The Exiled

by Frost Kay

  A scream pierced her ears, and it took a second to figure out it was her own. Marco and the burly man converged on Noah before the smoke swallowed them up again. Her gaze once more strayed to the door. They needed help, but it wouldn’t come soon enough.

  Hazel cursed and made a split-second decision, a hysterical laugh bubbling from her throat. What was a few moments more? Things couldn’t get much worse.

  Well, death, there was always death.

  The smoke undulated as she ripped the bow off the dead Tainted and tore an arrow from his abandoned quiver. She didn’t look too closely at the gaping hole in his chest as she nocked the arrow and waited, fire spreading along the floor, eating up whatever was in its path. Thankfully, it was just a potato storage, not hay or wheat. There wasn’t much to burn.

  Goosebumps broke out across her skin as Marco’s unhinged laugh rang through the building, bouncing off the metal walls.

  The smoke cleared, giving her a clear view of Marco sliding down the hill of nightshades, his expression one of triumph as Noah struggled to his feet, his right wing hanging at an odd angle and two bodies strewn about the floor.

  She inhaled and put Marco in her sights, then slowly released the breath along with the arrow. It went wide.

  “Damn,” she growled, grabbing another arrow as the loose shot caught the attention of a burly man who resembled a bear standing to the right of Noah. He released a roar, and Hazel snatched up the quiver before frantically climbing the mountain of potatoes at her back.

  High ground was what she needed.

  “You’re mine now!”

  She scrambled up ten feet and nocked another arrow, twisting around as the burly man started up after her. It would have to do. Hazel wavered as the potatoes shifted beneath her weight. Panic clawed its way into her chest as the man lunged for her and she released the arrow. Her mouth gaped as the man flinched. His gaze dropped to the deeply embedded arrow in his chest and then to her face. Bile burned her throat. She’d shot him. In the heart.

  Silent words tumbled from his mouth before he convulsed. Her stomach shriveled as the light faded from his eyes, and she sat down hard, potatoes tumbling around her.

  She’d killed a man.

  A living, sentient being.

  Gone. Because of her.

  Smoke stung her eyes, and tears dripped down her cheeks. What had she done? This was why her family didn’t want her to go outside the walls of Harbor. They didn’t want her to experience this. Her lungs burned, pulling her from the downward spiral. It was time to get out. Fires rarely killed anyone. It was the smoke inhalation.

  She scanned the murky storeroom and locked in on the Tainted who’d started it all. Marco kicked Noah in the gut and laughed.

  “You’re so weak. Our community will perish under you. Don’t you see our enemies are gathering? It won’t be long until they strike. How will you protect them if you can’t even protect yourself?” Marco screamed.

  A calmness settled over Hazel as she drew her last arrow and nocked it back. Only those who were weak preyed on the innocent. It took strength to show compassion, to show empathy. That was a lesson monsters like Marco and Aaron would never understand.

  The smoke cleared, and she released her last arrow.

  It struck true.

  Marco screamed and clutched at his thigh. He didn’t deserve death, and she certainly wouldn’t have his blood on her hands. He wildly scanned the room and snarled when he spotted her.

  “You will pay,” he spat, limping toward the door.

  Oh no, he didn’t. Hazel flung herself forward, rolling down the potato pile. Her feet had barely touched the ground before she was running. Her whole body protested the movement, but she forced herself onward passed the four bodies of his fallen minions. It was only when she spied the true extent of the wounds to Noah’s wings and torso that she skidded to a stop.

  Pain-filled onyx eyes clashed with hers. “Get him,” he gritted out.

  Hazel hesitated for a second before taking off after the creep. She shuffled—hopped—only twenty feet when she hunched over, gasping for air. Too much pain. There was no way she could catch Marco at that pace. And she couldn’t leave Noah in the building. He’d die.

  With a groan, she limped back into the building, her arm pressed over her mouth and nose as she made her way back to the monster. Hazel paused when he snarled at her, death and rage still riding him hard. She held up her hands.

  “It’s me, Hazel. I’m going to help you. Please don’t rip my head off.”

  Noah locked on to her with onyx eyes and didn’t blink as she approached him slowly.

  “Nice, monster,” she whispered.

  He slowly blinked.

  “Be a good monster,” she crooned, terrified as she reached a hand toward his shoulder. Would he rip her arm off? “I’m on your side.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” he rasped.

  Thank goodness. “Saving your ass,” she retorted, trying to work past the adrenaline. Hazel eyed his wings. How was she going to get him out? “Can you stand?”

  “I think so.”

  Hazel moved behind him and squatted, her ribs protesting the movement as she slid her hands beneath his armpits. This was going to hurt so bad.

  “On the count of three. One, two, three!”

  Her legs and arms strained as she fought to get Noah to his feet. He groaned and swayed but managed to get unsteadily to his feet. Hazel slung herself under his left wing and wrapped her right arm behind his back. He threw his left arm over her shoulder and leaned against her. Hazel puffed out her cheeks as they staggered to the door, the smoke burning her eyes and lungs.

  “God, you’re heavy,” she grunted. “With wings, I thought you’d be hollow-boned or something.”

  Noah slurred something back and began coughing. Alarm spread through Hazel when more blood seeped from his wounds with each cough. He swayed, and Hazel braced for the both of them and propelled them out the door on unsteady legs. Clean, cool night air surrounded them.

  “We made it,” she gasped, taking two more staggering steps. “Just a little further—”

  She squeaked when Noah tipped to the side and collapsed. His weight crashed into her, taking them both to the ground. Her chin slammed into the ground, and her teeth cracked together. She wheezed. Hazel moaned, not able to move. Good lord, that hurt.

  “Get off of me,” she gasped, the pain becoming intolerable.

  No response.

  “Noah?” She coughed, her chest heaving. “Move a little?”

  Nothing.

  “Noah,” she said a little louder.

  Still nothing.

  Hazel painfully wiggled onto her back and sucked in a short, sharp breath. Most of Noah’s body was draped over her, along with his left arm and wing. His face hung off the side of her torso and pressed against her breast.

  Despite the pain, she was conscious enough to blush.

  How awkward, not to mention gross and alarming.

  Her brows furrowed as she took stock of her body. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises covered her from head to toe from what she could see. Warm liquid seeped onto her belly, and her eyes widened.

  Blood.

  Horrified, she gaped in terror at her blood-soaked shirt and the open cuts along her belly.

  No.

  She didn’t not survive everything she’d gone through to die from the virus.

  Her hands shook as she tried to figure out where to put them on Noah to get leverage without hurting him further.

  This is your life. Move now.

  Pulse roaring in her ears, Hazel gritted her teeth. Every moment she was touching him was another second she was exposed to the virus. She needed to get out from underneath his heavy ass. Now.

  She wiggled to the side, cursing and hissing from the pain. Hazel stiffened when the man lying on top of her nuzzled the side of her chest. Hazel’s eyes widened and she slapped the back of Noah’s head as a reflex.

  Pure instinct.

 
; He didn’t move.

  And she’d slapped a wounded unconscious man.

  “Okay, big boy,” she groaned, “We need to get help. Now’s not the time for cuddling.”

  With some creative wiggling and a lot of pain, she managed to get out from underneath the mammoth Tainted. Hazel scooted back on her butt and clutched her ribs, lightheaded, panting, and nauseous. Noah lay face-down, his legs and wings haphazardly strewn across the earth. He looked like a broken doll.

  Her skin crawled as the blood cooled on her belly in the night breeze. She tore it away from her skin and wiped away what she could before focusing on Noah once again.

  Hazel crawled closer to him and turned his head into a more comfortable position. She didn’t dare touch his crooked right wing that oozed dark blood. They needed help.

  “Help!” she croaked, her throat raw from the smoke.

  No one came.

  “Help!” she screamed and then began to cough. Where was everyone?

  She hiccupped back a sob at the thought of getting up to find help. She hurt so badly. Her gaze moved from the smoking outbuilding back to the broken man. He was only hurt because he had been defending her.

  “You’re such a bastard,” she cried, clambering to her shaking legs. “Don’t you dare die while I’m getting help.”

  He said nothing, and she turned for Abuela’s house. Every shuffling step hurt. Hazel stumbled and almost ate dirt at the edge of the farm but caught herself. If she went down now, there was no getting up. Tears flowed down her cheeks when she spotted the little terracotta home.

  “Abuela!” Hazel yelled. “Help.”

  The door wrenched open, and the old woman burst out onto the porch. Horror morphed Abuela’s worried face, and she lifted her skirts and ran toward the fence faster than Hazel had ever seen the old woman move.

  “Niña, what’s happened?” she demanded and practically yanked the gate off the half-fence, the metal shrieking.

  Hazel limped faster, crying harder as she tried to get the story out. “Monster.” Another sob. “Fire.” A cough. “Noah’s hurt.”

  Abuela pulled Hazel into a quick hug and pulled back, scanning her face. “How badly are you hurt?”

  “I’m okay,” she hiccupped. “But Noah. He’s… he’s hurt.”

  “Where, niña? Where?”

  “The potato outbuilding. I got him out, but he’s bleeding. And his wing… I didn’t know what to do!”

  “You did the right thing, mi hija. Go inside and lock the door,” Abuela commanded, already on the move.

  “I can help you!” Hazel shouted.

  “Inside!” the old woman yelled. “And take off the bloody clothes!”

  Hazel watched her disappear into the dark and cried harder as she dragged herself into the house and locked the door, then collapsed on her cot. Tears leaked down her cheeks.

  What if she wasn’t fast enough?

  She bolted upward and yelled as agony slammed into her. A hand touched her arm and Hazel cringed away, disoriented. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was flames licking at her skin.

  “It’s okay, mi hija. It was just a bad dream.” The rim of a cup touched her lips. “Just a few sips.”

  Hazel shook her head as she blinked wildly in an attempt to clear her vision.

  “Don’t be stubborn. It will help with the pain. I will force it down your throat if I need to.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled through cracked, swollen lips. The rim of the cup pressed against her bottom lip, and warm liquid flowed into her mouth. She swallowed a few times and then lay down again, her head fuzzy.

  “Noah?” she slurred, feeling like death warmed over.

  “He’s going to be okay.” A hand touched her forehead and then brushed through her hair.

  “I’m sorry,” Hazel muttered.

  “For what?”

  “For being Untouched.” A tear leaked out from the corner of her eye. “If I’d been like you, none of this would have happened.”

  “Oh, my sweet, brave girl.” A kiss brushed her brow. “You did more than enough. If it hadn’t been for you, another of my loves would have passed from this earth. You did good, niña.”

  She licked her lips. “Am I… am I sick?”

  “No. A miracle, but you’re not sick. Sleep now. I’ll keep you safe while you heal.”

  Hazel nodded and let sleep take her once again.

  She didn’t see or feel the old woman take her hand and weep.

  “I will miss you,” Abuela whispered.

  Sixteen

  Hazel

  Hazel felt like crap.

  By some miracle, she hadn’t broken one bone, but her entire body was one large bruise covered in cuts and scrapes. It had been four days since the attack, and the old woman had hardly left her alone. She buzzed around the little cottage and cared for Hazel better than her own papa any time she’d become ill.

  “How are you feeling?” Abuela asked for the hundredth time.

  “Better. My face still hurts when I smile, but it’s nothing I can’t live with,” she rasped. Her throat was still raw from the smoke, but the nightmares were even worse than the physical pain. More than twice a night, she’d woken up crying, her lungs screaming for air. She glanced at the darkened window. The sun hadn’t risen yet, which was the real shame. Trauma was a real wench.

  “The paste has helped some. It’s not so purple today and the scratch on your cheek has closed up.”

  She snorted, a sharp ache shooting around her face. “Is it turning a lovely shade of green?”

  “I wouldn’t call it lovely,” the old woman hedged.

  Hazel scooted until her back rested against the wall and her legs hung off the cot. Abuela bustled around the counter, putting all sorts of dried fruit, meat, and foodstuffs into a sack for some lucky person. The woman knew how to cook. Hazel had managed to put on some weight living with the old woman. If the witch didn’t work her so hard, she’d probably grow fat.

  “Who do you want me to take that to?” Hazel asked, desperately hoping to escape the confines of the cottage. There was only so much time she could take being stuck indoors.

  The old woman froze and slowly placed the sack on the counter. “I’ve always prided myself on doing what is right, niña.” She faced Hazel, her expression grave. “My own desires blinded me to what was most important.”

  “We’re all human—with or without claws, feathers, or scales,” Hazel teased. “It’s okay to make mistakes and to be selfish occasionally.”

  Abuela sighed and shuffled to the cot, a groan escaping her as she sat next to Hazel. “Mi hija, what you did for my grandson is nothing short of a miracle.”

  “Anyone would have done the same.”

  “No.” She shook her head and placed a finger over Hazel’s lips for a brief moment. “You could have walked away or escaped. But you didn’t. You walked into a burning building and dragged him out.”

  Uncomfortable, Hazel shifted, the blankets on her lap rustling. “That’s exaggerating. The building wasn’t burning, I mean, there was a fire, but—”

  “Hush and listen. Our family has always lived by a code of honor. You saved Noah’s life, and so, I shall free you.”

  “Free me?” Her heart galloped in her chest. “From my indenture?”

  “No, I will help you leave this place and return to your people.”

  She gasped. It couldn’t be true. “You’re not toying with me?”

  “When have you ever known me to play with you? I have a debt to repay, and even if it weren’t for that, in good conscience, I could not keep you here.”

  “Thank you.” Hazel flung her arms around the old woman. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me. When do I leave?”

  “Now.”

  Stiffening, she pulled back and met Abuela’s serious gaze. “Why so soon?”

  “You and Noah are the only ones who can tell us what happened that night. I believe you, as do others, but four were found
dead, Marco is missing, and the Blooded heir is unconscious.”

  A chill ran down her spine. “So, I’m being blamed for the deaths, the fire, and Noah’s injuries. Do you know how insane that sounds? I’m only one person. How in the world would I be able to pull something like that off?”

  “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I believe you.” Abuela smiled sadly. “But people fear what they don’t know. Our peoples have been killing each other for years. I had hoped you would help bridge the rift between our kinds, but now is not the time.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling guilty that she couldn’t be what the old woman wanted. “Can I say goodbye to Matt?” Even though she hadn’t seen him in days, and she was so angry at him still, it didn’t sit right with her to just sneak off.

  “There’s no time. I’m sorry, but we need to leave before the sun is up.”

  So soon. “Are they coming for me?”

  “After daybreak.”

  The air whooshed from her lungs, and Hazel bent over, a million questions running through her mind. How would they escape? How far was home? Could she survive in her condition? What about predators? What would her family say? Now that leaving was an option, she was terrified.

  Hazel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Find your grit.

  She’d survived sexual assault, being tossed from a jeep, lobos hunting her, a broken arm and ribs, being poisoned, kidnapped, imprisoned, an auction, slave labor, two physical attacks, and she had escaped a burning building. What could be harder than that?

  “I have grit,” she whispered.

  “Yes, you do. And heart.”

  Tears flooded her eyes. “I’m scared.”

  “That’s what will keep you alive. I believe in you, Hazel.” Abuela’s hand slid over her knee and squeezed. “Get up, mi hija. We don’t have much time.”

  Hazel needn’t have had any worries. She should have known the old woman had everything ready, from camouflaged protective clothing and weapons to foodstuffs and medicine. Nothing had been overlooked.

  She wiggled her toes in the worn boots and shouldered the bow Abuela had pulled out from under her mattress, then cast a worried glance at the window. The sun hadn’t come up yet, but it was close.