Broken (Otherworld 6)

Hull laughed. "That would be rather coincidental, wouldn't it? No, they aren't for that--though, thanks to you, I may have found the final rare ingredient I need. This, however, is a simple matter of economics. Had I ever considered the possibility of arriving here, a hundred years late, in another time, another country, I would have made financial arrangements. No matter. Providence interceded, and I arrived to find a woman pregnant with full-blooded werewolf twins. Some things never change, and such babes would be a sorcery ingredient of untold potency, as rare as the mythical unicorn's horn. On the black market? Priceless. One alone would be enough to keep me in great comfort."

"If one would be enough..." Jeremy said.

I stiffened, but he met my gaze, reminding me he was only stalling.

"In t

he mood to negotiate now, Mr. Danvers? That's the spirit. Perhaps--"

The bushes exploded behind Jeremy. Hull jumped, startled. I hit the knife away from my stomach, but the blade caught the back of my hand, slicing it open. As I dove to grab the falling knife, Hull kicked my legs from under me. I fell, twisting to protect my stomach.

Hull's hands sailed up, knocking Jeremy back with a spell, then Nick, as he burst through the bushes behind Jeremy. Intent on Nick, Hull didn't see Antonio slip from the woods on the other side.

As I scrambled up, Antonio leapt at Hull, and they went down. Another crash in the forest, and I glimpsed something that made my gut go cold.

The bowler-hatted zombie burst from the woods, Rose lurching behind him, cutting Nick and Jeremy off from Hull, Antonio and me. Hull cast a spell. Something like an electrical bolt hit Antonio, and he fell, gasping. I started for him, then saw the knife, just inches from my hand. I stretched to grab it, but it flew out of my reach, sailing back toward Hull, propelled by some spell.

I struggled to my feet, my hand throbbing, my ankle blazing as if I'd twisted it. I stumbled forward, nearly blind with dizziness. Had I hit my head? I couldn't remember. Couldn't worry about that. Not now. Had to get--

A familiar jab in my belly, and I went still. Hull grabbed the back of my shirt.

"Walk," he said.

When I resisted, the knife dug in. I walked then, letting him push me as I tripped and staggered, my ankle giving way with every step, the world around me swaying and dimming, threatening to go black, the sounds of struggle fading as we moved deeper into the woods.

"You ought to have accepted my offer," Hull said. "Had the operation gone smoothly, surely there would have been more babes to come."

I tried to growl, but only managed a rasp.

"Perhaps you still held out hope for escape. It would have done you no good. Your blood opened my portal. As long as you live, I can find you, wherever you hide. You carry the treasure of a lifetime in your belly. I would have tracked you to the south pole if I had to."

As I trudged in silence, I struggled to think of a plan, but my brain kept shorting out, throwing up images of Clay prone on the ground, Antonio falling back, hit by God-knew-what, Jeremy and Nick fighting off the zombies...

Hull kept talking. Rambling in a happy monologue, so pleased with himself. After a moment, I could hear the sound of distant traffic. Then an odd rhythmic thumping. A train? No, running paws, beating against hard ground. Who could Change that quickly?

The answer came even as the dark blur flew from the undergrowth beside us. I twisted, putting every bit of energy I had into getting away from that knife. The tip of it scratched along the side of my belly. Then the knife flew up as Jeremy caught Hull's arm in his teeth.

Hull cast a spell, snarling the words. But nothing happened. Jeremy swung Hull around. As the sorcerer flew off his feet, he cast again, flicking his fingers. A simple knockback spell, but it worked. Jeremy lost his grip on Hull's arm.

As Jeremy stumbled back, I clumsily dove to protect him. We both hit the ground. I turned to see Hull's back disappearing into the forest.

Jeremy went after him, but a moment later the squeal of tires and horns told me Hull had reached the road. Jeremy couldn't follow him there.

I paused for just a second, then raced back to Clay.

I remember that headlong rush as a blur, tree branches whipping my face, vines grabbing my feet. Nick and Tolliver were crouched beside Clay. His eyes were still closed.

A cold nose pressed my palm, as Jeremy moved up beside me. As I swayed, I reached for him, my fingers deep in the fur around his neck, grabbing him for balance as my knees gave way and everything went dark.

If

ON THE TRIP BACK, I CAUGHT SNATCHES OF CONVERSATION. I struggled to follow it, only to hear the words that would let me fall back to sleep. At last they came: Clay was alive. Still unconscious, and burning up with fever, but alive.

I drifted back to sleep.

When I awoke, my first thought was that I was in a hospital bed. The sheets were cool and crisp, the air around me equally cold, blinds drawn, lights out, room blanketed in the eerie hush reserved for those who are recovering or dying, the only sounds the whir of the air-conditioning fan. The only thing lacking was the stink of disinfectant and overcooked food.

As I roused myself, I dimly heard Jeremy's voice in the next room, urgent and frustrated. I jumped up. My whole body screamed in protest and I froze, hovering there. Had I been hurt? No. There was a cut on my hand, but the protest was from pure exhaustion, my body having tasted rest and screaming for more. I started sinking back into the covers--