Wings to the Kingdom (Eden Moore 2)

He sucked his breath in, and I thought he was jokingly complying with my request until I took another step and he caught me by the shirttail. “What are you doing? Let go or keep up. ”

He only tightened his hold on my poor T-shirt and tugged me back towards him.

I turned around and smacked his hand. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I growled, pretending not to know a loaded question when I asked one.

“I saw him,” he said, more quietly than I’d ever heard him speak before. If I’d been another six inches away, I couldn’t have heard him.

I brought the light up until it aimed its halogen beam at his chest. “Who? Where?”

He lifted one long, skinny hand and waggled it as if he were trying to shake something off it. “Over there. I saw his eyes. He’s going that way. Wow, he moves so fast. ”

Malachi dropped the end of my shirt and took a half-step back.

“Malachi,” I said with a warning.

I didn’t disbelieve him, exactly, but I didn’t want him to hightail it from fright. “Malachi, calm down. ”

I wanted to say more, but I stopped and shook my head like I was dislodging water from my ears. The low, insistent static sound hummed stronger now. By now I was all but certain that the white noise was no river rush. It was too hard to think when I heard it. It was too hard to concentrate on anything else.

“I have to go. We have to go. ”

“Malachi. Malachi, don’t run. ”

“We have to go. ”

“Malachi, calm down. Stay here for just a minute—”

“No,” he gasped, and he turned to run.

I caught his arm and whipped him back; and because I couldn’t think of anything else that would slow him down, I hit him as hard as I could. My knuckles caught him in the temple, or maybe on his brow-bone; I couldn’t tell. Either way, down he went. He sort of caught himself on his knees and elbows, and crumpled down to lie on his shoulder.

“Shit. ” I rubbed the back of my hand against my stomach and knelt down beside Malachi.

“What’d you do that for?” he slurred, holding his palms against his eye.

“I didn’t mean to,” I answered, and it was almost true.

A small spark flashed over to my left and was gone. I swung my light around to catch its source. Between the trees something moved away from us, or past us, and was gone.

“Did you see that?” I asked my prone companion.

“I see stars, like in a cartoon, only they’re smaller. Brighter,” he answered dreamily. At least he didn’t sound afraid anymore.

“Good. Good then. You stay here and look at the stars. I’ll be right back. ”

I underwent a moment of crisis trying to decide whether to bring the light or leave it with him, then took it and put it into his hand by prying his fingers apart and wrapping them around the barrel. “Hold this,” I told him.

“What?”

“Hold it, until I get back. Wave it around so I can find you again. Okay?”

“’Kay. ”

“And don’t turn it off. ”

“Turn it off. ”

“Don’t turn it—oh hell. Never mind. Give it here. Give it back. ” I wrested it out of his hand and set it down a few feet away, aimed at the sky. “Lie here and stay out of trouble. I’ll be back in a minute. I’m leaving this here so I can find my way back to you. Don’t touch it. ”