Page 46 of Wrong Squad, Right Mess

She took a step forward, then paused, gaze narrowing. “You’re a guide, right? I can feel it, so much more than I ever did before. Fuck, this is amazing. It’s like you surrender, you give in, and everything gets so much better.”

“You just need help.” There was no help for her—I knew that better than most. She was too far gone, having toppled over that edge, having given herself to the madness that the corruption whispered to her.

She was Corsa. She was the madman from the hotel. She was one of a million other espers who had crossed that line, forced to accept their fate.

There was nothing left for them but death—either others or their own. It couldn’t go another way.

Of course, if she ended up killing me, that solved a few things, right?

Except the idea didn’t last long before Pear leaped forward, lunging, teeth bared, claws out. It might have been sweet if I didn’t know that the thing only protected me because of Corsa.

The woman reacted easily, swinging her fist, not even bothering to avoid the beast. She struck it in the face, knocking the huge creature to the side. It hit the ground, whimpering, but trying to pull itself back toward her, toward me. Any normal creature would have given in after that damage, at least given itself a minute to check for injuries, but Corsa’s poison must have run deep inside it.

Even with a jaw clearly dislocated, even with joints damaged from striking the ground, it dragged the useless limbs behind it, through the soil and ash.

The woman laughed, a cruel glint in her eyes as though she enjoyed that thing’s pain.

No matter how much I hated monsters and dungeons and even corrupted, I’d never found pleasure in their suffering. I’d never wanted to see them writhe and twist, never wanted them to endure anything more than needed. Maybe that created the difference between us?

I held onto that, onto the idea that I was different from Corsa, because I didn’t want to see the torment of even things I hated.

She took another step forward, and Spot curled around me, placing himself between the woman and me, as though he didn’t care to repeat the mistake the other had made.

She paused, taking in the sight. “This is strange. How is it that you have beasts at your feet like pets? That’s the first time I’ve seen that. Are they saving you for a snack? Going to tear you apart limb by limb? Will they enjoy turning you inside out and they don’t want anyone else to have a piece?” She clicked her tongue like she was scolding a child. “That’s selfish, you know that?”

I took a step backward, wanting more distance between us. I wasn’t sure I could even defend myself, not after how much effort it had taken to drain all four espers against their will. Could I even hurt this one if she grabbed me? If she…

The thought of her forcing guiding had me shuddering, had my thoughts racing. I wanted to say that wouldn’t happen again, that it wasn’t possible, but I knew better than to trust in such absolutes. I never would have thought it could happen the first time, but look at where I’d ended up.

Spot’s tail twitched, back and forth, like a tiger looking for the right moment to pounce. The strength she’d showed told me she was likely a combat esper, which made this all the more difficult. I couldn’t outrun her, couldn’t hope to do much of anything.

I couldn’t even try to run back to Carter and the others, because if they were still unconscious—which I had to assume they were—I’d only bring danger to them. My legs trembled, but I tightened my hands into fists and forced myself to stay upright, to continue to step backward as Spot remained there, between us.

When she approached Spot, her gaze barely strayed from me, as though the hulking, growling monster meant nothing to her. When it lunged, she caught it by the throat and threw it beyond the treeline. Things crashed outside of my line of sight, but after the initial chaos, there was nothing to suggest Spot moved again.

What the hell? Am I actually sorry about a monster?

Except I was. Maybe it was all selfishness, a desire to have something on my side, even if it was a beast, or maybe I felt a strange connection to a beast who’d fought for me, one who was being controlled by Corsa, much like I was.

I backed into a tree, sliding around it, trying to keep a few feet between the woman and myself. She didn’t stop, didn’t slow, didn’t speed, as though she were inevitable.

“When I felt that snap, I really thought I was done for. I had so much panic for a moment there, this pain between my temples, but you know what I realized? All that was, was my resistance. I was pulling away, and that caused the pain. When I gave in, it all stopped. I’m still me, just better. Freer.” She tilted her head. “You could be free, too.”

“Thanks, but I’m good,” I assured her, wishing my voice came out stronger.

“You say that because you don’t know any better, like a kid who doesn’t want to take their medicine. It isn’t the real you, because you’ve never met the real you.”

I blinked, and in the sliver of time it took to close my eyes, then open them again, she’d moved from a few feet away to just before me. I yanked backward out of instinct, but she caught me with a hand around my arm, her grip too tight.

She shuddered, her lips shifting into a wider grin. “Oh, you are a special one, aren’t you? Is this how it always is once an esper lets go? Does guiding always feel this good?”

The sensation of her corruption rushing into me made me sick, made my stomach rebel and threaten to rid itself of the soup Carter had cooked earlier. Corsa was one thing—it was horrible, but it was familiar. This was different, a new horror, a sinking feeling that made it all worse.

It made me feel filthy, like something that had been used too many times and would never be clean again.

I pulled with all my strength, but it did nothing against her superior grip, my feet sliding against the soil. I reached with my free arm for something—anything. My fingers wrapped around the tree beside me, grasping a branch only as thick as a dry-erase marker. It broke away beneath my frantic motions, since all the wood in dungeons tended to be brittle.

I thought about Carter, about Ingram and Shear, who all would have told me to fight like hell, to do whatever I could, that survival now meant more than anything else. My body moved on its own. I didn’t swing the branch like a bat—a corrupted would hardly notice, assuming I made contact at all. Instead, I held it like a dagger and aimed for her throat, hoping the distraction would give me the precious moments I needed.