Before These Wings (Wings Book 1)

by Wendy Knight

  “With the roads the way they are, and the abandoned vehicles clogging up the freeway, she’s faster on her feet.” Enika pointed to her own wrapped ankle. “I am not.”

  “Fine. But there’s no gas anywhere, Enika. We can’t drive after her on hopes and dreams.”

  “Crutches? A wheel chair?”

  “We have none of those.”

  She leaned against the counter and folded her arms, scowling. “Well, we can’t stay here.”

  “We can.” Cole dropped his chin to his chest in defeat, rubbing the back of his neck. “We have to. If she’s not back by the time your ankle is better, we’ll go after her. Until then, we have to give her somewhere to come home to. There’s just no other way.”

  Enika sobbed. She didn’t cry, not often. Not anymore. But she cried now. “She’s out there alone, Cole. We can’t just leave her—”

  “We aren’t leaving her, Enika,” Cole erupted. “She left us, remember? She chose this, and I tried to stop her, and she didn’t care.”

  “She did care,” Enika shot back. “That’s why she left.”

  Cole left the window and crossed to the kitchen. Enika threw herself in his arms, and he let her cry for long minutes, hours, months, he didn’t know. It felt like an eternity, and he knew she wasn’t crying just for Phoenyx, but for everything they’d lost.

  He cried too. He cried for Phoenyx.

  Chapter 11

  THE SNOW WAS MELTING, WHICH MADE it infinitely easier to survive. Phoenyx had been on her own for months, she had no idea how she was still alive, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would last. The Pys still hunted her.

  Those aliens could hold a grudge.

  She’d gotten good at hiding in the night, though, when they came out to play. It was easier with just one person. Underground was best, if she could find it. Basements, cellars, old canal pipes. Unfortunately, that was also where the Garce liked to hide.

  Which was why she had no idea how she was still alive.

  Running, mostly. They were fast, but fear made her faster.

  She’d found the Pys’ ship two days ago. The Garce seemed to be drawn to the Pys, and this area was dangerous. Not to mention, they’d docked on Antelope Island in the middle of the Great Salt Lake, which was almost impossible to get to without being seen. There was literally nothing around it for miles and miles. No trees, no bushes. Nothing.

  She leaned against the wall in the drain pipe she hid in and watched the ship. The sun would go down soon, and the Pys would come out. They knew she was close, but they hadn’t found her yet. Akit and Aylin especially liked to sing to her. She’d twice almost fallen into their trap and come out of hiding. Their voices were lilting and hypnotic. Instead, she’d focused on Cole’s voice, the one she always heard in her head telling her goodbye, and drowned them out.

  He saved her.

  Movement caught her eye, and she immediately pushed away from the wall, ready to run, but it was at the ship, not nearby. She jerked the binoculars she’d stolen up to her eyes as a doorway slid open on the ship, its shiny metallic surface catching the rays of the setting sun and nearly blinding her.

  A Py fell out, into the sun. She sprang to her feet, wings pumping hard, and ran back for the door. Smoke rose from her skin and even from so far away, Phoenyx could hear her screams.

  Other Pys blocked the doorway and shoved her back again, pushing her into the dirt. The door slid shut and she was left alone, her screams echoing through the area, nearly shattering Phoenyx’s ear drums. Flames burst from her skin as the sun ate her alive, and she burned while the Pys looked on from the safety of their ship.

  Phoenyx covered her mouth with her hand, horrified. They were killing each other now? But why? And why did she feel sorrow for this monster who had taken so much from her?

  Because it was awful. It was betrayal. And it was horrific. No one should die like that.

  Long after the Py had burned to nothing more than dust, Phoenyx stood there, staring. Frozen in indecision, she didn’t hear the Garce until they were nearly upon her. The smell hit her, knocked her out of her trance, and she ran.

  Running kept her alive.

  She raced out of the pipe and into a subdivision, the Garce too close. She heard her track coach screaming in her head, telling her to breathe, to use her arms, to stay on her toes. She skidded around a corner, surrounded by fenced yards and rotting porches.

  And more Garce.

  They hadn’t heard her, miraculously, and she whirled back the way she came.

  The Garce were there too.

  She swore and spun again, but there were Garce in front of her, Garce behind her, and a fence to the right. A fence that she could jump to the roof from.

  No more hesitating. The Garce in front of her had caught her scent and were following it straight back to where she stood. She ran to the fence, grabbing the lip and pulling herself up, wondering when, exactly, she’d gained that kind of upper body strength. Her toes dug into the wood, helping her clamber to her feet.

  The roof was still out of reach.

  The Garce in front had spotted her and with a collective roar, they roiled straight at her. The ones behind snarled and snapped, starving for her flesh and unwilling to share. Were humans so hard to come by now that they were forced to fight each other over them?

  She hadn’t seen another soul for weeks.

  She sucked in a breath, gathering her courage, and sprang for the opposite house, grateful that these were built so close together. She hit the wall above the window and shoved off, launching herself backward into the air. Twisting like a gymnast she never was, she managed to just grab the ledge of the roof with her fingertips and hung for several long seconds, breathing hard, before she slowly clawed her way up, inch by precious inch — first by her fingers, then palms, and finally her elbows, her feet dangling, kicking uselessly like they were possibly helping.

  The Garce got there just as she scrambled out of reach. They sprang at the fence, snapped at her feet, but couldn’t reach. Not yet.

  But it was almost nightfall, and the Pys would be out. She couldn’t be caught on a roof, just sitting there waiting to be picked off. She ran up the steep pitch, slipping and sliding on loose shingles, and back down the other side. The Garce stayed behind, still waiting for her to fall where they’d last seen her. The next house was probably a five foot jump, and she had no idea if she’d make it or fall and impale herself on the fence below, but she had to try. She sprinted down the slope, gaining speed, momentum, and hoping all those math and science classes didn’t fail her, and then she jumped. She was probably only in the air for seconds, but it felt like forever waiting for her foot to hit solid ground, praying she wouldn’t fall.

  Her prayers were heard, and she slammed into the opposite roof, tumbling up the pitch. She felt skin tear, shingles falling away under her feet, but she kept moving, trying to put as much ground between her and the Garce as possible. This house had a window at the top of the roof, where the two sides met in a steep triangle. She climbed up there, laid on her belly, and tried to knock the window out. Her arms were too short, which was somewhat ironic because when she’d learned archery years ago, her teacher had said she had freakishly long arms. Freakishly long arms that did her no good now. She sat up, looked for other options, but found none. She had to go through that window.

  She spun around, dropped off the roof and hung by her hands. If this failed, she would fall a very long way down onto what had once been a patio. A broken leg was her best hope, and that was a death sentence anyway. She swung back and forth, gaining momentum, relying again on math and wishing she didn’t hate it so much. Her toes hit the glass, but not hard enough to break it. She swung again, felt her fingers slipping, her arms shaking with effort.

  She swung toward the window just as her fingers failed her. She free-fell straight into the glass, crashed through feet first, and felt the shards tear at the skin in her back. She landed in a heap on the floor as blood soaked through her shi
rt and stained the carpet.

  Groaning, she pushed herself to her feet and checked the vanity mirror, twisting and turning to see the extent of her injuries. The cut bled but wasn’t bad enough to need stitches she didn’t think. Which was good, because there was no imaginable way she could stitch herself up from that angle. She would live. But she had to get out of there. The Garce had heard the noise and were in the back yard now. It was only a matter of time before they came inside and she’d be forced back onto the roof. She found a towel, tied it around her, and taped it to her back for good measure to try to stop the bleeding, and called it good. She couldn’t wait any longer for the bleeding to stop.

  Outside, the Garce tore at the back door.

  She took the stairs two at a time, giving up on being stealthy when she’d crashed through the window like a battering ram. From the landing, she could see Garce on both sides of the door. But maybe, if she ran hard enough, she could make it out of the house, across the field. If she ran hard enough.

  There was no time to weigh pros and cons. She was out of options. She flung the front door open and bolted through it, running with everything she had left.

  The Garce on both sides snapped toward her, snarling and hissing. She didn’t look, didn’t guess how far away they were. She kept her eyes ahead, focused on each footstep, each breath. To falter now, one wrong step, would be death. Their ragged, blood-thirsty growls echoed in her ears, too close, too close, but she didn’t turn. Not yet. Keep running, keep running.

  She made it past the houses with the Garce breathing down her neck. The field spread out in front of her, and beyond that, the mountain rose into the darkness. She had no idea what she would do when she got there. The face rose straight up, and if she could climb fast enough, the Garce wouldn’t be able to follow and there were trees and bushes and shelter from the Pys. But whether she’d be able to climb fast enough would be the question. Or climb at all.

  Actually, if she’d make it there would be the question.

  She was so focused on the cliff face that she didn’t see the new pack of Garce closing in on both sides. They flanked her, spread out like a rabid V behind her, and now to the left and right, closing in fast. If she didn’t run like the wind, move more quickly than she ever had before, she’d be trapped.

  Cole’s voice in her head bellowed at her that he knew she could move faster than that. She sucked in a ragged breath, and she lengthened her stride, devouring the ground beneath her with each step.

  Run, Phoenyx. Run.

  * * *

  ENIKA STILL LIMPED, BUT as soon as she’d been able to put weight on her foot, they’d gone searching. That had been over a month ago. They’d run into Keven a couple weeks later and he’d joined them, but they’d made no progress. Cole wasn’t even sure they were traveling in the right direction. Phoenyx had headed south, so they had too, but odds were against them that she’d stayed in one straight path for all these months.

  Still, they’d made their way in ever widening circles, checking blood spatters like they knew what they were doing, hiding from Garce, and watching for Pys. Pys who had raided their neighborhood. Taken every female they could find and killed everything else.

  Never trust beautiful things.

  Phoenyx was beautiful. She’d abandoned them.

  They’d stopped at a cliff face, surveying the valley below because it was full of Garce. They’d been scarce for the most part until now. Maybe they had a lair or something nearby, Cole didn’t know, but the farther south they went, the more aliens they found.

  “It’s going to be dark soon,” Keven squinted at the sky. “We need to find a place to hang out for the night.”

  He said hang out, because none of them ever slept. Not anymore.

  “What’s going on down there?” Enika asked, pulling the gun sight away from Cole so she could peer through. She still didn’t have a weapon, but she’d become amazingly adept at fighting off aliens with whatever she had handy.

  Keven raised his sight as well. “It looks like there’s someone alive. Not for long, though. Too many Garce.”

  Cole’s blood ran cold. Watching someone get devoured by Garce, especially a pack that size, was not something he’d ever want to see again. It had happened several weeks ago, and he hadn’t been able to get the vision out of his head since. Enika shuddered and handed him the gun back. He peered through the scope, adjusting it, trying to clarify whatever it was the Garce chased.

  He recognized that hair. That stride. That face. “It’s Phoenyx!” he screamed, dropping the scope. “Run, Phoenyx! Run!”

  There were Garce in front of her, closing a gap she was running straight toward. “She’ll never make it,” Keven breathed.

  Cole leaned over the edge of the cliff, watching in horror as she ran harder and harder, seeming to pull strength from somewhere deep, deep inside where the aliens couldn’t steal it. She lengthened her stride, raised her chin, and ran for the gap.

  And out of sight.

  Cole swore and nearly tumbled head-first off the cliff. She was blocked by the side of the mountain. He couldn’t see her, couldn’t see what happened. Enika screamed, Keven screamed, but it did nothing. All he could hear was the echo of the Garce, snarling and snapping and fighting on the other side of the cliff face.

  He’d come so close. He’d found her.

  Just to watch her die.

  “Wait.” Enika grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his skin. “Do you hear that?”

  He heard Garce, and the sound of his heart shattering in its chest, his soul giving up, and everything worth fighting for dying below him.

  “Listen!” she yelled as if she read his mind.

  He shook his head and obliged her, straining to hear beyond the Garce.

  Breathing.

  Harsh, ragged breathing.

  His blood roared in his ears as he jerked his head up. Phoenyx shot around the corner, out of smoke and death, straight toward them.

  “Get her out of there!” he bellowed.

  Cole jerked his gun to his shoulder and aimed. One mis-fire and he’d hit her, but if he was careful, he could buy her precious seconds. His entire body wanted to tremble, but he refused to let it. He couldn’t falter. Not now.

  He pulled off a shot, hit a Garce behind her. Phoenyx didn’t flinch, even as it fell and was trampled, not as Keven fired too and the dust kicked up at her feet. She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. Just ran.

  Enika raced around behind them, unraveling a rope. As Phoenyx neared, she tied it off on a tree trunk and tossed the end of the cliff. “Phoenyx!” she screamed. “Come on!”

  Whether Phoenyx heard her or not, she gave no indication. Enika kept screaming and Cole and Keven fired round after round, doing everything they could to give her more time.

  Run, Phoenyx, run.

  She hit the cliff face and dove for the rope, leaping clear off the ground. Enika started pulling, and his tiny sister suddenly seemed to possess super human strength as she tugged Phoenyx up and over the side. The Garce sprang after her, but she was too high. Enika tugged her over the side, and Phoenyx collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath, stomach in the dirt because her arms wouldn’t hold her up.

  She was covered in blood.

  No wonder the Garce had gone after her like a rabid pack. They’d smelled the blood.

  Cole fell on his knees next to her, ripping her shirt open. There were gashes up and down the length of her back, bleeding freely. Not from the Garce, he didn’t think, but—

  “I tried—tried to wrap them—” she gasped.

  He had no idea what had happened, only that he’d found her, or rather, she’d found them. She was alive, and she’d come back to them.

  Chapter 12

  THEY’D GIVEN UP SLEEPING IN HOUSES because it was the first place the Pys looked now. Instead, they used alleys and dumpsters, hiding in plain sight. After they’d fixed Phoenyx up enough that she could move, they’d circled back toward the city where there were more
places to hide and fewer Garce. Keven had left to check on his own family, and Cole’s little group had found another, larger group to travel with.

  That had been three days ago.

  He dozed fitfully, keeping one eye on Phoenyx. They’d been worried about blood loss for a while, and then infection, but she seemed to be fighting everything off. As she did.

  A single, terrified scream tore the illusion of safety in the alley to pieces.

  “Run!”

  Cole jerked from the exhausted stupor he’d been in for the last several minutes. He scrambled to stand before his eyes were even fully open. “Phoenyx!” He grabbed her wrist, but she was already moving, springing from sleep to her feet.

  “Enika!” They both spun toward his sister, who somehow had managed to sleep through the chaos erupting from beyond the alley they thought would be safe. Enika stirred, her eyes fluttering, but Phoenyx had her by the hand, tugging her to her feet as they turned to escape.

  Everyone in the alley screamed and ran and cried, desperate to get away. They rounded the corner, Cole in the lead, without pausing to check first.

  It was a mistake.

  The alien — a Garce — waited in front of him, sucking light from everything around it, drool dripping from teeth glimmering in the shadows of its mouth. Cole spun, shoving Phoenyx and Enika back into the alley. “The other way! Go, go, go!”

  Phoenyx was already running, Enika on her heels.

  He whirled away from the girls and faced the alien, although it was more of a demon in his mind.

  It hissed, it’s red, glowing eyes the only color in an otherwise pitch-black body.

  Cole swallowed hard, risking a glance over his shoulder. Phoenyx had cleared the alley. Enika was just rounding the corner.

  Taking his eyes off the alien was stupid. He could feel the shadows pulling at the light around him as he spun toward it again, but too late. It launched itself through the air, jaws open in a horrific grin. He screamed, but the scream caught in his throat, trapped behind the terror that choked him.