dead things didn’t come to life. And why had no one else seen it? Heard it? A cat that size couldn’t simply vanish.
Tahki limped cautiously back to his room. This castle wasn’t safe. Something was after him. Only him. He needed to tell someone, to get help. Whatever was happening to him, whatever this dark thing was that hunted and tormented him, he knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Chapter 11
“IF YOU keep scratching, it won’t heal,” Sornjia said.
Tahki scratched the clawmark on his chest. The wound had swollen and pushed up red skin in three lines. He sat in Sornjia’s room, if it could be called a
