The Burning Hand by Jodi Meadows
Author:Jodi Meadows
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-10-25T16:00:00+00:00
SEVEN
COLD WATER SURGED over my face.
In my eyes.
Up my nose.
Into my mouth.
A man jostled me. My shoulder hit a rock as he shoved me deeper into the water.
I hadn’t taken enough of a breath, and already my lungs burned with the need to breathe. My chest spasmed as seconds ticked by, but I didn’t struggle, didn’t move. That would only make my air run out sooner.
Small bubbles escaped the corners of my mouth.
Saints, I wanted to breathe. I needed to breathe. But the rough, heavy hands were still on the back of my neck and shoulders, and the only thing I could feel was the cold water numbing me and the brush of plants waving in the current.
This was it. This was how I was going to die.
Only sixteen. Hunting a flasher lord.
And what about James? What would become of him, if I were gone? It seemed likely my death would kill him, too.
My thoughts grew heavy and sluggish. More air escaped and my chest was an inferno of need. No matter how I focused on holding my breath, I knew I’d give in soon. I couldn’t last much longer.
Suddenly, the weight on my head and shoulders lifted.
Fumbling with my bound hands, my whole body throbbing in pain, I pulled and pushed myself from the river, and shook the wet strands of hair from my face to see what was happening.
Romily.
She had my sword and was standing over an unmoving Nightmare. Dead? Hensley strode toward her, his good hand glowing faint red.
There was no time to ask questions.
I grabbed the knife that had been at my throat minutes before, and sliced at the bonds around my wrists and ankles. It was difficult with my fingers cold and wet and numb, but finally the cords snapped. Blood poured into my hands and feet, stinging, but I couldn’t worry about it now. The remaining Nightmares converged on Romily, who lunged as though to thrust the sword into Hensley’s stomach.
One of the Nightmares shoved her over, and the sword flew from her grasp. Hensley rushed toward her, his hand out and fingers splayed. He was going to burn her up the same way he had Knight.
With a wordless shout, I took the knife and ran at Hensley, ready to saw off his other hand. But my body wouldn’t work right. I stumbled and struggled on my feet, and I hadn’t caught my breath. I’d never make it on time. Already, he knelt and pressed his fingertips against the side of her face.
A low roar came from the warehouse next door.
Everyone stopped and looked toward the now open doorway.
A huge shape staggered out. Bulging, grotesque muscle, with wide, red-rimmed eyes. The man had to be twice as tall as me. A deep odor of wraith rolled off him.
Hensley swore at the nearest Nightmare. “You brought a glowman?” He stood again, Romily forgotten, and backed away, one long step after another. He looked . . . afraid.
The Nightmare grinned, making his rust-colored tattoo shift on his face.
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