Northern Crown [t.r]

Chapter Sixteen

  Without any further hesitation, Tom's wand flicked forward with such ferocity he knew he might've strained something. He didn't care. He was seeing red and the spell glimmering around them reflected that.

  Bellatrix let out an excited squeal of delight, but fear was evident in her wild eyes. She knew what he had been capable of, he nearly killed her once. And it was clear this time he was much more angry. Her own arm twisted and a curse shot forth.

  He wanted to laugh, and without realizing it he was. The sound was sinister and foreign, he sounded like a mad man as he hurled another cruciatus curse at her—one after another in a thundering procession.

  Merlin, she looked frightened now. He felt dizzy as he lashed at her, and though she was able to block each curse, it was making her stance and strength crumble. Her feet were skidding and dragging against the dirt, not being able to stand still for more than a second. All she could focus on was blocking the curse.

  The window was open.

  Evertestatum.

  He didn't waste a moment as she was flying through the air and shot the cruciatus curse at her again, slamming right into her chest and she fell to the ground in a pathetic heap of twitching flesh.

  He dropped to one knee at her side and his hand wrapped around her throat and brought her head off the ground, keeping it still as the rest of her body thrashed in agony.

  Her eyes were bulging, but she refused to scream. Her face was red and veins were swollen beneath her pale skin as she let out agonizing but silent yells of frustration behind clenched teeth.

  He forced her to look at him, and just then— yes there it is. Recognition. Tom's face was white as a ghost, but carved from marble as he revealed nothing but pure hatred as he stared at her. There was a dead look to him, while his eyes were like the pits from hell and fathomless. He was an empty carcass of a boy who had been overtaken by a monster.

  If Bellatrix believed in God, she would say the devil was leering over her delivering his judgment.

  But no, she knew who this was.

  "Say it."

  His voice was calm, deep, and horrifying. He was giving nothing away, he offered no solace in her terror.

  She choked out a scream and blood spatter out and over his face.

  Tom didn't know what happened.

  He could've just used the spell. It was a memorized lullaby on his lips, but he didn't use it.

  He could smell blood— he could taste it.

  He needed it.

  An insatiable hunger took over him and he let himself retreat into the dusty crevices of mind. It was like he took a step back inside body as black ink started to creep around the corners of his vision.

  The inky strings wrapped around each of his limbs and made him into a grotesque puppet for the morbid hunger of bloodlust.

  His body snapped to attention when his mind went silent and a newfound strength surged through his veins.

  The creature was loose.

  Tom stood up, Bellatrix's neck still tight in his grip and her feet kicked out in jerks of desperation. His held tilted to the side as he watched her for a moment.

  Pathetic.

  He slammed her up against a tree and a sharp gasp for air broke past her in a wail.

  "Wait—"