The struggle stopped instantly. The Original let go of his head and sat up, straddling him, her thighs gripping his waist. In any other circumstance it might have been pleasurable. She looked a little like Angelina Jolie, Cyrus thought randomly, and then cursed himself that his mind was so one track even when facing death.
This close he could see the starbursts of red in her eyes, could make out the pupils expanding like balloons, could see her fangs, the needle points of them getting closer, and he knew what was coming next. He didn’t have time to even lift his blade before her teeth bit straight through his T-shirt, ripping aside what was left of the bandage, and then sank into the torn flesh of his arm. The pain shot through him like a million shards of acid-coated glass shredding his nerves. There was no way of containing it – he let out an agonised scream, trying at the same time to roll out from under her, to wrench his arm free from her teeth, but it was hopeless. It was like being mauled by a lion.
He tried to focus even as his heart started to burst supernova style and stars flew across his vision. He was giving up without a fight. That was not how he was going to die. Hadn’t he promised Evie he was going to protect her? Gritting his teeth, he forced his numb fingers to grip hold of the blade, which was slipping from them. Then, grunting, he forced his free arm to lift. His vision was darkening. Something was banging slowly against his skull, loud and insistent, and he realised it was his heart refusing to give up but slowing nonetheless as the blood flowed out of him.
With a final effort, he brought the blade up high, blocking out the guzzling sound, and then, feeling teeth gnash with abandon against nerve and bone he slashed the blade down as hard as he could.
The girl let out a gasp as the blade slid through her spinal cord, not even snagging on the nerves bundled inside. Before she could collapse down on him Cyrus rolled, freeing himself.
He climbed to his feet, swaying wildly, his mangled arm dangling uselessly at his side, and scanned the garden, trying to spot Evie, panic and adrenaline and blood loss making the lawn tilt vertical.
He kept turning in frantic, unsteady circles, the others only vaguely registering on his consciousness, the grunts and yells and cries drowned out by his own silent screams, and then he saw her – on her knees, by Vero’s side. She had the crossbow on her shoulder and was trying frantically to load an arrow, while an Original strode towards them.
Chapter 55
Evie had shot the blonde Original that came at her. The bullet had hit its eye, temporarily blinding it, giving enough time for Selena to get close and douse it with flames.
In the heat and rush and chaos that had erupted she’d not seen what had happened to Ash. All she’d registered was that Vero was struggling to her feet, trying to drag the crossbow up to her wounded shoulder and an Original was stalking her way. Evie had dived towards Vero and snatched the crossbow from her hands. But it wouldn’t load. She couldn’t fit the arrow.
Finally, she managed to slot the damn thing into the groove. She hit the trigger in the same second. The arrow went wide, nicking the Original in the arm, making him pause just briefly to examine the wound with a slightly curious expression.
Evie flung the crossbow to her feet, stepped in front of Vero and drew her blade but before she could even bring it up to chest height the Original crumpled right in front of where they were standing. Evie looked around, her heart hammering. Who had finished him off? In the next instant the body exploded as Selena trained the flamethrower at him. Evie threw herself backwards out of the way of the flames.
She tried to scan the scene in front of her but she couldn’t make anything out – everything was moving too fast, flames licking the ground in front of her, and the roar of the flamethrower and the screams of the others filling her ears.
Jamieson had appeared suddenly by Vero’s side, was helping her to stand.
‘Get out of here!’ Evie yelled at them.
Through the flames and the black smoke, she saw Cyrus. He had blood pouring in rivers down his arm and was swaying, veering towards her at a run.
Just behind him she caught sight of Flic, barely visible, a dark shadow, haloed by light, feinting and thrusting with her blade, blue sparks showering down over her. She was fighting one of the two Originals left guarding the gateway. Ash was fighting the other. Evie started sprinting towards them, snatching the crossbow from the ground as she went.
She raised it to her shoulder as she ran, took aim and let an arrow fly. It tore through the neck of the Original fighting Flic. She watched Flic expertly slice through the flap of skin still keeping the head attached to the body, even as she kept running, swerving towards Ash who had been forced almost back against the perimeter wall. Evie was almost by his side when she came to a slamming stop, her feet kicking up turf.
Through the thick black smoke she saw him.
She saw Lucas.
He was only a trace. An outline against the flames, no more, and a part of her brain knew it couldn’t really be him, that it had to be a figment of her imagination. But it was enough to make her pause, to make all the noise and the panic drop away, as though she’d just plunged off a cliff and was freefalling through space.
It was Lucas. No one else moved like that. So fluidly, so full of grace. And she could feel him, could sense him now, her stomach tightening and her heart rate upping, her blood fizzing and bubbling as though magnetised.
And then he turned and looked straight at her. She noticed every single detail of him in that one second – the streak of dirt across his cheek, the scratch above his eye, the shirt he was wearing, the thinness of his face.
He was staring at her fiercely, his shoulders heaving up and down, sweat running down his face. And she couldn’t move. She was frozen to the spot. The air exploded out of her lungs in one big rush.
He was here. He was alive.
Chapter 56
Lucas had taken out the girl opposite Evie first. An easy kill, one that had made him believe that they could win. Evie had shot her through the eye and he’d finished her off with a stabbing thrust through the back of the ribs that pierced her heart. The lighter was in his other hand. She’d been a ball of flames before the new Hunter with the flamethrower had even started smoking up the place.
Distracted by that, he’d lost sight of Evie for a split second, had whipped around just in time to see her, crouched beside Vero, firing an arrow at the Original advancing on them. It flew wide, hit him in the arm, only slowing him for a second. Lucas had reached him just as he closed in on Evie and had finished him off with a blade across the back of his neck, severing his spinal cord.
He’d meant to stay close to her and Vero after that, but the sound of Flic screaming had forced him back into the fight. Through a blanket of smoke he had caught sight of her weaving and darting out of the way as an Original came at her – fangs bared. Lucas sprinted towards her, leaping rivers of flame and scorched ground, ducking beneath Ash’s flying sword, sliding onto his knees and drawing his blade across the Original’s hamstrings, sending him crumpling to the ground.
Before he could finish him off an arrow went slashing past his head, just an inch from his ear, and drove straight through the Original’s neck.
Flic’s eyes fell on Lucas and she grinned at him before she finished it off with a final blade thrust through the neck. Then she turned and ran towards Ash, blade raised, screaming death. Lucas spun at the same time, searching for Evie.
His eyes fell on her instantly. She was standing frozen in the middle of the lawn, flames leaping around her and smoke billowing in curtains. She was staring at him as though she was seeing a dead person rising from the grave – her face alabaster pale, her lips parted, his name brushing the edge of them. The noise of the battle faded, time seemed to slow to microseconds, whole lifetimes lived in the space between them.
Flic’s scream pierced through it all, shattering the stillness and bringing the world stampeding back in. Lucas spun around. Flic had fallen – was lying on the ground – and
an Original was kneeling over her, about to tear her throat out.
With a roar Lucas brought his blade up and charged towards them.
Chapter 57
It came out of nowhere – a hard punch to the stomach that blasted Evie off her feet. She slammed into the ground, the crossbow flying out of her hands. She clutched her abdomen, feeling fire, trying to suck in a breath through the flames. Gritting her teeth she tried to pull her blade free but she was lying on top of it and before she could roll or get her breath back a hand fisted in her hair and she was being dragged across the ground.
She grunted, her fingernails snagging in the dirt, her mouth filling with grass and soil. Her eyes were watering so badly she couldn’t see. She was suddenly yanked to standing and it was only then she realised it wasn’t an Original who had hold of her. It was Victor. His arm was wrapped around her neck, cutting off her screams, choking her airway.
Her eyes flashed wildly but the others were just a vague blur in the distance, shrouded by smoke. Her gurgled cries were muted by the roar of the flamethrower as Victor pulled her the last few metres towards the gateway, left unguarded as the others fought.
She should have killed him when she had the chance. That was the only thought she could muster. She’d known Victor would try something and yet she hadn’t quite believed he would. And she didn’t even know yet if Lucas was real. A blistering rage took hold of her. No. No way. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t going to do this. Not against her will and not like this, with everyone fighting around her, possibly even dying.
She twisted, breaking Victor’s grip, feeling a chunk of hair rip clean out of her scalp.
Victor swore and lunged at her. She dodged him, and landed a punch to his jaw which did nothing to stop him. He kept coming at her. She saw a blur at the edge of her vision and realised too late it was his foot.
The kick spun her 180 degrees. A second punch to her back sent her sprawling. The light was suddenly in her face, blinding her, rushing up at her. She was falling into the gateway, could feel the sparks of heat licking at her face.
Her arm practically tore out of its socket as she jerked to a stop. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting against the brightness. She was hanging suspended, leaning towards the gateway, the side of her face burning from the electric heat of it. Someone had her by the wrist, was pulling her upright.
The ground was tilting. And then she was standing. And Lucas was in front of her. And there was a dark shape on the ground behind him that had to be Victor, but she wasn’t even capable of figuring it all out. It was all she could do to just focus on what was in front of her.
It wasn’t possible. She blinked again. How could he be real?
But she could feel his hand, warm against the underside of her wrist. She could see the thin scar running across his temple and the strikes of amber gold at the edge of his irises. He looked more worn, tired; his hair was longer, his face harder somehow, but it was Lucas. The electric current she was feeling, the way her heart had started flying in her ribcage, batting to escape, was enough to convince her that what was in front of her, standing there, holding onto her, was not some figment of her imagination. He was real.
‘Lucas,’ she managed to say his name, her voice cracking.
‘Watch out!’
Lucas spun around, pulling her behind his back, shielding her. Victor was on his feet, was standing in front of him, a gun in his hand. The air stilled around them, thickened like tar. A scream filled Evie’s head.
When the shot came it tore through the stillness, shattering it like an earthquake. The ground shook, the noise of the impact echoing through every cell in Evie’s body.
Her knees went out from under her. She clutched at Lucas with deadened fingers, a sob welling in her chest as she grabbed his shoulders to keep him from falling – to stop him from fading. Not again. Please not again.
But he didn’t fade. He didn’t fall. He stayed solid beneath her fingertips. She drew a breath – so sharp it hurt, aware only of the tightening grip of Lucas’s hands on her own as he unlatched her fingers from his shoulders and pulled her around to his side.
It was only then, when she saw Victor lying on the ground before them, that her brain put together the jumbled pieces. Lucas wasn’t hurt. Neither of them had been shot. She stared in shock at Victor’s body for several seconds.
His limbs were splayed and his mouth was gaping open. He was staring up at the sky, a trickle of blood oozing lazily down his face. A smooth round hole was stamped like indelible ink on his right cheek.
Evie raised her eyes to the person standing over him. Selena was contemplating the body with a satisfied expression. In her hands she held a shiny semi-automatic. The flamethrower lay discarded at her feet. She reholstered the gun, then turned to Evie.
‘Guess Victor was wrong about bullets and guns,’ she said with a smirk. ‘Aren’t you going to at least thank me for saving your chicken ass?’
Evie could only stare at her in shock.
‘The guy was loco,’ Selena said with a dismissive shrug, ‘and that’s what we do with crazies where I come from.’ She threw an arm wide, gesturing at the smoking lawn. ‘We’re all done here. Seven dead Originals. One dead psychopath.’
Evie glanced around, seeing the smoking heaps on the lawn and hearing the whoops from Flic and the others, but not really noticing them. She turned back to Lucas who was still standing opposite her, staring at her, waiting.
For half a minute she just stood there, staring, then she threw herself against him, running her hands desperately over his chest, pressing against his neck, feeling the smoothness of his jaw, her fingers tracing the curve of his lips. Her hands were in a hurry to slide under his T-shirt, feel the warmth of him, press against his heart, feel the beat, know with absolute certainty that he was alive.
But then she drew back, realisation slowly dawning. He wasn’t smiling. His hands were hanging loosely at his sides, one still gripping his shadow blade. And his eyes – that was the worst of it – they were flat and cold and a million miles distant from here, staring right through her.
Her hands fell at once to her sides.
‘You’re alive,’ she said, feeling tears start to roll down her cheeks. ‘You’re alive.’
Chapter 58
She was crying.
‘You’re alive,’ she repeated, her voice hoarse and broken.
Lucas nodded.
‘You came back.’
Her bottom lip was trembling and he wanted to reach out and still it. He wanted to. But he couldn’t. Instead he just nodded. She looked like she might collapse. She was staring at him in amazement but now he saw confusion at his silence. He didn’t know what to do. Her fingers just then, tracing his lips, had lit a fragile hope in him that she did still feel something for him.
But he couldn’t forget the image of her lying on top of Cyrus.
‘I came back,’ he whispered softly, raising his hand and wiping away the tears that were sliding down her cheek without stopping to think about what he was doing.
She caught his hand in her own and brought it against her lips, kissing the palm so softly that he took a sharp breath in, as the ache in his chest sprang upwards and released. She looked up at him then and he felt the electricity coursing in currents between them.
He closed the distance, taking her face in his hands, and kissed her as he’d imagined kissing her every second of every day he’d been apart from her. He kissed her as if he’d once been a dead man and she had brought him back to life. He kissed her until he felt her legs give way and he had to pull her even tighter against his chest, until the air around them was sparking with static. And he kept kissing her even when Flic coughed loudly beside him.
And when he finally opened his eyes and looked into the deep, blazing blue of Evie’s he smiled, already knowing the answer, the truth of what she was feeling, of what he still was to her, seeing it reflected in her eyes.
There was no loss. There was only belonging.
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br /> Chapter 59
‘Screw fate.’
Cyrus felt the sword hanging heavy in his hand. Around him were piles of chargrilled Original. And Victor. Blood was still flowing down his arm and he thought he might be swaying still. Either that or the world was spinning extremely fast.
But he barely noticed. All he saw was her. Evie. Kissing the guy who needed a hair cut.
Lucas.
He knew it was Lucas, even though he couldn’t recall seeing him before. He looked like Flic. And Evie was kissing him as if …, well, as if he was someone who she’d thought was dead but who’d just waltzed back into her life.
‘It has to be fate. Because no matter what other people throw at them they always end up back with each other.’
He turned to Issa, ready to push her backwards into a steaming pile of Original. Only the look of sadness on her face pulled him up short.
He looked back at Evie and Lucas still kissing, as if the rest of them weren’t standing there picking up the pieces and wondering what to do about Victor’s body, and felt a shard of hot metal stab him in the heart. It made the pain in his arm fade away to almost nothing.
She’d almost been his. She would have been his if Mister Shadow Warrior with the haunted expression and the cheekbones you could sharpen knives on hadn’t shown up. And Evie was falling for this? He kicked the ground.
‘You’re going to be fine.’
It was Issa. Again.
Fine? He was going to be fine? He didn’t want to feel fine. He wanted to take this raging anger that was building inside him and go and project it onto something. He wanted to tear up the streets, finding every unhuman he could and project it onto them. That might do it. Might, just maybe, make him feel less angry.