Haunted (Otherworld 5)

I cast my light-ball. This time it held, as dim as an almost-dead flashlight, but steady enough that I could see by. And, yes, as Dachev tore after me, I knew the light-ball was giving him a beacon to follow, but I couldn't worry about that. Stumble around in the dark forest and I'd be dead the moment the others arrived with their torches.

I managed to stay ahead of Dachev, but not easily. Nor did I put any more distance between us. I was barefoot, with one injured thigh and one injured calf. It was only determination that kept me running at all. Determination and the knowledge that if I stopped running, I'd hurt a hell of a lot worse than I did right now.

A noise sounded ahead of me. Shit! Had someone circled around? The noise wafted through the night air. A low mumbling. Oh, goddamn it! The caveman. He had made it past that boulder. In my headlong rush to escape Dachev, I'd taken the clearest path I'd found--and that path had been the clearest because I'd cleared it earlier. I'd retraced my steps right back to that goddamned cave. Of all the idiotic things I'd done tonight, this topped them all.

No, wait. Maybe not so stupid. Maybe damned clever...if unintentionally so. It was a risk. A big one. And if I failed--Don't think of that. Concentrate on the moment.

I pinpointed the cave monster's location. Off to my left. Then I veered toward it.

A few moments later, I could make out his shuffling shape against the trees. His face flashed, pale against the blackness as he looked up, seeing my light. Then he saw me. His eyes lit up and he lumbered forward.

I cast the binding spell. He kept moving. I started to swerve. Then he stopped, frozen in place. I balled up all my courage and ran right past him, so close that the rotting meat smell of him filled my nostrils.

I tore past and listened. From behind me came a gasp. Then an oath and the sound of feet skidding in the dirt, trying to stop.

I broke the binding spell. The cave man roared. Dachev screamed. And I kept running. As for what happened next--didn't know, didn't care. If Dachev suffered the same fate as that thing in the cave, well, I'm sure none of his victims would have judged the punishment too harsh.

I kept running until I found myself in the village. Seemed the safest place to be, if everyone else was out in the forest looking for me. I'd just hide out here and--

A knife flew from the darkness and buried itself between my ribs. As I doubled over, I saw knife-man step from the shadows. He smiled and lifted another blade. I yanked the first one out and spun out of the way. Or at least I tried to spin, but ended up more stumbling in a half-circle, legs ready to give way, fresh pain now slicing through my torso. I managed to avoid the knife throw, though, and that was all that mattered.

Knife-man ran at me. As I recovered my balance, another man ran toward the road--Asian, about my age, short and muscular, with modern clothes. Shit! How many were there?

Knife-man whacked a fist into the side of my rib cage. I stumbled, then caught myself and whirled around, blade in my hand. The knife hit him in the shoulder. His eyes widened. As he fell back, my first thought was "Hmmm, didn't think I hit him that hard." Then another blade flashed in the moonlight. A sword, slicing up, as knife-man fell back, screaming.

I followed the sword to the hand of the newcomer.

He met my gaze, and brandished a wide smile. "Katsuo."

"Oh, thank God," I murmured. "Please tell me you have hellsbane potion."

He laughed. "For two."

At a noise from the end of the road, we both turned to see four shapes running at us.

"And not a moment too soon, it seems," Katsuo said. "Catch."

He tossed the vial. I caught it just as knife-man struggled to his feet. I kicked him back, then uncapped my vial. Both bird-man and the werewolf rushed me from opposite sides.

"Sorry, guys," I said. "Gotta run."

I dumped the potion into my mouth.

46

I LANDED BACK IN THAT LITTLE ROOM WITH THE DOOR that led to the killers' hell. Trsiel was there waiting for me. I knew he'd been worried, and he'd want to know what had happened, but I wasn't ready for that yet. I brushed past him with a murmured "I got it." He tried to follow, telling me I needed healing, but I hurried down the hall to another room. When I opened the door, Kristof was there, right where I'd left him.

For a moment, I just stood in the doorway, legs trembling, ready to give way under me. Kristof crossed the room in two long strides, scooped me up, and gave me a fierce hug. Then he closed the door behind us, carried me across the room, and lowered me to the floor.

I huddled there against him, shivering, unable to speak. I wished I could have strode through that door and shouted a triumphant "I did it," forgetting everything that had happened. But I couldn't. And this was the one place where I knew I wouldn't have to, the one person who wouldn't think any the less of me for sitting here, shivering, a heartbeat away from breaking down and bawling like a baby.

Kristof took my left hand and traced his thumb around the stab wound through my palm. His lips moved. I strained to hear what he was saying, then picked up a few words of Greek and recognized a minor healing incantation. A witch spell, one of the few he knew. I'd taught it to him when we'd been together, a little something for his boys, to make the cuts and bruises of childhood easier. He'd struggled with the spell, but had insisted on perfecting it, practicing more than he ever would for any spell of true power.

When he finished, he glanced up at me sheepishly. "Guess you need something stronger than that."

My eyes filled. "No, that was perfect. Thank you."

I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his, closing my eyes as the warmth of his skin chased away the last niggling bits of cold from that place. I put my hands to his cheeks as I kissed him and the heat radiated through, as soothing as Trsiel's healing touch, maybe more.