Mercy Burns (Myth and Magic 2)
I had no idea why we’d thought he had, considering these people had a tendency to hunt in packs. But I backed away and leaned against the outside wall of an RV for a moment, closing my eyes and breathing deep.
What now?
Waiting for Damon to take care of the problem was the obvious solution, but I just felt too exposed here in this park—if only because the travelers would be waking soon and would start questioning why I was hanging around. That meant I needed to find somewhere more secure—somewhere downwind and in deeper cover.
I shifted and peered around the corner again. And again, my heart just about stopped.
The shadow had disappeared.
Fear clenched my gut and the litany that ran through my mind was little more than a rambling, panicked, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
But neither panic nor that litany was going to help me, so I took a deep, calming breath and tried to think sensibly.
Obviously the watcher had moved back through the trees; anything else I would have seen. I had no idea whether he’d seen me, but I had to presume he had. Which meant getting out of here.
Fast.
I pushed away from the RV and ran to the next one, dropping to my knees and crawling underneath. The asphalt was cool and smelled of oil—evidence of the number of leaky vehicles that had parked here over the years. Once through, I climbed to my feet and ran to the rocky shoreline, jumping down the slight embankment and keeping low as I ran toward the pier. I was heading away from the car, but right now that was probably the safest option.
I reached the ramp that crossed the water to the pier, then risked taking a peek at my surroundings. Though a nearby RV was blocking the majority of my view, I couldn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity. But people were stirring in the various vehicles, and lights were beginning to flicker on—yellow blooms whose brightness wouldn’t last long against the growing light of day. I had to get to the trees before then.
I bit my bottom lip, torn between ducking under the ramp and getting wet, and taking the higher, less secure route through the RVs.
The higher road won. I wasn’t about to run around all day in wet shoes.
I pulled myself up the rocks and ran for the back of the nearest vehicle. Murmured conversation rode the air, followed by the buzz of a microwave timer going off. I peered around the RV’s corner, saw that the blinds were still shut, and ran for the next vehicle. There were three more RVs and a long stretch of nothingness before I reached the tree line. It seemed a mile away.
I blew out a breath, and once again told myself that Damon would be here soon. All I had to do was stay out of harm’s way long enough.
And as much as the thought of relying on someone else to get me out of trouble rankled, it was definitely my best option now.
I ran for the next RV, pressed my back against the metal side and listened intently for any sign that the shadow might be near, then repeated the process.
Then that huge expanse of empty parking lot was upon me. I contemplated it warily, mouth dry and heart racing. Of course, it was always possible I’d seen nothing more than one of the campers out for an early morning stroll, but I did not dare take that chance. Not with the way fate had been playing my cards of late.
Even as that thought crossed my mind, the wind shifted and suddenly I knew I was no longer alone. My gut twisted and with a soft cry of denial I half turned, my fist rising, ready to punch, to fight. But it was already too late. A leather-clad arm snaked around my neck and forced me back against a body that was thick and muscular, and smelled of ash and death.
But he was draman, not dragon.
“Got you at last, my pretty,” he whispered, his harsh tones whispering past my ear.
Just for one second, the fear that churned my gut got the better of me, freezing my limbs and turning my thoughts to mush. But as his arm tightened around my neck and started cutting off my air, adrenaline surged.
I shifted my foot and stomped down on the top of his as hard as I could, then clenched my fist and elbowed him in the gut. His grunt was an explosion of air and his grip released a little, giving me air but not freedom.
I twisted my chin to the side, dropping it down into the pit of his elbow so he couldn’t cut off my airway any further, then reached for my flame, dragging it through my body and pushing the explosion of heat back into his.
Such was the force that it wrenched him away from me. His arm tore away from my neck, his watch catching and cutting my skin, but I spun around and kicked him, as hard as I possibly could, in the groin. He might be draman, and therefore tougher than most humans, but he was still a man. He made an odd sort of groaning noise and dropped like a stone.
I turned and ran for the trees. I didn’t head for the car simply because I had no idea if it was safe to do so. I had no idea whether it was safe to run through the open parking lot, either. After all, these men had weapons and had shown a penchant for using them.
The thought sent a fresh surge of energy flooding through my limbs, and I made it to the trees in record time. I didn’t stop there, but ran deep into the middle. It might be only a small wood, but no one could get me in their rifle sights or creep up on me in here. The ground was too strewn with leaf matter and other rubbish.
I leaned back against a tree and tried to catch my breath. My limbs were trembling and my heart raced like a wild thing. I might have defended myself, but—just like in the past—it had scared the hell out of me.
Maybe I should leave this to the experts.
Maybe I should just pack up and go home.