Shades of Grey
Chapter 84: The Gallows

CHATEAU DE MAUVAIS— APRIL 1844

Forma then shrank to her natural size as she lost consciousness, but something was wrong. The change wasn’t as smooth for her as it normally was, her limbs all shrank at different rates and seemed unable to maintain their size as she shifted.

“What was that?” Ryder asked, bending down to look at her once she had finished.

“I’ve no idea,” I replied, quickly picking her up.

“Do you think the curse is already affecting her? How could it? Werewolfism usually takes at least six transformations before any sort of change is visible…”

I stared at her in my hand, recalling the glowing sadistic malice in Natara’s eyes.

“Perhaps this is a stronger curse than usual,” I wondered darkly.

Suddenly, a great crash sounded from the lower levels of the castle, followed by footsteps and barked orders: soldiers were coming.

“What now?” Ryder asked.

I looked wildly around the ransacked foyer, Verrilius still lying in a great pile of rubble on the floor. It would not be long before his servants and the loyal Tournesians would come around and discover what had happened and being that Ryder and I were the only ones within the city limits who felt any sort of hatred for Verrilius (a fact which the entire populace was aware of), I was quite keen on leaving the castle quickly.

“This way,” I said, nodding to the right hand corridor as I began to run, carrying Forma in my hands.

“Where are we going?” Ryder called, running alongside me.

“Anywhere!” I replied simply. “Just not here!”

We ran silently up one of the looping staircases when I swiftly ran by my belongings that Navix had stolen from me almost two monthes ago lying abandoned near a fireplace.

“Wait!” I called to Ryder. He stopped, nodding in understanding when he saw my clothes.

“Hurry,” he urged, looking around frantically.

I boldly threw them on, rejoicing in how wonderful the cool leather felt against my beaten, malnourished flesh.

“Feel better?” Ryder asked with a smile. I grinned.

“So much better.”

Once I had placed Forma in my pocket and discarded the horrendous Asylum uniform, I pulled out my Pallitus and assumed the form of the intimidating Sharia. Ryder quickly changed into a mouse and began scurrying along the wall next to me, matching my stride.

It was strange to not be able to speak to Ryder telepathically. It was such a natural thing for Forma and me that I was suddenly aware of how strange it was to not be able to do so. I felt oddly alone. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

After traversing easily by several of Verrilius’ unsuspecting servants, I located a wooden door obscured by a large portrait of an old Tournesian ruler and a thick tapestry.

“Door, up ahead,” I whispered quietly to Ryder. He gave me an acquiescent squeak.

I quickly strode toward it and silently slipped through, emerging onto the dark streets of Tournesol.

“Going somewhere?”

I turned around sharply to a great crowd of enormous Tournesians gathered around the small door, all of them glaring at me as they held maliciously dancing torchlights in the air like a monster-hunting lynch mob. Then I remembered that they thought they were doing exactly that: I was the monster.

I watched as Ryder scurried off to the left into the darkness. I relaxed a bit knowing he was out of danger for the moment.

“Home. Is there a problem?” I spat with irritation, trying my best to mimic Sharia.

Without missing a beat, the real Sharia stepped forward and narrowed her eyes at me as though I were a child who had just attempted a foolish plan to avoid punishment. I looked down, cursing myself for not being more creative, before Navix ripped the cloak off me. The citizens were not fazed in the least. They moved as one portly entity and raised their swords to my neck. I was trapped.

“Where is Lord Verrilius?” asked Navix in a low voice from immediately to my left.

“Where do you think he is?” I countered in a similar tone. Instantly, every sword point touched my neck, pinning me in place.

“You are not in a position to speak in such ways, filthy murderer!” hissed an old, fat woman to my right.

“You are not in a position to speak at all!” Navix ammended. “To the gallows!”

The crowd began to cheer and several pairs of fat hands locked around my limbs before I was thrown into the throng of angry, portly citizens: once again as their prisoner.

“You will hang tonight, Hunter, like the filthy weakling that you are!” taunted the same old woman to my right. The crowd cackled in glee and I closed my eyes, unable to see over the tall, wide citizens. I could only listen to my furiously beating heart as I was forced to walk onward toward my death.

“Bring the rope!” ordered Navix.

I heard several cheers and suddenly I was thrown forward onto the staircase to a platform with an ominous noose swinging loosely in the wind.

“Get up, murderer!” Navix ordered, kicking me in the stomach and propelling me onto the platform. The crowd laughed and cheered as the executioner forced me to stand and brought me roughly over to the noose.

“Perfect fit,” said the executioner in a nearly infrasonic voice. I closed my eyes and bit my lips nervously as I felt the rope touch my neck. If only I could telepathically call for Ryder…

“Tonight, the Hunter has become the Hunted!” called Sharia to the crowd. They echoed her sentiment and I tried to stand strongly under the weight of my thudding heart. Never had I been filled with such panic, I truly had no idea how to escape this.

“May you rot in hell!” jeered one of the older men. The mass of enormous citizens erupted into a bout of harshly jarring laughter and I reflexively locked my muscles, preparing for the release of the floor beneath me and the sinister three seconds of falling before my neck would be broken by the rope.

The latch was released and the floor gave way but my neck never had a chance to break. Arriving with astoundingly close timing, Ryder flew back into the square as a Red-light Dragon. He blew a steady stream of fire over the heads of the crowd as I landed on his back and he quickly cut the rope with one of his great taloned feet, lithely flying off into the night and away from the seething Tournesians.

I sighed curtly in relief.

“Thanks!” I said, tapping his great neck.

“You’re welcome,” he replied through another growl.

“How do you do that?” I asked, knowing Forma would want to know.

“It is a skill I picked up in Japan. Many of the dragons there are strangely loquacious.”

I laughed aloud as we flew forward towards the woods and away from the angry citizens of Tournesol.

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