I stabbed again, driving Slayer deeper. More blood gushed in a sticky hot flood. The beast should be going down. It wasn’t. It struck at me and I scrambled its insides again and again. Die already.

Magic burned my side, as if someone had grabbed a handful of ice and thrust it straight into the cut. My blood recognized an invader and reacted, purging it from me. Lyc-V. This fucking thing was a shapeshifter.

Its regeneration meant it wouldn’t bleed out. I wasn’t causing enough damage. I had to get to its vital organs.

I slashed the ligament on its left leg.

The beast charged forward, dragging me with it. I slashed it again trying to cripple it, let go, and rolled to my feet. For half a second its back was still to me, and I jumped on it, right between the wings, grabbed its neck, and slashed its throat. Slayer’s blade slid from the scales, barely drawing blood. Shit. It would have to do. The beast braked. I yanked the necklace off my neck, looped it over its throat, and slid Slayer into the loops.

The beast reared as silver pressed against the cut. Choke on that, why don’t you?

I turned Slayer, twisting the necklace into a makeshift garrote. My side felt like someone was trying to cook me alive.

The beast shook, gurgling as the necklace bit deeper into the gash. I hung on with everything I had. To fall was to die. It veered left. I jerked my leg up a fraction of a moment before it slammed into the wall. I turned Slayer another half a turn, praying my bloody fingers wouldn’t slip.

The creature shook again. My arms shuddered from the effort.

It flipped. There was nothing I could’ve done. The beast’s weight pinned me in place. A crushing pressure ground at my chest. It rolled on me. My bones whined and I cried out.

One more twist of the garrote. Just a quarter turn.

Don’t black out, don’t black out.

Just a quarter turn.

I held on. My breath was coming in shallow tortured gasps. The beast convulsed on top of me.

I couldn’t feel my fingers.

The big body went rigid on top of me. A long hissing breath escaped it, and it went limp.

Get up, get up, get up. This alone wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t dead. It had just passed out. I could lie here all day, choking it, and Lyc-V would keep it alive.

I crawled, pushing the weight off my legs, and rolled to my knees. The necklace had bitten deep into the beast’s throat. It had likely cut its windpipe. I pulled on Slayer. Stuck. I grunted, lifting the beast’s head, and turned Slayer counterclockwise. Little more. Little more . . .

The chain of the necklace began to loosen.

Little more . . .