The DarkWorld SoulTracker Series Box Set Vol II Page 11

  About the blood and their horrible wounds.

  About the man who stood in the center of them, reveling in the power he’d received, of his reddened mouth and teeth as he grinned.

  I didn’t pause on the other side of the gazebo. I didn’t even look back as I ran into the trees lining the property, scaled the high brick wall and stumbled out of the trees and onto the gravel where Drake had parked the rental car.

  The night was still dark, but a breeze was stirring, one strong enough to throw my hair across my face. I scraped it away and made for the car.

  Still weak on my feet, I fell forward, hitting the sharp gravel hard. I flung my hands out to save myself and landed on my palms. Pain seared into my hands, my threshold weaker now than ever. My knees stung just as bad, and I found myself cursing the fact that my jeans would be ruined.

  A small voice in my head suggested I adopt the torn jeans style thus saving me from having to throw them out. I ignored the voice.

  Scrambling to my feet, I dusted my hands off as I ran for the car, ignoring the stabs of pain as tiny stones scraped the open wounds. I reached out to grab the handle, prepared for the agony of holding it with my ruined palms when a strange sound behind me drew my attention.

  The breeze had become stronger, and as I turned, my stomach tightened at the sight of the small tornado spinning not ten feet away from me.

  Within the spinning air stood a shadowed form, body hidden, face disguised. Shadows skimmed his form and joined the tornado as if the man was breaking it apart in order to become one with the dervish.

  I ran, circling the car, putting the vehicle between the oncoming Shadowman and myself

  Not that it mattered. He seemed to move right through the car, although I suspected he was merely skimming along over the metal considering his form was now constructed of scraps of shadows.

  He swooped closer, and I shrieked, trying to run. But he reached out and curled a shadowing hand around my ankle, tripping me up. I landed on my cheek, splitting the skin. Blood seeped from my face, and I suppressed a moan of pain. I was now more angry than in pain.

  I spun around and boosted myself up.

  And narrowly avoided being impaled by a black dagger that swept through the shadows aimed at my neck. Shit. Whoever this Shadowman was he was damned good.

  Excellent assassin.

  He lunged again, his shadowy form rippling like silk on the night air. That he was made up of bits of darkness and shadow didn’t help considering the night itself was pitch dark without even the help of the moon to light my way.

  I spun away, then reached for my daggers even though I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fight a shadow. I’d have needed to spell my daggers in advance of this fight and Shadowmen were the last things I’d expected to encounter.

  As I dodged his dagger, Nerina’s words echoed in my mind as she’d told me the brief version of an attack on Kailin when she’d been in Maine with Lily. Something about a Shadowman trying to kill her.

  Seems I wasn’t the only one on the shadow assassin’s kill list. Kai and I needed to have a talk.

  But right now, I had to duck.

  I crouched and spun, attempting a dropkick with a blow of my foot to the shadow guy’s ankle, but I spun around and lost my balance. He had no physical form so fighting him was as useless as punching air.

  Fighting him was punching air.

  Shit.

  I had to run.

  I turned and headed for the tree line again, a tiny part of me hoping to have a moment to test my jumping abilities. I could no longer just jump when needed. It used to be all I needed was to think about jumping, and I could perform the action, but these days I felt like I’d returned to my first few times, having to concentrate hard, to focus on the destination too.

  As I ran I tried to access the ether, hoping that perhaps by some insane miracle I was able to jump without too much hard work on my part.

  Nothing.

  The wind rose around me as I ran, and my heart raced. The tornado of shadows had encircled me entirely, and I was now surrounded by a wall of spinning rips of darkness. Before I could understand what was happening a dark blade flicked out of the shadows and embedded itself into my abdomen. The attack lasted barely a second before the blade appeared again. This time it sank into my upper thigh.

  I screamed in both pain and frustration as I spun around trying to get out of the funnel of shadows, hoping to be able to see where the next attack was going to come from.

  The tornado spun faster and faster, and the world around me began to fade. It was all too much. The weakness, the blood loss, the spinning. It all took its toll and suddenly I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t move even though I wanted to run as fast as I could, even though I wanted to jump the second I got the chance.

  Escape wasn’t an option. Today submission was the choice.

  My vision turned to black, and I passed out.

  Chapter 22

  A voice called out, frantic and a little too high-pitched for the owner who I recognized as Drake.

  “Late to the party, dude,” I mumbled as I struggled to sit up.

  “Sorry.” He supported my back, and the world slowly righted itself. I barely paid Drake any attention as he flitted about, grabbing first-aid stuff from the car.

  “You have a first-aid kit in the car?” I heard myself say. I sounded surprised.

  “Of course, I was traveling with you. The need for a first aid kit is essential.” His tone was dry, but I could tell that he was about to freak out.

  I resisted the urge to complain and submitted to his ministrations, allowing him to clean my wounds and bandage me up. “When we get back to the room, I’ll stitch those two up.” He pointed at my abdomen and then my thigh. “Fair warning—it’s not going to be easy. We don’t have the level of painkillers that you’ll need for it to go easy.”

  I shrugged. “Painkillers are the least of my concerns. I just almost got murdered by a shadow killer that sliced and diced and then stopped short of killing me. I’m a little confused about the still-being-alive bit.”

  “Don’t be. It was my pleasure,” Drake said with a smirk.

  “What?” My eyes widened. “You killed him?” I smiled, supremely glad that Drake had arrived in time.

  He snorted. “No such luck.” He gathered the bloody swabs and ripped packets and dropped them into a garbage bag. “When I got here he was about to start next-level dicing. You were lying on the ground—I saw red ‘cos I thought he’d killed you—and when I charged he disappeared. Just like that. All swirling smoke and shadows and then poof.”

  Drake’s forehead shone with perspiration, and I wondered what else had happened that he wasn’t telling me. He wasn’t the overly macho type who’d never admit to losing a fight.

  There was a silence in which I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Bastard,” said Drake.

  “Yeah.” I’d run out of strength even for cursing.

  Drake chucked the bag of first aid debris into the car and scooped me up in his arms. This time, I was most grateful and didn’t complain as he carried me to the car and deposited me into the back seat.

  Thankfully I didn’t endure the bumps and jolts as Drake drove us back to the loft.

  I passed out instead.

  * * *

  “What the hell makes you think the wards will hold?” asked Drake, hovering over me and crowding into my personal space.

  Usually, I never minded Drake being all up in my grill, but today there were too many things I had to deal with. His temper was on a short leash, and though I’d only been awake for about five minutes, he was already losing it.

  I was sitting on the thin mattress near the window, leaning against the wall for support. Pale sunshine filtered in through the one-way windows of the loft. My head throbbed, my nose bled, my palms and knees stung to high heaven, and my knife wounds screamed with pain. “Natasha said it will hold as long as we did exactly as she instructed. As far as I can
tell we haven’t broken the wards so we should be good.”

  I lifted my shirt and stared at the bandages. “Did you stitch me up while I was unconscious?”

  “You kidding me?” Drake snorted. “That would have been asking for trouble.”

  “Why? I’d have been unconscious to the pain,” I said wishing he had had the sense to operate while I’d been out.

  Drake laughed. “Sure. I’d have had to either cut your pants off or remove them, both options would have been reason for you to have my head. Either because I ruined your jeans or because I saw you in your pink frilly panties.”

  I rolled my eyes. “FYI they’re blue, and only old ladies and babies wear frilly panties. I’m pretty sure you can’t even buy them anymore.” I smirked, dragged off my shirt and wriggled out of my jeans as he headed to the kitchen for stitching-Mel-up supplies.

  Pulling my rucksack closer, I grabbed my gym boy-shorts from inside, as well as a thin muscle tee. Sliding both garments on was hard enough to do without having to think about the process of needle and thread through flesh that would soon follow.

  I settled onto my back as Drake dropped down beside me. “We don’t have painkillers.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “Just thought it best to get that out of the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We don’t have anything for you to bite down on either.”

  I nodded. “I do.” I twisted to the side and pulled my belt from my jeans. The leather was thin but doubled over it would work well enough to bite down on. I had intended on declining, pretending to be brave enough that I wouldn’t scream, but I had to admit that I was no longer as brave or as strong as I’d like to believe.

  I settled back down onto the mattress and gritted my teeth. I’d had surgical interventions before but none like this. I was tempted to call Carter to send me a healer mage, but it would take time, and introduce too many new questions.

  He’d likely also end up asking me to continue to follow up on the case, something I was not keen on. Carter hadn’t been impressed when I’d told him Asher had blocked our access and I had no further update other than what Steph had already given me—which I’d passed on to Carter and the team the moment she’d sent it through.

  Drake knelt beside me and set the first aid bag on the floor at my side. He was silent as he put on the surgical mask and laid out the sterile mat, and the needles, threads, and other implements still in their packets. He picked out a pair of surgical gloves and snapped them on, before opening all the packets and dropping the various implements into a sterilized bowl.

  His movements were swift and sure, as if he’d done this sort of thing a thousand times before.

  I was about to ask how skilled he was in the medical arena—more to break the tension than anything especially given the fact that I’ve known him for more than eight years now—when he ripped open the packet containing the needle.

  He tore open the packet and lifted out the needle—long and sharp and curved, it looked a little scary when being wielded by an amateur.

  He cleared his throat behind the mask. “Where do you want me to start?” he asked waving a hand at the wound in my abdomen as if he had a preference.

  I didn’t care either way. Both were going to cause me untold agony.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go see if that herbal shop has anything that could help you?”

  I shook my head. “Not a chance in Kwalasha.”

  Drake snorted. “You’re so funny.”

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I placed the folded belt between my teeth and settled back. From where my head lay on the pile of rolled-up jackets I was able to watch as Drake brought the tip of the needle closer to my wound.

  I thought about what I could possibly do to take my mind off what was to come. Could I travel? Perhaps check on Samuel? I tabled that idea. Pain in the physical form would take a lot of energy on a person’s spiritual energy. And that would bring me slamming back into my body. Worst case scenario though, was losing the tether to the physical form and being lost in the ether unable to find my way back to my body.

  Probably not an option I’d like.

  I settled back and shifted my gaze, staring out at the duck-egg blue morning sky. The air was humid and hot, and my hair happily conveyed that with an abundance of frizz. I was more than awake when Drake pressed the needle against my skin and lifted it slightly in order to press the sharp point through.

  I let out a soft cry, ignoring the tear that slipped from my eye. One down, probably six to go from the size of the wound. The Shadowman’s knife had been deadly sharp and had left a clean incision. If my surgeon was deft, I might end up with only a thin line for a scar. I bit down as he made his second insertion, feeling perspiration begin to bead on my forehead.

  The room swam as the pain engulfed double fold. And darkness swept over me.

  * * *

  I opened my eyes, and shadows swirled around me. I should have been afraid, but there was a strange sense of calm that had come over me. I turned to scan the ether, aware that this was a rather strange dream. It felt so real though, and the sensation confused me.

  A figure approached, flitting toward me as if he knew his way around all too well.

  Samuel moved closer to me, and my stomach twinged. Still, I reveled in seeing him smiling and healthy as he stopped before me and took my hands.

  “It’s time,” he said softly.

  “Time for what?” I asked frowning and a little impatient. I disliked riddles and manipulations.

  “Time for you to know the truth. You will meet soon. I hope you understand why I did what I did.”

  I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, ask who I was meant to meet, but he cupped my cheek, his expression filled with such tenderness that tears rolled down my face.

  And then he faded away.

  I reached for him. “Sam—”

  Chapter 23

  I sucked in a breath as I woke to find that Drake had paused, waiting for me. I turned to look at him. His eyes were filled with worry and pity.

  “Shit, Mel,” Drake growled the words out, and they sounded odd coming from the other side of his face mask.

  I grinned. “How about a strong left hook? I could do with a KO right about now.”

  “Shut up, Mel. That is not funny at all.”

  I eyed him sadly and then sighed. “I’m fine,” I whispered. “Keep going and get it over with.”

  Drake nodded and obeyed, bending to his task as I bit down again.

  As bad as the pain was, when he lifted his head and reached for a pair of scissors to snip off the excess thread, I was surprised. I’d been tensing for so long that relaxation felt strange.

  He cleaned the wound, then applied a layer of bioheal then turned to attend to the thigh wound.

  “You wanna take a break?” I offered, knowing this wasn’t exactly easy for him either. His muscles were taut and the vein in his neck pulsed like crazy.

  Poor Drake.

  “No. I’d rather get this done.” His words were short and clipped.

  I sighed and waited as he changed needles and prepared thread and swabs.

  For some reason, the skin on my thigh seemed so much more sensitive. The moment the needle entered my flesh I bit down a scream and had to clench my thigh muscles to ensure I didn’t flinch or pull away.

  Drake paused, waiting until the pain faded a little. “This will hurt more. You’d already drained your defenses with the first stitching. And the thigh is more tender, and the cut is deeper. Ideally, I should be checking if you’ve sliced muscle, but I don’t think it’s the case with this wound.”

  I nodded and paused to give him a pointed look. I must have looked hilarious with the leather belt between my teeth, giving him over-exaggerated eye motions.

  But Drake didn’t laugh. He kept at it, stitch after stitch, pausing in between to allow me to rest and breathe through the pain. It felt like forever, and so much longer than the abdominal
stitches.

  And when it was over, I was both surprised and relieved.

  Tears slipped from my eyes, and I wiped them away as Drake cleaned up the wound. He was kind enough to pretend to not have seen my weak tears, keeping his focus on the bandages on my thigh.

  Then Drake sat back and stared at my face. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to repay him for what he’d just done. I was so grateful that he’d returned in time to come with me on this mission. I knew I had so many questions for him, but right now they could all wait because I just wanted to spend a few moments appreciating my friend.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice breaking with exhaustion and emotion as the adrenaline fled.

  “You’re one tough gal, you know that?” he asked as he leaned forward and gathered me up in his arms. I relaxed into his embrace and sighed, glad to feel a body against mine and a heart beating in time with mine. Drake tightened his arms around me and then slowly released me.

  “Thank you for trusting me.”

  “You seemed to know what you were doing,” I said softly.

  He pursed his lips. “Where I come from you don’t get to choose what you want to do with your life. Not if you belonged to the type of family I belong to.”

  “Is that why you left?” I asked, watching his face. Mostly I was trying to distract myself, but it occurred to me that trying to get him to talk about painful personal issues just so that I didn’t have to think about my pain was a little selfish.

  Drake nodded. “Something like that,” he said as he got to his feet. “You need to get some sleep. Can you at least try to do that? Human biology requires sleep to ensure full regeneration of cells.”

  He grabbed the stack of first-aid remnants and headed to the kitchen, and I watched as he binned them, washed his hands, boiled water—in a kettle? Where did we get a kettle from?—and prepared a cup of tea for me.