Without Mercy (Mercy 1)

Too late.

Bam!

A steel-shod hoof crashed into her back.

Crrraaack!

Bone splintered. Beneath her jacket, skin ripped away from flesh.

Pain, hot as fire, tore down her spine.

Maeve howled and tried again to thrust herself over the gate. She surged forward, but her legs gave way, crumpling beneath her. Her arms clung to the gate as flames crawled over her, engulfed her. “Help me,” she begged, her throat raw, tears streaming down her face. “Please, please … Oh, God!”

But her tormentor only smiled.

The panicked horse ran in circles, trying to escape. He lunged forward, another hoof grazing her shoulder.

The pain … It was all too much. Her world started to go black.

Maeve slid down the gate, her weight dragging her into the flames. Sheer terror streaked through her. “You’ve got to help me, please!” But her voice was just a dry whisper.

“Why not?”

What? Her attacker had experienced a change of heart?

The latch clicked and the gate opened.

Maeve dropped like a stone to the floor. Maybe now, oh, God, please, she was going to be helped.

Omen shrieked again.

He bolted for the open gate.

She braced herself.

Omen soared, trying to leap over Maeve. His body scraped one side of the stall.

Bam! A heavy, deadly hoof caught her head.

Maeve hit the floor. Pain exploded behind her eyes. For a second, everything went black, only to come back in clear, sharp focus.

Instinctively, she tried to get up.

Nothing happened.

Her legs wouldn’t move, not an inch.

Paralyzed? She was paralyzed?

No, oh … no …

She tried to turn to see her tormentor, but couldn’t; the smoke was too thick. She felt herself being lifted by her shoulders. A moan tore from her throat. It felt as if she were being ripped in two.

“Call someone,” she said, her mind fuzzy. Was her attacker really trying to save her? “An ambulance …”

“Shut up!” The voice was guttural, feral, as she was dragged past the stalls of frightened, terrorized horses.

Through pain-glazed eyes, Maeve looked down the aisle. She was being dragged away from the fiery stall, and through the smoke, at the far end of the stable, the black horse was pacing, quivering, pawing at the big door to the rear.