“I’ll drive,” Gillian said. She wanted to live, too. “I’ll get help. I can get through just as easily…”
“We can’t let them have you,” Patty answered, ignoring Gillian. “Think, Talia.”
Talia’s mind took one second to consider the option and had her decision: if she left Patty and Gillian to the soul-sucking attentions of the wraiths, she might as well cough up her own spirit, because it would be dead and useless thereafter.
Talia shook her head, no. She was going to stay. The choice went down her throat like a rough brick.
What she needed was something that approximated courage, a little bravado maybe. Then, when the opportunity to run had passed, an instinctive will to live would kick in, and she’d fight for real.
The gun pressed into her waist in cold comfort.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Talia managed to keep her voice respectably steady, considering acid burned up the back of her throat. She tensed her dread-weakened knees and slipped the backpack off her shoulders to drop with a soft smack on the street.
Talia’s fear intensified with her resolution, and the world shifted in front of her. Shadow. Where before the thick trees and old brick buildings were crisp and mundane, the reds and greens dusted with street dirt and time, now darkness cloaked them and softened their edges.
“What the hell…?” Gillian shrieked.
“Stop, Talia,” Patty said, edging her voice with authority. “We can’t risk you when a war is coming, and it’s going to take your whole bag of tricks to get out of here, regardless.”
“War’s here, Patty,” Talia said. “Just ask Adam.”
“Damn it, Talia, run,” Patty said, spinning slowly to position herself behind her.
They stood back-to-back in the middle of the street with no fewer than three…Talia glanced to her left…make that four wraiths bearing down on them.
“I can get us in the car. You just have to hold on to me.” Talia chewed her lip. “Then we’ll draw them after us to Segue, where there is more help.”
“How the hell do you think you can…?” Gillian said, voice wavering.
“Just hold on to me,” Talia said. “It’s about to get dark.”
Talia reached, gripped cold, ethereal silk, and brought down the shadows. Gillian’s hand floundered in the sudden absence of senses. Talia grabbed it, attached her to Patty, and clasped Patty’s hand.
The wraiths waded into her darkness, searching, racing for the car.
Talia drew the gun. The handle slipped in her slick palm. She let go of the women to clasp the weapon with both hands.
She raised the gun, hoping it was loaded, aimed at the wraith climbing over the vehicle, and fired.
The report thumped dully in her grasp. The gun expelled the bullet and the glittering missile traveled the darkness sluggishly, surreal trails warping the air in its wake.
Talia saw the miss in the bullet’s trajectory and—heart lodged in her throat—willed the silver projectile on a more accurate course.
The bullet obeyed.
Whoa… Talia swallowed her shock and drove the pellet between the wraith’s eyes with her mind. His screech cut short as his body fell dumbly to the pavement.
Gillian’s fluttering hands found the car. She opened the driver’s-side door and crawled across to the passenger side. Patty didn’t follow, but turned and looked blankly into the darkness.
“You first,” Patty called. Her voice bent and echoed, now distant, now near, across the shadows. She blindly grabbed hold of Talia’s shirt to forcibly push her into the car.
Not enough time. The three remaining wraiths descended. Lacking sight, they slinked up to the car with arms outstretched.
Talia raised the gun again and shot at close range. The wraith crumbled. Another crouched, hand braced on the concrete, preparing to strike.
She aimed again, but an arm banded around her waist. Patty, attempting to drag her into the car. Talia’s balance faltered.
A wraith lashed out and caught Talia at her wrist. The pressure of his grasp made her bones ache. Her fingers prickled, then burned, and the gun dropped to the street with a distant pat and bounce.
Talia struggled against his hold, sitting into her hips and throwing her weight back. But he was too strong. Too immovable. She was a rag doll for his rough play.
Tears blurred her vision as she tried to pry his grip away. No good. Hopeless.
“He’s got me,” Talia gasped at Patty. “Go!”
But Patty stepped in front of Talia. Patty’s trembling hand found the wraith’s grip. Instead of trying to pull him off, which was pointless, she traveled up his arm to his shoulder.
“Patty, they won’t hurt me. They tried to take me alive before. Alive. I’ll be fine,” Talia said. Her eyes prickled. This was it, the end, and she knew it. Those wraiths might take her alive, but once there, things would be bad. Very bad.
Patty launched herself at the monster. Grabbed hold of his head. And kissed him on the mouth.
Talia’s heart stopped in awe, tears burning down her face.
The opportunity was too much for the wraith to resist. The wraith released Talia’s arm. She fell back and hit her head on the car. Was grabbed from behind and pulled inside.
“Where’s Patty?” Gillian shouted, the sound distant. “I can’t see a freaking thing!”
Talia could. The wraith tilted his head, opened his mouth, and fed. An agonizing wrench tore at Talia’s heart—no deeper—as Patty’s essence disappeared into his maw. A great spirit, beautiful in its clarity, shuddered and then doused in the monster’s gullet.
“Talia!” Gillian yelled again.
Talia bled internally at the loss. She didn’t deserve the gift, but she wouldn’t see it sacrificed in vain. Not if she could help it. She slammed the door shut.
Gillian already had the key in the ignition, the engine idling. Talia released the parking brake, set the car in drive, and floored it.
ELEVEN
ADAM settled himself into a column of numbers, expenses generated by his staff doing fieldwork all over the world. He approved most out of hand, particularly those for comfort and keep. The work at Segue was grueling, ongoing, and increasingly dangerous as the wraith population spread and redoubled. If a suite in a hotel made research less of a burden, so be it. Money really didn’t matter anymore.
His mobile phone buzzed on his desk, traveling slightly over the page with the vibration. He picked it up and hit TALK.
A woman’s voice sobbed unintelligibly into the phone, threaded with panic and near hysteria. Adam’s gut knotted—he recognized the identifying timbre lacing her disjointed syllables.
“Gillian?” He kept his voice calm, though his pulse leaped. “What’s happened?”
“They’re behind us…coming to Segue.”
“Wraiths?” Adam hit the central alarm, alerting the staff to go to their designated meeting place and account for one another. A list of on-site personnel flicked onto his monitor. The floor trembled as the redundant security measures cut off Jacob’s cell from the rest of Segue—the guards downstairs would just have to wait this out. He queued the Segue perimeter cameras. A typical midmorning on the mountain. All quiet, the tree leaves shuffling softly. Yet their early shadows seemed menacing now. Too dark and concealing.
He never should’ve allowed the women to leave without an armed escort. He’d succumbed to the worst possible mental rut, a false sense of security. He’d been careful to keep Segue’s function hidden from anyone outside his carefully selected team of researchers, but over time the weight of secrecy would have gained an imperative inertia of its own. Someone eventually had to slip. Had already slipped.