Water’s Edge (A Series of Sharp Edges #1)

32. Ripp

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ripp

D ense trees hide me from the nervous glances of the deputies gathered in front of Mattie’s cabin. Each one turns their heads in every direction, jumping at every cracked branch or rustle in the leaves. I no longer care to control my shift and let my true form unfold from its human prison. I long to wrap my shadowy vines around each of their throats, letting the thorns pierce their fragile skin. But I stay put—for her.

The deputies all draw their weapons as she opens the door. As she steps out, her hands are spread wide in the air. Once she’s on the porch, she lowers them. Her face is steel, giving nothing away. The men all twitch nervously, waiting for her next move.

“Come on down here, Miss Gibson. Let’s do this the easy way now,” one of them calls to her. She shakes her head. A wicked smile tugs at her lips as she places her hands in her pockets. A chorus of metallic clicks sounds through the air, every man readying his firearm. Mattie steadily descends from the porch, one step at a time.

“Kill me,” she shouts at them. “Go ahead. I know you want to. You want the glory of takin’ me down. Endin’ me.” She laughs, tossing her head back before facing them again. “Makin’ sure I don’t ‘hurt anyone else.’ I’m ready.” Her lips curl back in a snarl. “Because the truth is, you’d rather kill me than arrest any of the pieces of shit I killed.”

Shadows form around her, swirling violently like her own little tornado. Her emerald eyes glow hot, like she could burn them all down with a look. The outline of her body blurs from the vibration of her being as the magic inside her begs to erupt. The deputies don’t seem to notice the storm brewing in front of them, which is a shame, because she has never been more beautiful.

The clouds in the sky above us curl in on each other, trapped in the vortex of energy rotating below. They flash with green against the dark grey as lightning crackles through them. A few men take the risk of looking up before focusing on Mattie once more.

“Men like you don’t give a shit about women like me.” Her eyes narrow, and she chokes on her next words before spitting them out. “Or children. How many of us have to go missin’ before you turn on one of your own?”

“Miss Gibson,” the closest man to her warns. His voice shakes just enough for me to pick up on it, and his finger trembles next to the trigger, though I can’t tell if it’s from fear of her or what she’s about to say next.

“What? You afraid I’m gonna give it a mouth, deputy?” A crazed smile appears on her face. She raises her hands to her chest, revealing a pocket knife in one. She casually flips out the knife and picks at her nails. “Now one of you? One of you goes missin’, and it’s all hands on deck. Come hell or high water. Won’t leave no rock unturned.” She scoffs and spits into the dirt.

She goes silent, staring, daring any of them to tell her she’s wrong. My little bug’s last stand. A stammer of protest starts to come from one using a car to shield his body, but a quick glare from her, and he’s silent again.

“We all get what we deserve.” Her voice is eerily calm and confident.

A low, unsettling hum builds from the woods and spreads across the clearing. The Earth below us begins to shudder as ripples of energy roll beneath me and a breeze whips through the air. Her hair blows in wild strands, mixing with the shadows around her.

Mattie’s eyes flicker to where I’m hidden among the trees before she lets out a fervent howl, a painful sound full of heartache and fury. Then, before I have time to comprehend what she’s about to do, she charges. Her legs push her at full speed, knife out, towards the closest deputy.

Humans have long speculated about how their world will end. From what I’ve seen of humanity, fire seems to be the most logical choice. Time slows. Bullets rain down on her in an unavoidable hailstorm. Shouts and gunfire mix to form an overwhelming crescendo. Her scream pierces the air, but it’s not from pain or fear. It’s a battle cry, her mating call to me and a warning to the rest of this place.

Knowing how this ends doesn’t keep my being from twisting and wrenching at the sight of her agony. Pain rips through me as every piece of hot metal sears her flesh. It seals her fate. This is how it has to be. I keep repeating it like it will ease the violence resounding inside me like a thunderstorm.

The cloud of dust, gunpowder, and chaos looms thickly over her body on the ground. Panic grips me by the throat. Why hasn’t she risen from the ashes yet? Completed her transformation and ascended to take her revenge? A roar explodes from me as I rush to her. Those who weren’t rendered unconscious by the shockwave of my anguished cry fall at the sight of me. My vines and shadows throw their limp, useless bodies from my path. Lightning crashes angrily in the sky above. Pure madness pulses through me as I take in her crumpled form.

“No,” I growl. The word is a demand, a cry, a prayer to anything that would listen to a creature like me. “No,” I say, softer this time, as I pick up her broken body in my skeletal arms. I try to take an inventory of the damage, but there’s too much blood. The vial around her neck is now shattered. All that remains are tiny slivers of glass embedded around a hole in the center of her chest. Strings of shadow snake through her blood. Desperation takes hold of me, and I try to use one claw to push it back inside her.

“Ripp,” she whispers, so low, I almost miss it through my wails. Her eyes flutter open as her brilliant green eyes struggle to focus and a pained grin tugs at her lips. “It’s alright.”

Tiny flecks of blood speckle her face, and I can see the crimson hue of her mouth as she struggles to speak past the dark liquid beginning to pool in it. She coughs, more blood bubbling up from her wound, and I hold my paw against it, as though it could stop it. A raspy noise comes from her throat instead of a breath. “No, Mattie Mae,” I command her, hoping her name will save her, save us. “I’ll tear off every piece of my wretched body until yours is whole again.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, bringing her hand over mine on top of her chest. “Ripp,” her voice comes again between rattling breaths that are too far apart. “Let me go.”

My hand drops at her command. Something inside me shatters, and I can only hope that at least one of the pieces go with her. With one final sigh, her body sags lifelessly against me. My little bug is gone.