But I cannot hold them. Not with my hands behind me. She yanks my hands apart, trying to break the tape on my wrists, but it is too strong. Buck is still writhing on the floor. She has time. She drops to the ground and forces my bound hands beneath my bottom, and squirms and wriggles until the loop of my bound arms pops out from beneath me.
But the loop of my arms catches on the underside of my knees and I am helpless, even worse than before because now I cannot get up. My torso is clamped against my thighs, my head pressed to my knees. I cannot even see Buck in this position.
What are you doing? I scream at her from inside my head.
“Patience,” she chides me in my own voice. She sounds calm, unfazed. She is in control. My body is doing what she wants.
I can hear Buck groaning. I trying not to gasp or pant with effort as this might draw his attention. She falls on to my side. It seems to take an agonizingly long time for her to force first my feet and then my legs through the loop of my arms, but somehow she manages it. And now my bound hands are in front of me.
Buck sees what I am doing. She screams in rage, and snatches up the largest piece of firewood. It is jagged on the one end and thick like a club on the other. I am holding the thick end. As Buck rushes towards me, she rushes to meet him, using his momentum to drive the pointy end into his chest. But the wood is rotten. It snaps, drawing only a little of his blood. This enrages him.
He snatches the log from me and tries to bash me with it. She leaps out of reach and it catches only my cheek. He comes at me, and she dodges to the side. There is nowhere to go but towards the bed. She runs, and he chases me.
Cody is still squirming on the floor near the bed. She leaps to avoid tripping on his leg, but Buck does not see it. It catches his foot as he rushes at me. His momentum swings him forward, and his head bashes into the side of the bed.
She laughs. As he lies there, she snatches the log out of his hand and bashes him on the head with it over and over. The old wood is too light and fragile to knock him out, but it does enough to keep him down as she beats him.
“You squirming bastard,” she says. “How do you like me now?”
But she has forgotten about Cody. He is behind me. One hand is clenching the side of his bleeding throat, but his other hand seizes my hair and jerks it, bringing me flying back towards him. And that is all Buck needs to regain control.
He climbs on top of me, pinning me to the floor with his weight, and positioning himself so that my kicking legs have no effect. One hand on my throat keeps my head pinned to the ground, the other raises the club. Her screech of rage is useless. In that moment I know he is going to kill me with it. Storm’s face flashes in my mind. The only good thing I remember of this life.
It occurs to me that I could have chosen to live. I could have let them do whatever they liked to me, just so that I could see Storm again. But I am glad I chose her. She fought for me better than I ever had.
The club crashes into my head and she screams in pain. Her rage is a hot tide that surges through my entire body as she thrashes, refusing to give in. But she is trapped. She can’t get my body out from under him. As the club rises to bash my skull again, there is an almighty crash from across the cabin, and the door caves in.
Chapter 41
DIANA
It is like a scream of pure victory surges inside me as I see who is in the doorway. It is Storm, with Xander behind him. Storm has found me. He came for me. The sight of him is sheer joy. And just like that I have control of my body again.
Buck looks stunned at the sight of Storm. But he is full of hate, and his arm clenching the log is raised above my head. He brings it sweeping down, intending to cave my skull in. I see it coming at me from the corner of my eye as if time has slowed down. But my gaze is fixed on Storm, who is charging towards me and Buck. In the slowness of time it is like he is running through treacle.
Xander is following him into the room, and behind him is a stranger, a man I do not know, in the doorway. And my ears hear a boom that seems to stretch forever, and the stranger’s body jerks, and then another long boom and another, and the stranger jerks again. Shock on his face. Blood blossoms against his white shirt, spreading outwards like an unfurling rose. And his knees buckle, and he falls face downwards to the ground.
And then time seems to speed up again. And I see that Storm has snatched the log out of Buck’s hand and thrown it aside. He has grabbed Buck by the scruff of his neck and is dragging him off me. Behind them both, Xander has reacted to what has happened to the stranger. He is running out the door. Running towards Dr Carrington who is standing outside with a gun in his hands.
“No!” I scream, knowing he will be shot.
But Xander keeps going, and Dr Carrington keeps shooting. Straight into Xander’s chest. Even as Xander reaches for the gun, Dr Carrington fires again. Xander’s outstretched arm snatches the gun and throws it aside.
“Xander!” I scream. His bulletproof magic did not work. He is on his knees.
Storm hears the desperation in my voice. Storm is crouched over Buck, and is bashing Buck’s skull repeatedly against the wooden floor. Seeing the look on my face, and then seeing the stranger lying motionless near the door, Storm drops Buck.
“Leo!” he says. He runs to the stranger. Drags him inside the cabin, out of the line of fire.
Storm sees what is happening outside. Assesses the greater danger. He races outside, towards where Xander is kneeling on the ground, clutching his chest, and where Dr Carrington is scrabbling on his hands and knees and desperately searching among the undergrowth for his gun.
Storm grabs Dr Carrington by his ponytail and jerks him up off his hands and knees. But Dr Carrington has found the gun. It is in his hands. I scream a futile warning as Dr Carrington fires. The bullet hits. A fine spray of blood flies from Storm’s neck. I scream again.
And yet Storm does not go crashing to the ground. Storm has his forearms wrapped tightly around the sides of Dr Carrington’s head. He gives one swift jerk. I do not hear the snap. Dr Carrington’s body goes stiff and then limp. The gun drops from his hands onto the ground.
And then there is a shriek like the cry of a banshee. A slender redheaded form races out from the trees. It is so dark outside now that it takes me a moment to recognize it as Lila. She was hiding, waiting. She did not listen to Dr Carrington. She did not leave.
“You killed him!” she screams.
She comes so fast that she is almost a blur. She throws herself bodily onto Storm before he can turn in her direction. Her momentum catches him full in the back and he crashes to his knees. She straddles him, her legs around his torso, her arm wrapped around his muscular neck. I expect him to throw her off. She is slender, and he is bigger and stronger.
But he does not throw her off. He barely moves. His arm rises as if to try to push her away, and then it drops back down to the ground. She is not strangling him. She is draining his life energy. Fast. She is going to kill him. It is what I saw in my vision.
Quiet, the little voice hisses before I can scream. She is seething in dissatisfaction, angry at being trapped inside my mind again.
I stifle my urge to scream. I must be quiet. I get up from where I was sprawled, bruised and battered on the floor. Buck and Cody who are curled up nearby, whimpering. I stumble more than run out of the cabin towards Lila. I reach her. I seize her by her long hair. I throw my body weight backwards, dragging her away from Storm.
Her body comes flying towards me. Her hands lose contact with Storm’s bare neck. She sees it is me who has got her and she snarls. She grasps my bare arm. I think she is trying to free her hair, but as soon as she touches me I lose control of my limbs. They feel sluggish and heavy. I cannot move.
“You thought I left, bitch?” she snarls. “You thought I would leave him alone with you?”
Pull away! the little voice screams inside my head.
But I cannot do it. A sensation boils inside me like all of my blood is rushing towards the point of
my body where she is touching me.
My knees buckle from under me, but I barely notice as I crash onto the ground. All I am aware of is that point where her hand is touching my skin. That delicious point where all of my life’s energy is flowing and pouring out of me. But I don’t mind because it feels so good. In exchange for my energy she is giving me a sensation of pure exhilaration. It is like a surging singing narcotic in my veins. I want it. I want this.
“I will kill you,” Lila snarls. “You took him from me!”
But her words sound so far away, and so unimportant. I stare up past the canopy of trees and at the night sky. The stars are twinkling. They are magical. My vision is darkening. I feel my consciousness beginning to slip away. I am going to die in this moment of bliss, and it is just so beautiful. A perfect death.
And then comes the boom of a gunshot, and Lila lets go of me.
“No!” I cry out as her delicious touch drops away from my body. But almost as soon as she lets go, I regain my senses. I had almost gone willingly to my death. Lila is still standing over me, but her eyes have gone blank. Her expression is of mild shock, as if she had not expected this. And then she topples over. There is a bullet hole in the back of her head.
Chapter 42
DIANA
I look to where the shot came from. Storm is sprawled next to Dr Carrington’s body. The gun is in his hands. He and I stare at each other for a long moment. Everything else seems to fade away. He is the one that I had run from earlier tonight. My hunter. He was hunting me. And somehow he found me. He has saved my life. I should be dead.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He seems to hear me. He nods. But his eyes are glazed over and unfocused. His holds holding the gun are shaking. He drops it. Then he passes out.
“Storm!” I cry out, rushing to my feet. The world seems to lurch sharply and then tilt as I crash back to the ground. A sweet darkness seems to be washing over my vision, calling for me to sleep. My body needs to sleep. It needs to heal.
Get inside, she whispers in my head. To the warmth.
“No,” I whisper, trying to crawl towards Storm. I cannot pass out. Storm needs my help. Xander and the stranger Leo need my help. They’ve been shot. They are dying.
You are dying, she hisses.
“No!” I whisper again, trying to use the sound of my own voice as a source of strength to get up.
I need to get to Storm. To get his phone and make a call for help and then I can pass out. My body is trembling as if from shock. Somehow I manage to crawl to him. His skin is cool to the touch but I can see he is breathing. I search his pockets to find his phone, which is difficult with my wrists bound together. I manage to pull it out of his hip pocket and press the power button. The phone is locked. I dial the emergency call function. Nothing happens. There is no network coverage. Roaring in frustration, I dash the phone aside.
If you die, I die, she says. She sounds angry.
So help me, I tell her in my mind. Help me please. I am too tired to say the words out loud.
I get to my knees, swaying with the effort. “Storm, Storm,” I whisper, using his name to focus so that I don’t pass out. He is shivering now. I need to get him inside the cabin.
Use the blade in his pocket to cut yourself free, she whispers. I felt it when you got his phone.
She is right. I find a multi-purpose tool in there. It has a blade. I grip it with my teeth and slash at the tape around my wrists, feeling the slipperiness of blood when I cut myself.
When I am free, I grab Storm’s arms and somehow I drag him. He is a dead weight. It seems impossible that I will manage to get him into the cabin, and yet I do, almost collapsing in relief once I am inside. I am shaking as I prop him up next to his buddy Leo who, to my great relief is still breathing.
I notice Buck and Cody are gone. Where to I don’t know. I don’t care. I am glad. I sag against the door frame to steady myself.
You’re done, she insists. You’ve got the one you care about. Even her voice sounds faint, like she is fading as I am fading.
“One more,” I whisper. “One more. Help me. Please!”
I go outside for Xander. I stumble to where he lies collapsed on the ground. I push him over until his face is upwards. His chest is rising and falling ever so slightly. He is breathing. I burst into exhausted tears of relief. He is cold. So cold. In shock probably. I try to drag him by his arms but he is so heavy and I am too weak. I am sobbing.
Do it, she snarls.
And I feel a difference inside me. I feel the force of her will. When I drag him, this time he moves. It is as if she is helping me. Even so, it is a monumental effort to drag him into the cabin. I am so tired now that every time the bumpy ground jerks us to a stop I drop him and fall over. Each time, she and I get back up and grit our teeth and scream with effort as we drag him. A few more steps. A few more steps. Then we are inside and I lay him down next to the other men.
They are all inside now — it is an utter relief. I stand over them, staring down blankly. I foresaw their deaths. I have to do more to save them, or they will die like Ms Celeste. But my mind is fogging up. I am so tired. I need to bandage their wounds. My hands shake as I reach for Storm. My body is so heavy, my limbs are so tired. The urge to sleep and heal is overwhelming.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, but I feel it coming like a surging tide. I cannot stop it. I sink softly down to my knees next to the men. The last thing I am aware of is a dull deep ache in my abdomen that is almost sweet. I must save you, I think as I fall into the darkness.
Chapter 43
DIANA
I awake sometime in the early hours of the morning, feeling oddly alert. The birds are tweeting outside. The rough floorboards beneath me are hard and cold, but I am lying next to something reassuringly warm and comforting and I do not want to move. And then I remember the events of last night.
Gasping, I quickly sit upright. I am alive. We are alive! The comforting something next to me is Storm’s body. My fingers fly to his neck, feeling for a pulse, even as I see that he is breathing. His big body warm is relaxed and at ease. He is sleeping. Never-the-less I press my fingers against his skin until I feel the strong, reassuring beat of his heart.
On his neck, where the gash left by the bullet should have been, there is a pink scar. Freshly healed. I frown at it. How can this be?
You healed them, she says in my head. Your navelstone did it. I felt it.
Her voice is loud, clear as my own voice in my head. In the cold light of day it is uncomfortable to have her there. I want to tell her she is wrong. That my navelstone has never done that before, but I can feel a deep ache in my navel that I have never had before.
I check Xander who is on my other side. He is also deep in sleep, his shirt a mess of dried blood. I touch his chest tentatively over the blood-stained bullet hole in the cloth. Beneath the fabric I feel something hard and small. I unfasten the top few buttons to see, and a small metal lump falls away. A bullet. It has come up out of his chest, leaving behind a round pink scar. I gasp at the sight.
There is only one hole though Xander had been shot multiple times. I touch the magical metal band around his wrist. Its bulletproof magic must have stopped most of the bullets from getting in. I quickly check Leo, and find that he too has a single healed bullet hole scar. Under his shirtsleeves he is wearing similar magical bands to Xander’s.
He’s law enforcement, she says. He’s required to wear them. Your boy Storm will have them too.
Storm is stirring. He rubs his eyes and then sees me kneeling next to Leo. He takes in the scene, the blood stained shirts on both other men, and he sits up frowning.
“What are you doing?”
He sees the bullet scar on Leo’s chest and seems confused. “How did you…?” He touches the side of his own neck, his fingers running over his own freshly healed scar. “What happened?”
“I dragged you in here last night. You were both freezing out there.”
By now Xand
er is awake. He is examining his bullet scar. “Damn bracelets let one in. What did you do to us?”
“Nothing,” I protest.
Xander is examining the bullet he found on the floor, trying to read the fine sigil markings on the twisted up metal. He slips it into his breast pocket.
He looks at me with his eyes narrowed. He pats the pockets of his jacket and scowls. “Those bullets should have killed us. You used my healing potion. It was damn rare stuff.”
I gape at him. What healing potion? And yet it is the perfect cover. He probably left it at home.
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