Chapter Three
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” A cool breeze blew a lock of hair over Kira’s eyes. She tucked it behind her ear then watched as Lydia set her tripod beside the rustic footbridge that spanned the creek they’d followed for over an hour. The contrast of the wild daisies against the weather-beaten planks had obviously caught Lydia’s eye.
“I can’t believe you came,” Lydia said.
“Well, it’s not like you gave me much of a choice.” Kira leaned her back against a nearby tree before pulling the two sides of her jacket together to ward off the evening chill. “You do realize there’s no outlet for my laptop up here?”
Lydia shook her head. “There are other things in this world besides the Internet, you know.”
“You only say that because you’re computer illiterate. What you have against modern technology, I’ll never know. Honestly, I’m surprised you don’t use one of those antique cameras, where a person has to hold perfectly still while you slide that big doohickey in and out.”
Lydia laughed as she stepped away from the camera to take her shot. Holding the tiny remote in the palm of her hand, she gave it a squeeze. She leaned forward to take a peek at the image on the LCD screen. “The light isn’t right.”
Lydia’s frustration didn’t surprise Kira. They’d spent most of the day taking photos of wild flowers and Lydia’s eye for detail had made the day drag on and on. Kira pushed away from the tree to get a closer look. As Lydia stepped back from the camera and motioned Kira to take a peek, goose bumps rose on Kira’s arms.
“Maybe we should go,” Kira said. “I feel weird.”
“I think you’re right. It’ll be dark soon anyway.” Lydia released the camera from the tripod and handed it to Kira to place in the backpack, but as Kira opened the bag, she heard a strange noise in the distance.
“Lydia?” Kira whispered, shoving the camera in the bag and pulling the zipper shut.
“It’s okay, probably just a squirrel or something.” Lydia’s actions said something entirely different. After taking another quick glance through the trees, she tossed her bag over her shoulder, handed Kira the tripod, and motioned for her to walk toward the car.
More than once Kira caught Lydia looking behind her, but it wasn’t until they were almost to the road that she heard heavy footsteps. She spun around just as a man stepped out from behind a tree.
From his shoes to the hood pulled over his head he wore solid black, a stark contrast to his pale blue eyes and albino skin. He flashed a sinister grin.
The tripod slipped from Kira’s hands and fell to the ground with a loud clank.
“Run!” Lydia yelled as she pushed Kira toward the road, the white roof of the car barely visible through the underbrush.
Kira spun around and took off toward the car, skidding to a stop a second later when she noticed another man standing a few feet in front of her. He casually picked his fingernails with the tip of a very large switchblade. The wicked grin on his face made the skin on Kira’s arms grow cold and a chill rise up the length of her spine.
“Going somewhere?” he mocked. His long, stringy blonde hair set him off from his cohort—as did the deep scar that ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear.
Lydia ran full force into Kira’s back, sending them both scrambling for their balance. They clumsily regained their footing and tried to avoid the men by going a different direction, but their pursuers cut them off like a pack of wolves cornering their prey. Kira’s stomach twisted into a massive ball. She should have listened to her instincts.
“What do you want?” Lydia asked, her voice hard and angry.
The blonde casually tossed his knife from one hand to the other, as if terrorizing them brought him some kind of satisfaction. His hollow gray eyes held no mercy. Kira was close enough that she could see that now. Whatever the men meant to do was decided.
“Princess Shandira would like a word with you,” the albino said.
“She’s no princess,” Lydia said, as a tiny click released the plastic buckle on the strap of her pack. The weight of it brushed against Kira’s leg as Lydia lowered it to the ground between their feet.
“What are you doing?” Kira asked between gritted teeth, her voice barely audible.
But Lydia didn’t answer. Her next words were meant for the albino. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“What’s he talking about?” Kira asked over her shoulder while keeping the blonde’s movements in her view. Her question mingled with the sudden wail of Lydia’s attacker and the popping and cracking of what she imagined to be breaking bones. Kira turned to see Lydia forcing the man to his knees, his fist grasped tightly in her right hand. Blood oozed from between her fingers.
The blonde pushed Kira to the ground as he hurried to his partner’s aid. It happened so fast, Kira didn’t think how to react. She simply twisted around and dove for his legs. The knife flew from his grasp and landed a few feet away in the dirt. Unable to reach her with his hands, he kicked Kira loose with a firm thrust of his boot to her ribs. She cried out, grabbed her side and scooted away until her back rested against a stump.
The man narrowed his eyes at her. The evil she saw in them sent a surge of fear clean through her. She couldn’t move—could barely breathe with the throbbing pain in her side.
A grunt of frustration rumbled through his chest as he jumped to his feet to retrieve his weapon. When his fingers brushed the handle of the knife, Lydia released a throaty growl. He jerked his head to the side and froze. It was then that Kira noticed the change in Lydia as well.
At first Kira only saw her from behind, but as Lydia’s assailant rolled to the ground, holding his mangled and bloody hand against his body, Lydia turned toward the blonde, giving Kira a side view of her face. The girl standing in front of her was not her friend, but a morphed version of her.
Lydia had a round face with a little nose, thin lips, and green eyes. This girl’s face was lean and tan, with a slender nose perfectly positioned above full lips. It was as if a sculptor had remolded her features. And her eyes—the color of blue ice—with the same frigid speck of attitude Kira had so often seen hidden behind Lydia’s.
The girl threw back her shoulders, leaned toward the blonde and extended her hands to coax him closer. “You are next,” she said in a strange accent. The way she rolled her “r” reminded Kira of a cat purring.
The man snatched the knife from the ground and swung his blade, barely missing the girl’s cheek.
“Take her down,” the injured albino said as he rolled to his knees and clumsily pushed to his feet. “I’ll get the runt.”
It only took Kira a second to figure out he meant her, but she couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. She ducked her head and waited for him to grab her with his good hand. When he didn’t, she looked up to see the girl shove the blonde to the side and leap into the air, thrusting her right foot into the wounded man’s stomach just a few feet from where Kira cowered.
Yes! Kira nearly said aloud. She didn’t know who this girl was, but she liked her kick-butt attitude and wished she was more like her. If only she had the courage to join in the fight. The thought made her shrink closer to the ground and brace against the stump.
Lydia’s keys landed in Kira’s lap with a thunk. “Kira, get out of here,” the girl yelled, delivering another blow to the crippled man’s hand. He cried out, cradled the bloody mass against his gut, then pushed up with his good arm.
Before Kira had time to react, the blonde had regained his footing and started toward her.
“Kira! Go!” the girl yelled as she jumped between them, deflecting another blow with her arm and sweeping his feet out from under him with her leg. He landed flat on his back, a whoosh of air bursting from his lungs.
The injured man took another quick look at the scene in front of him, mumbled something under his breath, and took off in the direction of the bridge. The blonde stumbled to his feet and brought his knife up, s
winging the blade.
Kira screamed.
But not the girl. She took a step toward him, showing no fear. “Only a fool would take me on . . . alone.”
The man straightened and smiled. “Perhaps you would rather fight Shandira? The odds would be quite different in that battle.” Then he turned and ran after his fleeing partner.
Kira still held the keys in her hand, unable to move and completely mesmerized by the strength of the girl who’d fought two large men on her own. She had to be Lydia—the proof was in her clothes and the thick blonde braid that hung down the length of her back. What threw her was the accent and transformation to the girl’s face—to her eyes.
“Lydia?” Kira said cautiously.
The girl’s back was to her when she spoke. “They cannot escape. If word gets back to Shandira . . .” She paused for a moment, as if trying to catch her breath. “Wait for me in the car.” Then she took off after them.
“No!” Kira yelled, then jumped to her feet. She held the keys so tight, they pinched the inside of her hand. She wanted to get as far away as she could, but how could she leave Lydia? How could she just abandon her with those men running around out there? Then Kira remembered the girl’s face and doubt returned. What had she seen? Was it her crazy imagination playing tricks on her mind again? It had to be. She knew the girl was Lydia. Every ounce of her being knew it.
Kira took one more look at the hood of the car through the bushes. Lydia could obviously take care of herself, she’d just seen her fight like a freakin’ ninja. What could Kira possibly do to help? But then she heard a blood-curdling scream that sent chills up the length of her spine. At first she thought it was Lydia, but when it came again it sounded more like the cry of a wild animal.
“Crap!” Kira tucked the keys in her pocket and started toward the bridge. She followed their earlier path, praying one of the men hadn’t circled around to catch her alone. When she entered the small clearing near the creek, she heard a man’s voice cursing and yelling in the distance. Kira swallowed hard, forcing herself to go against that voice in her head that told her to escape, to get as far away from danger as she could.
Still trembling, Kira managed to make her feet move forward, trying desperately not to think about what she would find or what had made that hideous sound.