Jennifer Lynn Barnes Anthology

by Barnes, Jennifer Lynn

  “If we don’t go with you, you’ll die, and a hundred thousand things that are supposed to happen—things that you could do—will die, too.”

  I wanted to ask her how I could do anything, how one genetic freak of a girl could be of any importance at all, but before I could, Skylar switched from psychic proclamations to good old-fashioned logic. “Evidence has a way of disappearing when it implicates powerful people, Kali. You’re evidence, and they’ve already tried to kill you once. They’re obviously going to try again.”

  “As much as it pains me to admit this,” Bethany interjected, “Skylar’s right. One dead teenager in the middle of nowhere is easy enough to explain. Four dead teenagers, two of whom have a brother in the FBI? That gets tricky no matter who the CEO is bribing, blackmailing, or sleeping with.”

  In Bethany-ese, I took that to mean something along the line of “there’s safety in numbers.”

  And maybe that would have been true—if there was any safety to be had. Glancing out over the dirt-dry land to the building in the distance, I got the feeling that there wasn’t.

  The sign in front of this complex might as well have been labeled POINT OF NO RETURN.

  “I’m bulletproof.” I countered Bethany’s logic with fact. “You guys aren’t. Worst-case scenario, they catch me. Worst-case scenario, you die.”

  I saw my words hit home with Elliot. Bethany pursed her lips. Sensing the chink in their armor, I turned the full force of my gaze on Skylar.

  “You either let the bad things happen,” she said softly. “Or you don’t.”

  Her eyes shone—with certainty or tears, I wasn’t sure which. “Everybody has choices. This is mine.”

  And then, before any of the rest of us could sort out the exact meaning of her words, she turned on her heels and ran.

  Right through the gate.

  I caught up with Skylar quickly enough, but by the time I did, the gate that had separated the premises from the rest of the desert had clamped shut behind us.

  Someone knew we were here.

  “Stay behind me,” I hissed. She melted into my back. The sound of footsteps told me that Elliot and Bethany weren’t far behind. For better or worse now, the four of us were in this together—at least until I could find a way to get the three of them out.

  “We get in, we get Zev, and we get out,” I said, revising my earlier plan. Reducing this facility to ashes and dust would have to wait. I had more to think about now than just Zev.

  “It’s a search and rescue,” Skylar said, nodding. “Got it. My brother Charlie is in the marines.”

  Of course he was. One of these days, Skylar and Elliot were going to run out of brothers. It was only a matter of time.

  “Kali,” Bethany said, her voice a ghost of a whisper, lost to the desert night. “We have visitors.”

  I expected to see the men in suits, or, worse, Rena, but instead, I saw eight pairs of blood-red eyes, glowing with hunger.

  Hellhounds. Again.

  “Seriously,” I said. “These things are not endangered.”

  Automatically, my mind started playing out ways this fight could go. I was faster and stronger than I’d been two days earlier, but there were eight of them this time. Three adults, five juveniles—all bigger, heavier, and uglier than me.

  “Stay back,” I told the others, keeping my voice low and praying that Skylar wouldn’t get any more crazy ideas and that Beth wouldn’t feel compelled to give a repeat belly-dancing performance.

  I continued eyeing the beasts. “No sudden movements.”

  I’d bled enough in these clothes that if given the choice, the hellhounds would probably go for me and not my friends, but probably wasn’t good enough—not when there was anyone’s life at stake but my own.

  “Stay back,” I said again as I wracked my mind, trying to find a way that this didn’t end in human bloodshed. “I can handle this.”

  Take out the adults first, Zev advised darkly. Then go for the pups.

  Beside me, Skylar brandished her Mace. Bethany appeared to be holding a gun. As best I could tell, Elliot seemed to have come to this fight armed only with a pair of lawn shears.

  This could not possibly end well.

  Your humans are very strange, Zev said, as if that were the primary issue here. I could feel the hunt-lust rising in his body, the same as in mine.

  Yeah, I replied, the world around me going very quiet and very still. They are.

  A second before the largest male made its move, I made mine, flinging the knife in my hand and listening for the satisfying thunk it made as it tore through flesh and hit bone, knocking my target back and off its feet.

  The remaining hellhounds growled and began circling. I kept my body between the others and the monsters, willing those beady red eyes to follow my movements, mark my scent.

  The one I’d felled made a high-pitched gargling sound, and it stirred something inside of me.

  Thirsty.

  Now.

  I leapt the moment I heard Zev’s whisper, but this time, as my body collided with a hellhound’s, I wasn’t the one who went flying backward.

  It did.

  Its teeth tore into my flesh. My knife tore into its. The smell of sulfur and blood propelled me onward, as familiar and comforting as towels straight out of the dryer. Sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, I skewered the hound on top of me and was rewarded by its mate trying to detach my head from my body.

  Behind me, one of the pups launched itself at Elliot. Skylar maced it.

  I’d barely registered that fact before the beast I was fighting reared up, sending its massive skull directly into my chin. My head snapped back. I tasted blood in my mouth, but somehow, my dagger found its way to the beast’s eye.

  That was when I lost myself to the moment, the weapons, the fight. There was a rhythm to it, unbreakable and swift. I felt like I was dancing. It rained blood.

  As I dispatched the one I’d stabbed in the eye, the largest juvenile—nearly full-grown—came at me from behind, snapping its massive jaw and nearly bisecting me at the waist. But I was too fast for it, and it only got a piece.

  A tiny piece.

  I thrust my sword arm backward, catching another one of the beasts straight through its heart. Black-red blood bubbled to the surface, but the sound of a human scream kept me from taking it—any of it—for myself.

  Bethany.

  I whirled around, expecting to see her impaled on razor-sharp teeth, but instead, I saw her staring in horror at Skylar. She was lying on the ground—very still. She was bleeding.

  One, two, three, four.

  I couldn’t remember how many I’d killed. However many it was, it wasn’t enough. Elliot had managed to jam his shears back into the throat of the smallest pup, but it was still growling. I leapt for Skylar, but one of the remaining hounds took a swipe at my legs.

  Inhuman rage bubbled up inside of me. In the bat of an eyelash, I had the beast’s head—as broad as a truck tire—in my hands. I pressed them together, my muscles tensing to the point that I thought they might snap, the beast’s bones cracking under the onslaught.

  I met its eyes, and then, I tightened my grip and twisted.

  A moment later, I flung its limp body to the side like a rag doll and eyed the remaining hellhounds.

  There were two left—just two. They must have seen it in my eyes—the hunger, the rage—because they ran. With their tails between their legs, they lumbered off into the distance. I wanted to follow, but I didn’t. I made my way back to Skylar instead.

  Her head was lying to one side. She was pale, bleeding, deathly still, and I froze.

  I’d known she was holding something back—about tonight, about this place, about coming here, helping me. Her eyes shining, she’d told me that this was her choice.

  No, I thought. Oh, God. No.

  I knelt next to her and felt for a pulse.

  “Are they gone?” she asked, opening one eye.

  Relief—bittersweet and warm—sur
ged through my body, and I jerked my hand away from her neck. “You’re okay?”

  “I got clawed a little,” she said. “Playing dead seemed like a really good idea at the time.”

  “Playing dead?” Elliot repeated, and I saw in his eyes that he’d bought her act as much as I had. From the moment I’d seen her lying there, I’d been sure that the worst had happened, that I’d killed her by not being fast enough, strong enough, smart enough.

  “I’m fine,” Skylar said. “And even if I wasn’t—I chose this. I knew what it was going to be like, and it was my choice to make. Deal.”

  For a corpse, she was starting to get pretty mouthy.

  “Come on,” I said, wishing more than ever that I could send them back. “Let’s go.”

  We moved forward, step by careful step, me on point and the others bringing up the rear. The world was silent, absolutely silent all around us, until I heard Skylar whisper a single word into the back of my head.

  “Duck.”

  One word. Just one whispered word—but I did it. I fell to a crouching position the second before some kind of spear came whizzing by my head, close enough that I could feel the breeze it left in its wake. Close enough that if I hadn’t ducked, it would have taken off my head.

  I should have heard it coming. I should have smelled it: meat and day-old blood and something sickly sweet. Without thinking, I grabbed hold of the closest hellhound body. I dug my fingers into its hide and pulled, ripping off a chunk of flesh.

  In one smooth motion, I stood, brandishing the hide as a shield.

  “Okay, now that is disgusting,” Bethany said.

  I didn’t reply. I was too busy waiting for the next shot—and tracing its trajectory back to the thing that had shot it.

  I could see it in the distance, guarding the entrance to the building. It took me a moment to place it. Tail of a scorpion, body of a lion, three rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  “Is that a manticore?” Skylar said. “Aren’t they extinct?”

  Apparently not. Of all the creatures in the preternatural world, this one most resembled the kind of hybrids that Chimera was trying to build. It looked like a dozen different creatures, sewn together by the devil’s seamstress. I catalogued its weapons: the teeth, the tail, the poisonous spines. A niggling sensation told me that I was forgetting—something that I’d read in a book.

  Its voice, Zev said. Knowledge flooded my body—memories that weren’t mine, fights that my body hadn’t taken part in.

  Lions roared. Harpies screamed. And manticores—with their human mouths and shark teeth—did something else, something unbearable and ungodly.

  I processed the facts, but not fast enough, and the manticore’s cry reached my ears. It was like someone was taking a chain saw to my eardrums, making mincemeat of my brain. For the first time ever in this form, I felt something that resembled pain.

  Blood poured out of my ears.

  The others went down beside me, hands clasped over their ears, writhing in pain. I felt the warmth of blood on my face, trickling out of my nose, as the beast fired—one spine after another digging into my makeshift shield.

  Skylar shoved something into my hands—the saw blade—and without thinking, I threw it. It cut through the air, a ring of silver light in the darkness.

  I saw the moment it made contact. There was another scream and then silence—just the sound of a heavy object dropping down onto sand.

  The manticore’s head.

  “I thought that would come in handy,” Skylar said, satisfaction lacing her tone.

  She’d already saved my life once here tonight, when she’d told me to duck. Whether or not her choice of weapon had made a difference in this kill, she’d already made good on her word that having them there would make the difference between life and death for me.

  “I’m glad,” Skylar said fiercely. “I’d do it again.”

  Sometimes, I thought, sparing a smile for my small blonde friend, crazy’s all you’ve got.

  “Come on,” I said, ready to put this night behind us. “Let’s get this done.”

  We managed to close the space between us and the building without straying from the path. The tracker in me could see the places where wheels and feet had tread before—safe places, in this rotting minefield.

  Or at least, as safe as any place inside these gates could be.

  How does the government not know about this place? I wondered. The simplest answer was probably that they did—or that they’d chosen not to. I consciously sidestepped that thought as we came up to the door. I was on the verge of kicking it in when it opened, and I found myself inches away from the one kind of adversary about whom my instincts had absolutely nothing to say.

  Humans.

  Even in the dim light of the evening, I recognized Rena’s lackeys from the school, and they recognized me. The fact that I was walking around when they’d left me for dead on the side of the road seemed like the kind of thing their type would take as an insult, but their faces remained completely impassive.

  They didn’t draw their weapons.

  They didn’t say a word.

  They just waited.

  That was when I noticed the light glow to the air.

  “Fireflies,” Skylar said, thoroughly bewitched.

  Not fireflies, I thought.

  “Don’t look at it,” I ordered. Skylar smiled and tilted her head to the side. She walked right past me. I grabbed for her arm, but she pulled out of my grasp, following the tiny ball of light.

  Beside me, I could feel Elliot and Bethany going slack, the tension melting out of their bodies as they took in the tiny dancing lights.

  “They won’t remember a thing tomorrow,” one of the men in front of me commented. “Where they were, what happened … all they’ll remember are the lights.”

  I cast my eyes downward, trying not to look directly at them myself.

  Will-o’-the-wisps weren’t deadly. They didn’t feed on human flesh. They just confused people, led them off the path, made them feel like everything was all right, when it was anything but.

  Even with my eyes cast downward, I could see Skylar tiptoeing farther and farther away.

  “Skylar,” I said sharply, lifting my eyes to hers.

  She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Pretty.”

  I could feel the magic working its way into my system, but I shook it off.

  I wasn’t safe.

  These lights weren’t pretty.

  I shouldn’t follow them.…

  “Well,” one of the men said. “Aren’t you going to help your friend?”

  Turning your back on an enemy was always a mistake. Always. But Skylar was getting farther and farther away. Making a split-second decision, I turned and was halfway to her, my body blurring with inhuman speed, when one of the men I’d left behind drew his gun.

  He took aim and fired.

  Not at me.

  Not at Skylar.

  At her feet. I was fast, but the bullet was faster. It hit the dirt. I ran toward Skylar, ran toward her with everything I had, but my mind was still gummy from the will-o’-the-wisps, and the man in the suit had known exactly where to aim.

  Undetonated mines.

  I heard the explosion before I saw it. Flames lit up the night sky, and the force of it sent me flying backward—away from Skylar.

  From what was left of her.

  As I lay there on the ground, the smell of charred flesh told me that this time, Skylar wasn’t—couldn’t—be playing. Tears stung my eyes until the only thing I could see was the memory of her face the second before the mine detonated, the expression on her childlike features.

  Bliss.

  “Lay down your weapons, come with us, and no one else has to die.” The man’s voice was soulless and calm, as he aimed his gun at Elliot and Beth, and that was when I realized—

  They’d killed Skylar to make a point. To make me malleable. To hurt me.

  No.

  Rage was a physical thin
g. It washed over my body until I was drowning in it, bubbled up from inside of me, like a volcano ready to explode. Inside and outside, hot and cold, it was everywhere, absolute.

  I breathed it in, and I breathed it out. I swallowed the full force of it whole, because the alternative was giving into something else, that tiny voice in the back of my head that said that Skylar was …

  No.

  I tore my eyes away from the body that didn’t even look like her, not anymore, and I gave myself over to fury.

  Blessed fury.

  My eyes narrowed into slits. My fingers curled to claws. The man who’d killed Skylar must have sensed the danger, because he turned his gun from Bethany and Elliot to me.

  I was on him in an instant.

  He went down, hard, and his gun clattered down the hallway like a rock skipping across water. I could have snapped his neck like a twig, a Popsicle stick, a toothpick.

  But I didn’t.

  I straddled his body and backhanded him. I felt the crack of his cheekbone. I smelled his blood.

  Beside us, his partner attempted to jab me with some sort of Taser. I reached back, grabbed him by the wrist and snapped it, angling the weapon back at his chest, his torso.

  I smelled the scent of his charring flesh.

  The second that Partner Guy went down, the lights in the air dissipated. Whatever I’d become, whatever I was on the verge of doing, even the will-o’-the-wisps seemed to know that now was the time to run.

  I moved to toss the Taser to the side, but noticed a variety of controls across the bottom. Mechanically, I pressed each button. A blade popped out of the back end of the Taser. An alarm sounded.

  And then, finally, the gate to the complex opened in the distance.

  “Don’t—,” the man underneath me—still breathing, still alive, the way Skylar wouldn’t ever be again—said. “You’ll let them out.”

  “You killed her,” I said, pinning him with my knees. “She never hurt anyone, and you killed her, just because you could.” I looked him in the eye and dug my needle-sharp thumbnails into the balls of his shoulders, tearing through flesh until I hit bone.

  He screamed.

  “You killed her dead.”

  The voice that said those words didn’t sound like my voice. It sounded old and angry, nearly feral.