Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 159
159
Banno stopped, his jaw still open wide, his single eye fixed on the serrated blade. It was only a fraction of a moment, but in it, James saw something that would stay with him for the rest of his life.
The flat of the blade caught the fireplace like a mirror, reflecting its wavering orange light directly onto Luke's face, illuminating the crinkled muzzle and snarling teeth in a hellish glow while leaving the top half in shadow, enshrouding a pair of empty eyes completely devoid of emotion. It was like his face had been divided in twain: one half a mask of irrepressible rage, the other a cowl of apathy.
James didn't know which half was more terrifying.
"Leave my family alone!" Luke raised the knife and brought it down in a vicious arc, aiming for Banno's good eye.
The brute jerked his head to the side and pushed Luke away at the same time in an effort to avoid the attack. It was close.
But not quite close enough.
The tip of the knife pierced the thin layer of burnt skin just above his muzzle, and as Banno moved his head, it cut a clean, horizontal line through his flesh before disappearing into the hollow socket where his right eye used to be. Without even an eyelid for protection, the blade shot through without any resistance, carried by the momentum of Luke's furious strike, and pierced the thin layer of bone with a sound not unlike an egg cracking to pieces underfoot. Blood and puss erupted from the socket in a filthy deluge, a red waterfall tinted with streaks of yellow, pouring all over Banno's face.
The haft slipped free of Luke's grasping fingers, and for a moment there was no sound at all save for the howling wind and the steady patter of blood dripping down onto Jon's living room floor.
James lay where he had fallen, blinking blood out of his eyes, the stairs digging painfully into his back, and stared up at this impossible sight.
His son, hanging by the wrist, punching and clawing at a massive black arm, an arm already crisscrossed with dozens of shallow cuts and scratches, and Banno, still standing with a knife lodged deep inside his head. Still standing...
Still standing.
Banno slowly reached up and made a grab for the handle. His movements were slow and sluggish and he missed several times before his fingers finally curved around the wood.
Luke had stopped struggling and, just like his father, could only stare, open-mouthed, at what was happening.
Banno tugged on the knife. At first there was no give, so he yanked again, and this time the blade came partially loose with a nauseating squeal of metal. Every tooth in the serrated edge made a clicking noise as he pulled it out, inch by inch, scraping against bone. He hadn't even gone halfway before the blade turned crimson, and then, with one final tug, he ripped the whole thing out, showering Luke's face in a spray of blood.
Banno swayed in place, blood pouring down his front in rivulets. His shoulder twitched. His fingers spasmed like the legs of a dying spider. The knife dropped to the floor with a clatter.
Die, you sick bastard, James's thought, holding his breath. Just drop dead and die!
And then his remaining eye locked onto Luke's blood-splattered face, and seemed to clear. No, more than that. It narrowed down to a slit, and his lips peeled back into a snarl. Blood flowed over his exposed teeth. "Fake..."
A dull crack suddenly filled the room. At first James thought a knot must have exploded in the fireplace, but then the screaming started. Luke thrashed and flailed, kicking his feet, whipping his head back and forth in agony, screaming bloody murder. It was a high-pitched sound that drilled into James's ears, the sound of one of his kids in terrible pain. And that's when he noticed the strange new way in which his boy's wrist was angled, as if it had magically grown a new joint to swivel from.
Banno had broken his wrist with one hand, simply by pushing it back with his thumb.
James worked his way up onto his elbows, snuffling back blood. The stench of it was strong in his nostrils. He could barely breathe.
Banno's fingers were closing, the pressure was building. His knuckles stood out like stones. Luke threw his head back and screamed at the ceiling - the helpless cries of a child in unbearable pain. Blood seeped out from between Banno's fingers and dripped into the spreading puddle beneath his feet, and there was nothing James could do to stop it.
But I promised...
James held his breath and began to sit up. Immediately an invisible spear lodged in his chest, going deeper and deeper with every heartbeat. Spots of blood seeped through his bandages and stained his clothes. He ignored it all.
"Dad!" Luke screamed, trying desperately to break free.
The knife... gotta get to the knife...
It was lying in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs, right next to Banno's severed stump. He just had to reach it. Even if he had to throw his weak, broken body down the stairs to do it...
"Let my brother go!"
Frantic footsteps came thudding down the stairs and then something sailed right over James's head. With all the blood running down his face, it was little more than a blurry streak, but there was no mistaking that voice.
"Timothy, no!" James tried to grab him, but he was too slow, and the boy crashed headfirst into Banno's shoulder with every ounce of weight he had. Banno stumbled back and sank down to one knee while Timothy dropped like a stone, flat on his stomach. Luke wrenched himself free the moment his feet touched the floor and staggered towards the fireplace, clutching his bleeding, broken wrist against his chest, gasping for breath and moaning in pain.
Banno's hand went up to his temple, as if to placate a bad headache. Brought low like that, James could see that the gash in his back was still there, wide open and festering, the edges crusted over with frozen blood and puss. There were broken arrow shafts sticking out of his flesh in disarray, swivelling around as he moved his muscles.
This might be their only chance.
"Tim, the knife!" James said, every word tasting of iron. "Grab the knife!"
Banno twisted around at the sound of his voice and locked gazes with Timothy, who was only now getting up on his hands and knees, shaking like a leaf. The lad probably hadn't been thinking at all when he launched himself through the air like that, and now he was stuck down there at the foot of the stairs, looking a giant in the eye.
I can't believe my sons are fighting while I'm just lying here like a cripple! James thought, disgusted with himself. What was a little bit of pain when his sons might literally get torn apart before his eyes?
Banno reached for Tim with claws every bit as deadly as the knife on the floor, and no matter how much James yelled at him to move, it was no use. The boy was frozen solid.
James tried to get up again, and his fingers brushed against something cold and smooth. It was a chunk of the bottle he had smashed earlier. Most of the longer slivers were already lodged inside Banno's face, but this piece still had a bit of heft to it. He snatched it up and hurled it as hard as he could, clenching his teeth against the searing pain in his chest. The chunk of glass sailed over Tim's head and smashed to pieces against Banno's muzzle, carving several shallow scratches into his flesh. Banno flinched back, probably more out of surprise than pain (after everything he had witnessed, James was certain a monster like this was incapable of feeling pain). It wasn't much, but it bought him enough time to make one critical decision.
Go for the knife, or go for his son?
Banno shook the glass out of his fur, splashing droplets of blood and puss in every direction. He was recovering already, growling from deep inside his throat - a wet, guttural sound.
James sat up, supressing a scream at the stabbing pain in his chest, and grabbed his boy by the collar. Gritting his teeth, he heaved him back up the stairs in one, clumsy motion that left him feeling weak and wobbly.
"Dad, you're bleeding!" Timothy said, full of concern, as James gasped for breath, constantly sniffing back the blood dripping from his nose.
"I'm fine." He slowly got back to his feet with Timothy's help, one hand clutched over his bleeding chest, the other planted firmly against the wall. Luke, meanwhile, was still trapped on the wrong side, writhing in agony, staring in horror at the freak show his wrist had become, a bloody lump of meat with extra corners.
Banno was getting up, rising higher and higher, and he had the knife clasped tightly in his bleeding hand. He raised it up to his one good eye, turning the blade over and over, watching the way the firelight played across the red, glistening surface. The next moment he spun on his heel and flung the knife at the window, shattering it into a hundred pieces and sending the only weapon they had careening into the storm. He turned back with a vacant smile spreading across his bloody lips, the wind blowing through his fur.
"What should we do, Dad?" Tim asked. It was a perfectly logical question, but one that James didn't have an answer for. He couldn't stop staring at that smile. That dead, rotting smile. It was like looking into the face of a grinning corpse, crawling with maggots, and he was instantly transported back to that horrible night, still so fresh in his mind. Lying on the floor, his fingers broken and throbbing, Banno standing over him with a fireplace poker in his hands. He had told his children to run, to disappear, to not look back. It was a desperate order that nearly got them killed, and now it was happening all over again.
No, James thought, listening to the storm raging outside. Tonight was worse. Far worse.
The wind was still howling and battering the side of the house. Snow was still blowing in through the crashed doorway. There was nothing but freezing darkness out there. No lights at all, not even from the moon. How long could they possibly last? An hour? Less? Out in the open fields surrounding this hill, there wouldn't even be a hollow log for them to climb into.
James looked past Banno's hulking form, at the snow blowing in from the smashed doorway and the darkness beyond. There was a whole town in the valley down below, filled with Foxes, but what if they got lost along the way? What if they lost their bearings? They would die, it was as simple as that. He knew there was a road leading into town, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see it. Even with the firelight spilling onto the porch in a fan shape, it didn't catch anything other than the stuttering white flickers of snowflakes racing by on the wind. Beyond that it was just a uniform wall of blackness. And even if they did manage to escape this house, what then? Banno was fast, even with a missing foot he would catch up to them somewhere along the road. Unless... unless he stayed behind? Maybe he could keep Banno busy, buy his children enough time to get away? But if he failed, Banno would just track them down again. He'd break through the door of whatever family was kind enough to give them shelter and...
James bit down on his lip, hating the way the blood from his nose was constantly trying to get into his mouth, and hating his inability to come up with a decent plan even more. No matter how hard he thought, everything he came up with had some horrible drawback, a worst case scenario in which his entire family either ended up frozen solid or torn to pieces.
Banno took one step, then came to a jarring halt. His eye widened and a surge of blood came gushing out of his mouth. It splattered across his chest and dripped down to the floor. His shoulders heaved and yet more came bubbling out of his cavernous throat, and that's when James realised that this wasn't exactly the same as before. He didn't know what had happened to him, but Banno was in no condition to fight like that. He probably didn't even know it himself, but he was dying. It was an unholy miracle that he hadn't dropped dead hours ago.
That meant there was a chance.
James's hands curled into fists at his side. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but the only thing that could save his family for certain, the only way he had to guarantee they live long enough to see the end of this storm, was to kill this monster right here.
Right now.
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