Valkyrie gasped. Stepped back. Both hands closed round the tentacle. It was warm. Slick. It pulsed with life.
She dropped to her knees.
Inside her chest, the head of the parasite squirmed.
Skeiri held up her other hand. Her palm opened. The second parasite readied itself. Aimed right at Valkyrie’s face.
It launched but Valkyrie caught it one-handed. It snapped at her.
With her free hand, Valkyrie grabbed a shard of broken vase and slashed, severing the parasite’s head from its body. Skeiri screamed and both tendrils retracted into her palms and she staggered back, clutching her right wrist, sobbing.
Blood drenching her T-shirt, Valkyrie got up. Abyssinia took hold of her, threw her against the wall. A framed picture was dislodged. Fell.
Valkyrie’s weak knees. Hot blood against cold skin. Abyssinia’s hand on Valkyrie’s head, her mind peering into Valkyrie’s thoughts. Confident. Arrogant.
Vulnerable.
Valkyrie’s hands clutched Abyssinia’s head.