The Rising (Darkness Rising 3)

I waited, tensed, hoping they'd decide Moreno was right. I was guessing the witch only detected one form because we were huddled together. I inched closer to Ash.

Footsteps started down the alley.

"Does anyone listen to me?" Moreno said.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Antone replied.

I leaped up. Ash started jogging toward the voices, his footfalls silent. I froze, panic filling me. But he only went a couple of meters, then turned around and ran at the wall.

I twisted, unsheathed my claws, and grabbed hold. As I scaled it, he took a running leap, grabbed the top and swung onto it with a gymnast's ease. Instead of going over, though, he crouched on the top, looking around. I scrambled up and perched awkwardly beside him.

On the other side of the fence was a tiny courtyard with a picnic table, a bicycle stand, and a tin half-filled with cigarette butts. A place for employees from a neighboring store to have a smoke and store their bikes. The only way out of there was a door into the shop. A solid metal door with no handle.

Ash wasn't looking at that, though. His gaze was turned upward, to a window on the building beside us.

"If we hide down there, she'll find us," he whispered. "We gotta go through the window. Can you make it?"

I nodded and cast an anxious glance at the alley. I could hear them coming slowly, checking behind every box and bin.

"I know," he whispered. "We need to move fast, especially since I have to bust that window to get in. They'll hear it."

I motioned for him to go. He jumped. He landed on the ledge easily enough, but it was only about ten centimeters of concrete, and he nearly lost his balance. He caught himself, turned his face away, and rammed his elbow into window, shattering the glass so expertly that I knew it wasn't his first break-in.

He looked back at me, still on the fence. I jerked my muzzle, telling him to go inside. He hesitated, but he didn't have a choice--I couldn't leap through with him blocking the hole. He quickly cleared the broken glass with his sleeve, then hopped down. It must have been a long jump because I heard him hit hard and let out an oomph. I listened for any sound of real pain. None came. When I was sure he was fine, I jumped off the fence--in the other direction.

As I tore down the alley, I thought I heard his voice. I flattened my ears and kept going. This was the only way. Otherwise, the moment they came around that corner, they'd know we were inside the shop and they'd surround the building. The witch only picked up one presence. If they saw me, they wouldn't go after him.

If I ran, he'd be safe. They'd never know he was there, and once I'd led them out of the alley, he could run. Maybe he'd try to find me afterward. Or maybe he'd finally realize the danger and decide it wasn't worth it--I wasn't worth it. I almost hoped he did, for his sake.

I whipped around the corner. I heard the witch cry out. I saw legs ahead of me, but I didn't look up, just kept running, ears down, eyes slitted, gaze fixed on the end of the alley. Get to the end. Barrel past them. Through them if I had to. Get to the road and let them chase me . . . while Ash escaped.

Antone leaped in front of me. I didn't look up to see his face, but his smell filled my nostrils. I hit him in the legs and he flipped up over my back. A dart whizzed past me. I hunkered lower, putting all my power into one last sprint. Behind me, I heard the witch say something. Words in another language. A spell? It didn't matter. I was almost to the street. Whatever she hit me with, however much it hurt, I'd just keep--

I stopped.

I just . . . stopped. My legs froze, like someone had disconnected the link to my brain. I skidded muzzle-first to the ground.

"Tranq her," the witch said. "I can't hold the binding spell for long."

My brain shouted orders. Jump up. Fight. Run. But my body just lay there, as if paralyzed, my eyes fixed open, staring at nothing. I felt a dart hit my flank. Then another. Antone said, "That's enough!" and the world went dark.

EIGHTEEN

I DREAMED I WAS sick with fever, my stomach cramping, sweat pouring off me. I was home in my own bed and Dad was sitting beside me, wiping my face with a cold cloth, saying nothing, just looking after me, as he'd done all of the rare times I was sick. Mom took care of me, too, but she did it by making soup and herbal tea and keeping my bedding fresh and dry and getting my m

edicine on time. She needed to keep busy. Dad was the one who'd just sit with me.

I wallowed in the dream even after I realized that's all it was. Slowly, though, I started waking and I felt the real burn of fever and the roil of nausea. Someone really was at my bedside, wiping my face. My first thought was "Daniel," and I opened my eyes, smiling, then saw Calvin Antone beside me. I scrambled back, hissing before I realized I was in human form. My stomach lurched and I retched. Antone grabbed a bowl from the floor and pushed it at me, but I shoved it away and sat up, clutching the sheets and looking around.

I was in a bed, dressed in a T-shirt and pajama pants. A man I didn't recognize stood just inside the door. He was wearing a suit, but he didn't look like security. He was too old, for one thing--at least fifty. And he held himself with an air that said he didn't take orders from anyone. He was tall--over six feet--with blond hair and bright blue eyes.

"Finally," he said. "Tell her I need her to answer some questions."

Antone glowered at him. "She speaks English."

"I'm sure she does. But she doesn't know me and I don't know her. I'm sure you can impress upon her the importance of answering."

"Is that a threat?" I said.