Lucas sprinted towards her letting out a yell of his own. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl in the shorts spin around, see him and throw herself towards him, but at the last moment she faltered, spun, turned away from him and launched herself at someone else. Lucas kept moving towards Flic, only conscious that there was someone else in the fight but with no time to figure out who.
Lucas launched himself at the one stalking his sister – the one in the suit – his blade hacking through the stone hard flesh of the Original’s shoulder. The Original paused, glanced over his shoulder at the tear in his suit and then, with a furious bellow, swung his fist at Lucas.
Lucas darted out of range, but the thing was on him instantly – a blur, teeth sharp as hypodermic needles smashing and gnashing in his face, driving him backwards. Lucas stumbled and the thing launched himself at him - a tonne weight, as heavy as a marble statue crashing down on top of him. In the split second before he was crushed beneath it, Lucas rolled, drawing his blade in a wide arc above him, feeling it slide through flesh.
The thing paused for just a moment, a hand pressed to its neck, buying Lucas enough time to scoot backwards out of reach. But then it was on him again, stalking towards him across the lawn. Lucas kicked his way backwards, willing himself to time things right. He would have only one shot.
The thing stopped, looming over him and Lucas forced himself to hold steady, to not panic. But then the thing suddenly pitched forward and a waterfall of cold blood cascaded over Lucas, drenching him from head to toe.
He was on his feet in the next instant, gripping the hilt of his blade in both hands, ignoring the blood dripping into his eyes and mouth. He spun and with one blow slashed his knife across the Original’s throat.
The severed head rolled halfway across the lawn even as the body sagged in a heap to the ground.
Lucas leapt over the body and started sprinting towards Flic. His brain registered that someone else was fighting alongside her at just the same moment that he saw a flash of pink flying at him.
The one in shorts came at him from nowhere – blindsiding him. Lucas barely managed to somersault out of the way before she was on him again, snarling and panting. The two of them circled each other warily, her gaze falling to his blood-slicked blade then to the body of her friend lying headless on the lawn. She showed barely a trace of emotion. She didn’t look much older than twenty, though Lucas knew he shouldn’t let that fool him. She had a good thousand years on him.
There was only one way to play this, Lucas thought. He stopped circling and tilted his head to the side, exposing the length of his neck, feeling his pulse jerking frantically beneath the skin.
It worked. The Original’s focus snapped straight to his neck. Her lips parted, her gaze clouded over and she lunged, coming at him with the speed of a freight train. Lucas waited until the split second before she was on him before he brought his hand up, holding the blade in his fist like a dagger. She hurled herself onto him. Lucas staggered backwards under her weight, feeling his blade pierce the granite-hard surface of her skin before sliding slick and smooth into her heart.
She gave out a small gasp of surprise, and then looked down at the hilt of the knife embedded in her chest. She collapsed to the ground, her hands tugging at the blade, trying to pull it free. Lucas drove his boot into her chest, pinning her to the ground and yanked the blade out. With his spare hand he reached for the paraffin in his bag, pulling off the lid with his teeth and dousing the girl even as she struggled beneath his boot. She spluttered and screamed as he sprayed the rest of the contents across the lawn, tossing the bottle towards the body of the other Original.
Then he took off, running, throwing his lighter over his shoulder and watching the blue flame ripple out with a whoosh, igniting the girl in a ball of shrieking flame, before snaking across the grass, sending great black clouds of smoke into the air.
Lucas dodged the wall of flame and dived towards Flic.
Chapter 36
A scream from the street made Evie freeze. She was halfway up the tree, scrambling up to see what it was Selena had seen on the other side of the wall. But at the sound of the scream her attention flew back to the street.
‘RJ,’ Selena whispered from the branch above before jumping to the mulchy ground and instantly breaking into a sprint.
Evie caught up with her, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her backwards into the undergrowth.
‘No,’ she hissed, ‘it could be a trap.’
Something didn’t feel right.
And just then the howling wail of sirens suddenly cut off with an almighty screech of brakes followed by the rip of metal and smashing glass. From the other side of the wall, Evie could now hear the roar of flames and someone – or something – shrieking. Oh please, dear god, don’t let it be any of them, was all she could think.
She turned back in the direction of the house, fighting every instinct in her body to go and join the fight. She needed to make a decision. If she was on her own she wouldn’t be standing here, she’d be over the wall already. But she had Selena with her, and RJ might be in trouble, and for good or bad she couldn’t just leave them, no matter how tempting it might be.
‘What did you see? What was on the other side of the wall?’ she demanded, shaking Selena by the shoulders. ‘Did you see Cyrus?’
Selena shook her head, mute, the whites of her eyes gleaming in the darkness of the undergrowth. The fear on her face was enough to make Evie’s own stomach clench into knots. Gone was the tough girl with attitude and in her place a scared child, looking to Evie for help. She couldn’t just leave her there.
‘Damn,’ Evie swore. She hauled Selena to standing. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
She would drag her somewhere safe and then go back to help the others. They hadn’t gone two yards though when a foot suddenly crunched through a pile of leaves close by them. They froze, Selena gripping her hand so tight Evie felt the bones crunch.
She ignored the pain shooting up her arm and focused her senses on that one area, twenty metres or so to their right. Something was stalking them.
‘Run!’ she hissed, pushing Selena away from whoever was approaching.
For a split second Selena stood there like a rabbit caught in headlights before she started running blindly, jumping over roots and bouncing off trees.
Evie darted out from the cover of the trees and onto the lawn, making herself a visible target, yelling, calling attention to herself, praying it gave Selena enough time to get away.
It worked. Evie blinked and suddenly it appeared. Right in front of her. An Original. Male. Over six feet tall, wearing jeans, a crisp white shirt and a pair of deck shoes – an outfit that seemed so incongruous with what it was that Evie blinked, trying to clear her head. It was only the red stain spattered across the shirt that gave her a reality check.
Her stomach turned somersaults. Her pulse spiked, announcing itself like a siren call. She started backing away, towards the house, in the opposite direction to the way Selena had run. She couldn’t run herself. It would take her down in a split second, in a heartbeat. She cast a quick glance over its shoulder.
Where were the others? Were they even alive any more? She couldn’t feel them, couldn’t feel anything but this raging fear blocking out everything.
The Original strolled slowly towards her, pausing to pick some yellow gristle out of his teeth before advancing some more.
‘So it’s true, then,’ he said in a voice that reverberated like a gong inside her skull. ‘The White Light lives.’ He tipped his head and smiled. ‘At least for a few more seconds.’
Evie held her blade out in front of her trying not to let it shake. Suddenly it seemed as ineffective as a toothpick.
The Original paused for a nanosecond, smiling in amusement at the sight, before he began circling her in light steps as if the two of them were dancing a waltz.
‘Did you come here to try again?’ he asked.
His voice swirled like fog, confu
sing her. She struggled to make sense of the words. What did he mean, try again?
All of a sudden she heard Lucas in her head, his voice, low and calm, ordering her to stop retreating and start attacking. Her hand immediately stopped shaking, her breathing steadied. Without pausing she lunged, feinting right, and rolling to her left, coming up under the Original’s arm, her blade slicing the air as he dodged the strike.
Don’t lose the advantage. Surprise him again. It was Lucas talking in her head and his voice was so good to hear, so real, that she obeyed without thinking, darting forward, aiming straight for the heart. The Original was surprised once more, but still managed to sidestep her attack.
‘That the best you can do?’ she asked, growing in confidence.
His lips curled into a grimace. And this time he came at her. Fast. A blur. Evie threw herself to the ground, rolling onto her side. He went sailing past. She was on her feet spinning around trying to see him in the next second but he’d vanished. She spun the other way. And something metallic closed around her neck, gripping vice-tight.
Evie choked, fear and panic igniting every cell of her body. Her toes scraped the ground as she was lifted by the throat, and her vision began to cloud.
Fight back! she heard Lucas yell.
Dots danced in front of her eyes and then, without warning, just as she was starting to lose all sensation in her body, an arrow of pain shot down her neck and acid flushed through her veins. She was on fire from the inside out, black flames licking around her, devouring every cell, every muscle, every nerve. Somewhere in the dark someone was screaming – a terrible, ricocheting noise that spiralled through her skull like a drill.
It was her, she realised – she was the one screaming. The sound terrified her but then it cut off abruptly and blood rushed into her mouth. He was draining her. She was going to die here, in this garden, without having killed Victor, without having got her revenge.
Fight back goddamn it! Don’t give up. It was Lucas, his voice a whisper pushing through the enclosing gloom.
With one final effort she squeezed her fingers together, tightening them around the slippery hilt of the blade. She brought her arm up, feeling the weight of the shadow blade, no longer light as air but heavy as steel. And then, with a final gargled yell, she slashed with all that remained of her strength.
The pain eased in her neck. She fell backwards into soft velvet darkness.
Get up.
She couldn’t get up. She couldn’t move. She tried to roll onto her front – tasted dirt mingling with blood. Her fingers sank into earth. She tried to push herself onto her knees, but she was moving so slowly and her head felt as if it had liquid sloshing around in it. She opened her eyes. The world was upside down. She was kneeling on cloud, But then she realised she was lying on her side and there was a thumping noise all around her, coming from beneath her, as though the earth itself was a giant drum. Only, the rhythm was slowing.
A boot appeared. A man’s boot, right in front of her face. She twisted her head and squinted up at the figure silhouetted above her, smiling. It was Lucas.
But then he moved and the sunlight fell on him and she saw it wasn’t Lucas at all. It was the Original. He was holding one hand to his shoulder and she could see the red seeping through the cotton of his shirt and between his fingers. She’d done that. She grinned, biting back the wave of pain and dizziness that followed.
He drew back his lips, stretching them over his blood-spattered fangs and Evie squeezed her eyes shut and felt the trickle of a tear slide down her cheek.
A blood-curdling yell made her eyes flash open.
The Original was staggering backwards away from her. And then he was on his knees and she watched – the drumbeat getting fainter in her ears – as he burst into a ball of orange and blue flame, the heat scoring her face. From behind him, as though he was walking through the fire, Victor appeared.
He dropped to his knees by her side and pressed his fingers roughly against her neck. Evie rolled her head, trying to get away from him, trying to shout, but it came out as a hissing, gargling sound. She tried to raise herself onto her elbows, gritting her teeth at the sliver of pain that shot down her neck.
Victor pressed her back to the ground. He was prodding at her, saying something, but she couldn’t make out the words over the whooshing, thundering noise in her head.
She heard shouting in the distance and suddenly Cyrus was beside her and he was yelling at Victor to back off, to get the hell away from her and she felt such relief. And then Victor was gone.
Arms were cradling her instead, she was being pulled gently upright, fingers were stroking back her hair, tracing along her jaw, and her ear was pressed against another drum, this one louder and faster.
‘Evie, Evie,’ Cyrus was saying over and over, each cry like a slap.
She blinked and tried to focus.
‘Can you hold on?’ Cyrus was asking.
She made some kind of noise. And then she felt herself being lifted, and she was weightless and her head was banging against Cyrus’s chest as he ran, but his arms were holding her steady and she knew she was safe.
Her eyes were half-closed, she was feeling drowsy, and then, just for an instant, in the trees at the side of the house she thought she saw Lucas, standing there, watching her, his grey eyes haunted and on fire.
She lifted her arm to try to wave, but he had vanished.
Chapter 37
White. White walls. White sky. White coats. Whiteness everywhere. And a cold so deep and crushing she thought she might be buried beneath snow.
A jolt of pain in her arm. Then shooting fire tracing spirals down her neck.
Evie fought to keep her eyes open, struggling to turn her head, but it seemed to weigh five thousand pounds. Where was he? Where was Lucas? Someone had hold of her right hand, was stroking the palm. It felt good. She worried that if whoever it was let go the cold might sneak up on her and make her fall again into darkness, and she didn’t want that to happen. She wanted to stay awake. She wanted to see Lucas again. He was here. He was real. He was alive.
Wasn’t he?
Her fingers tightened around the hand. She couldn’t let it go. Voices were shouting over her, people were running, her shirt was being ripped off and she felt hard, cold metal pressed against her bare skin and shivered some more.
Through the noise and shouting she made out a familiar voice.
‘Please, help her.’
It was Cyrus but his voice was broken, husky, desperate sounding.
‘What happened? What’s your name?’ Someone was asking him a question.
‘Forget my name,’ he yelled. ‘Do something for her, she’s losing blood. Do something!’
‘What happened?’ a doctor or a nurse – someone in white – was asking. Their faces were all out of focus.
‘It’s another neck wound,’ a woman said, loud in her ear.
Another, the word registered somewhere in the depths of her mind.
‘She had an accident,’ she heard Cyrus say.
Hands forcing their way under her, pressing into the small of her back and then she was lifted, shunted, dropped down onto another bed, this one softer. A mask was put over her face.
‘5mg Valium,’ someone said.
No, no, no drugs. She couldn’t afford to be drugged. She twisted her head and tried to bat away the hands in front of her. Someone grabbed her arm and forced it to the bed. She heard Cyrus shushing her. Then she felt a sting in her hand. A few seconds later the room ebbed away as if she was being pulled out to sea on a current. The voices that had been shouting now sounded a mile away; she felt like she was floating on the waves, drifting off.
A man’s voice cut through the daze. ‘Can you come this way, sir?’
‘No,’ she heard Cyrus say roughly. ‘I’m staying with her.’
She tried to grasp for him. He couldn’t leave her. She didn’t want to be alone. Someone forced her back down, pushing her shoulders onto the bed. A machine ri
ght by her ear was beeping faster and faster.
‘Who are you? Are you a relation?’
Please let him stay.
‘No,’ he hesitated, ‘I’m – I’m her boyfriend.’
‘Only relatives are allowed any further I’m afraid.’
‘Please. I need to be with her.’
‘Sorry, you need to wait here. Do you have a number for her parents? Someone we could call?’
She was being jolted around. The bed was moving. She tried to turn her head but she was paralysed and then his fingers were torn from her hand and she was back on the waves.
NO, she tried to scream but no sound came out.
Doors banged, a breeze stirred the thin cotton gown they’d thrown over her. She was cold. And she was alone. And she was afraid. And then she was gone.
Some time later she tried to open her eyes but it felt like they’d been sewn shut. She could hear someone groaning nearby. Then it stopped all of a sudden. Had it been her?
It’s OK, it’s OK.
It was his voice again. It was Lucas. She forced her eyes open. She was in an empty room. There was a faint beep beep beep somewhere by her head and the light was bright – dazzlingly bright. Her breathing was so loud in her ears it sounded like surf crashing onto a beach. She tried to move her hand so that she could pull at the oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose, but a warm hand closed over her own and pushed it back down to the bed.
Shhh.
She turned her head. She wanted to see him. She could feel the sob building in her chest. She could actually feel his fingers stroking her cheek, pushing back a strand of hair, lingering on the tip of her torn ear. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt him press his thumb against one. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Lucas is dead.
And she was still alive. That’s what the beeping meant.
It couldn’t be him in the room, stroking her hair. It had to be Cyrus. The Valium had made her foggy. She was seeing things, confusing things. They must have let Cyrus back into the room. How much time had passed?
Shadowed (Fated) Page 17
