Андреа Кремер - Nightshade

Bosque began to laugh and waved his arms as though conducting a symphony. The chorus of moans grew louder.

“Don’t look at the Fallen!” the first Searcher shouted. “Our target is all that matters!”

“Monroe! The boy is over here!” A man bolted from the other side of the room toward us. I recognized him instantly, even without blood gushing from his nose.

I bared my teeth as he raised his crossbow.

“No talking this time,” Ethan said.

I shifted forms, launching myself at him, but my breath came whistling back out as a pair of crossbow bolts buried in my chest. The force of my leap sent

Ethan and me tumbling over each other across the floor. I smashed into the far wall. Pain rocketed up my spine. I could feel blood running over my stomach as I fought to remain conscious.

“Calla!” Shay hurled himself at us, shifting in midair. Ethan swore, twisting away from Shay’s snapping jaws.

“Monroe, Connor! Get over here now! They’ve turned the Scion,” Ethan yelled, and another string of curses erupted from his throat.

A blurred figure sped across the room, weaving through the chaos of wings, claws, and weapons. I saw Connor fling his body across the floor, rolling just out of reach of the slithering shape of a wraith. He leapt to his feet and bolted toward Shay, who snarled when Connor drew his swords. He held the blades low, wolf and Searcher stalking in a slow circle facing each other.

“I don’t want to hurt you, kid, but we don’t have time for this.”

I watched them struggle through a haze of pain. My breath sounded wet each time I sucked in air. Despite the spike of pain I tried to drag myself toward them.

While Shay’s eyes tracked Connor, Ethan struggled to his feet. His hand dipped inside his leather duster and he threw himself onto the wolf’s back.

Shay yelped when the Searcher plunged a syringe into his neck. Shay bucked, snarling, and Ethan flew back onto the stone floor. The wolf pivoted, muscles bunched to leap at Ethan, but abruptly shook his head. His limbs shuddered and he whimpered, swaying on his feet and collapsing onto the floor.

He didn’t move again.

I howled, struggling across the floor to his side. Each step was agony. The crossbow bolts still protruded from my chest. The blood in my lungs was slowly drowning me.

When I reached him, I shifted forms, buried my hands in his fur, and shook his shoulders.

“Shay! Shay!” Even as I clung to him, I could feel strength ebbing from my limbs.

“Enchanted bolts; hope you’re enjoying the ride.” Ethan’s gravel-rough voice drew my eyes to the side. He had the crossbow trained on me once more.

“Are you the one who turned him?”

My chest was on fire, my vision blurred. I nodded and slumped to the floor, rolling alongside Shay. So this is how I die? I reached for his hand.

Ethan’s finger tightened on the trigger. A long moan from behind me pulled his eyes away. He gasped, stumbling back. “Kyle?”

I twisted my neck. Through a haze of pain I saw the corpse-like Searcher who’d emerged from one of the paintings ambling toward us, his arms grasping mindlessly at the air in front of him.

“No!” Ethan started toward the lurching body.

The Searcher who had been shouting orders loomed over me, blocking Ethan’s view of the moaning creature.

“Get out of the way, Monroe,” Ethan said. “I have to help him.”

“He’s not your brother, Ethan.” Monroe gripped the other man’s arms. “That isn’t Kyle. Not anymore. Forget him.”

I heard a choked sob as Ethan’s shoulders crumpled.

“We need to get out of here,” Monroe said. “Stay at Connor’s back in the retreat.”

Ethan’s face was tight with grief, but he nodded. “On it.”

“Now, Connor,” Monroe said. “Hurry.”

Connor crouched beside Shay, gathering the wolf in his arms.

I cried out when Shay’s fingers were wrenched from mine.

“Got him,” Connor said. “Let’s go.”

“After you.” Ethan lifted his crossbow.

Connor raced across the room with Ethan at his side, firing bolts as they ran. Monroe turned to follow.

“Wait,” I whispered hoarsely.

He looked down at me and frowned. “Who are you?”

“I’m trying to help Shay.”

“You made him like you? A Guardian?”

“I had to.” The room began to fade in and out.

“Did the Keepers make you turn him?”

“No.” I winced, closing my eyes against the pain. “They didn’t know.”

One of his eyebrows shot up. “You defied the Keepers?”

I nodded. My body convulsed and I coughed up blood.

There was a long moan and the slow scrape of feet along the stone floor grew louder. I wondered how close the creature that had been Kyle was . . . and how strong it might be.

Monroe’s gaze flitted behind me. His brow knit and his eyes fell on me again, watching me struggle to sit up.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said, raising his sword, and brought the hilt down on my skull.

A lightning strike of pain seared through me before I sank into darkness.

THIRTY-FIVE

I LIVED IN THE SPACE BETWEEN THE CONSCIOUS and the unconscious. Brief flashes of light and sound occasionally pierced the veil that smothered my senses. I felt movement, but not any I made on my own. My limbs were numb. Arms, legs, torso all felt heavy; painless, but waterlogged and beyond my control.

Was I dragged or carried? I couldn’t be sure. I was only vaguely aware of my body being lifted, jerked, passed from one pair of arms to another. Was this actually happening? I felt warm, drowsy. My eyelids were like lead curtains.

“I hear we’ve bagged an alpha.”

Voices. Rough speech that belonged to strangers, enemies. Words that made no sense.

“Corinne’s son? Monroe must be relieved.”

“No. It’s a female.”

“That’s a shame. We’re not keeping her around, are we?”

“Not sure. I think Monroe’s weighing our options.”

Someone gripped my hand and I heard the voice of a friend.

“It’s going to be okay, Calla. I swear I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Shay, get over here,” a gruff but strangely familiar voice ordered. “I’ve asked you not to speak with her.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“I think you’ll find I’m very reasonable, but you haven’t earned my trust yet.”

“Is that what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“You’d be the wiser for it.”

The world came rushing back, strange sights and scents swirling around me. I was lying on my back, and there was a dull ache in my chest. My eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light. Something cold with sharp edges clamped around my left wrist. A sudden heavy weight brought my arm down hard against my body and my eyes squeezed shut again. I winced at the tenderness in my rib cage.

“Ethan, stay close to Connor in case she wakes up,” Monroe said.

“Why are you doing this?” Shay said. “You don’t need to. She isn’t your enemy. Not anymore.”

“Sure, kid.” Ethan laughed coldly. “Whatever you say.”

“Hand me the other one, Ethan,” Connor said.

The same cold grip seized my right wrist and pressure pinned my arm against my torso.

“That should do it,” Connor said.

“You said she’d be okay,” Shay growled. “You promised.”

“And I’ll keep that promise,” Monroe said. “She hasn’t been harmed.”

“She looks okay to me,” Ethan added. “What do you think, Connor?”

“I think she’s kind of cute,” Connor replied.

A snarl and a scuffling sound reached my ears.

“Whoa! Hang on there, kid. Lucky you ducked, Connor, I think that’s the same left hook that broke my nose last round,” Ethan said. “You got him, Monroe?”