Night Whispers: ShadowLands, Book 1 (22 page)

“Get. Up.”

“No.”

“I have known you as an addict, an eager pupil and a competent warrior,” he said softly. “But I have never known you to be a quitter.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she couldn’t tell if it was from hurt or the strain of keeping them open any longer. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“It is a matter of honor. You helped rescue me,” he said stiffly. “I am not a complete animal. I cannot repay you if you are dead.”

Oh. It shouldn’t sting that he would be doing the same for anyone who rescued him. It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t about her. “Consider my rescuing of you repayment of you rescuing me.”

He shook his head, impatience in every line of his body. “All I did back then was give you an excuse to live. You rescued yourself. Come.”

Jules swallowed. “I don’t feel real good,
güey
.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched as he stared down at her. He surprised her by falling to sit beside her on the road, arranging the adolescent in his arms. “If you stay, I will stay here as well. I need not pay back a debt to a dead person if I am dead too.”

She gaped at him. “You cannot be serious.”

“If you wish to become a midnight snack for the predators out there, I will join you.”

“Your honor means more to you than Carrie?”

His eyes flashed. “Sometimes there is nothing but honor. So, yes, I will stay here and we can all die. Let it be on your head.”

“You’re not a nice man.”

“I was, once. There is no room for nice men in this world.”

James.
“That’s not true.”

“Nice people die. And they allow others to die. You should be grateful I am not nice. Now, will you walk on your own accord, or shall I carry you?”

“I’ll walk.” She struggled to her feet, biting her tongue at the resulting dizziness. “But you need to not wait for me. If we find nothing, we have to figure out some way of making shelter for the night.” She cast an eye around the flat land. “I wish this area had more forests or trees.”

“The North is more arboreal. It would have made an excellent place to hide, had your vehicle decided to not give out on us.”

“It got us this far, didn’t it?”

“Yes. It brought us to all this loveliness.”

Her eyes narrowed on his broad back. Smart guy. He knew needling her was the best way to keep her on her feet. She was too busy thinking of comebacks to concentrate on her pain.

When she got to an incline, though, her body betrayed her. He paused a couple feet ahead of her and turned. The sun was dying behind him. For a second, her vision wavered, and she wondered at the fact that there were two of him.

“Keep going,” she said softly. “I won’t stop. I can’t go uphill very fast.”

He hesitated before giving a reluctant nod. He disappeared over the crest of the road, his silver head catching the last rays of sunlight.

One foot in front of another, she kept her head down and continued plodding. So focused was she on the rhythm of her boots on the pavement, she couldn’t register anything else.

Some distant corner of her mind recognized that her shoes and the path were getting harder to see. Yet, she didn’t fully equate that with the fact that dark had fallen until she heard the noise.

She stopped, swaying, and looked up.

The wind had picked up as night fell, and it whistled through the overgrown brush on either side of her. It was getting too chilly for birds, but an owl hooted faintly somewhere in the distance.

None of that mattered. The breathing, that familiar panting breathing, filled her mind, canceling out everything else.

She turned her head an iota to the left, and there it was, standing barely a hundred yards away in the wreckage of vegetation. A male Shadow, visible because his silver skin practically glowed in the darkness. His pigmentless eyes were locked on her.

Adrenaline pulsed through her, refreshing her woozy brain. Running was an option, but she knew she wouldn’t get far before he took her down like a lion chasing a gazelle. No, she would need to stand and fight.

He crept a step closer, and she shrugged her knapsack to the ground, figuring the freedom of movement couldn’t hurt. He came even nearer, his hallowed chest rising and falling faster. He looked like a starved animal scenting its first prey in a long time. There probably wasn’t a lot in the way of human snacks out here. Put a bow on her, and she could be his Christmas and birthday present.

She pulled her gun and pointed it. Her hand and the weapon shook, but there wasn’t much she could do about that.

He was coming closer, moving faster than she could track. Trying to make her mind as clear as possible, she waited until she was certain she would hit him, and pulled the trigger.

Missed.

He roared at the noise and ran faster. Clumsy, her finger pulled the trigger again.

The clicking noise made her heart stop. Her extra ammo was in the pack. No way she’d be able to rummage inside, reload and take another shaky try at him.

Erik.

But Erik wasn’t here and, frankly, wasn’t likely to come to her rescue. Fucking A, why was she always on her own?

You don’t need anyone.

No, she didn’t want to play the constant damsel in distress. But Christ, was it crazy for her to wish she had a hand? Just once? When she was sick and tired and traumatized?

Irrational anger filled her and she fed it. Anger at all the people who were always absent when she needed them the most. Her father, jetting before she was born. Her mother, leaving her to raise herself. Her homegirls, splitting at the first panic of the Illness. Erik, abandoning her after teaching her about real friendship and kindness and platonic love.

And finally, yes, even James. That anger was the most irrational and unfair of all, since he was on a suicide mission to reach her. But he wasn’t here now, was he? And she knew better than anyone how fickle love and loyalty could be. Even if he found her, there was no guarantee he would stand by her side forever.

Her mouth firmed, and she threw the useless gun aside. She was on her own. Which was just fucking fine.

Jules pulled her blade from her pocket, hitting the switch on the side, and waited for the attack. With an unholy shriek, the thing launched through the air at her, a blur of white skin and red veins.

She threw all of her remaining energy into delivering a kick hard enough to shove him back before he could get his hands on her. Though he looked weaker than most Shadows she’d encountered, it didn’t knock him to the ground. He growled and came at her anew. This time, she let him come closer, close enough for her blade’s reach.

She was aiming for his heart, but her aim was unsteady here too, and it stabbed him in the middle of his chest. She pulled the blade out. It dislodged with a vulgar sucking noise that turned her stomach.

Not surprisingly, the Shadow wasn’t pleased. He roared and rammed himself at her again. This time, he knocked her off balance.

The anger that had been powering her drained once she was on her back, leaving her weak and tired. The gravel of the path felt as soft as a bed to her tired muscles. Curling up and falling asleep was a very real possibility.

Despite your moment of melodrama back there, you did not come all this way to lie down in the gravel and get eaten. Suck it up, Girl Scout.

There was a knife in her free hand and a Shadow on top of her. This was an easy kill.

And then she could sleep.

That was some good motivation there.

Jules stabbed the Shadow in the back as his head was descending to her neck. He squealed and jerked up, the rankness of his breath making her want to heave. She pulled the knife out and stabbed him in his jugular. Blood sprayed over her. He gave a final rattling gasp, the blood gurgling, before slumping over her.

Her hand fell at her side. Her fingers hurt from clenching over the handle of the blade, but she could not let go. Not yet.

His blood was warm on her. She could feel it on her face and neck and clothes.

Footsteps.

No, she’d never been one to back down from a fight. But then, she’d never been quite as weak as this.

Jules closed her eyes and shrank under the Shadow’s body, wishing he had been larger. Would it fool another Shadow if she hid under a dead one’s body? Praying had never been her strong suit, but she prayed now.
Please God, not now. Hide me. I can take care of myself, I swear, but not right now.

The footsteps slowed as they came closer, and she cringed, ducking her head so her face was tucked into the dead Shadow’s neck. The blood from his wound was dripping on her cheek. She closed her mouth and eyes, hoping that would keep the tainted blood from entering her body. It had to come into contact with her blood to hurt her, she knew that, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

“Jules. Oh my God. Jules.”

Surely that panicked voice wasn’t Erik’s? Not stoic, angry, brooding Erik.

But it was. She opened her eyes when the Shadow was effortlessly lifted off her and tossed aside like garbage. Its body landed and disappeared into the brush.

He knelt beside her, his face grim. “Is any of that blood yours?”

She managed a shake of her head.

Erik released an imperceptible sigh. “I heard the gun. I thought…” He surprised her by gathering her close, not put off by the stiffening of her body. After picking up her knapsack, he rose to his feet.

She dared to open her mouth. “Carrie.”

“She’s fine.”

“Shelter near.” Jules was surprised by how weak her voice sounded. Part of that was because she was trying to speak through her teeth, lest the blood get in. “Shadow came so quickly after turned dark, musta come from shelter nearby.”

“I don’t know where he came from, but there’s a house less than two miles up the road. I left Carrie there and came back for you.”

“Checked it?”

“I checked to see if anyone was within, or if there had been signs of the same. It has been abandoned for some time.”

The dude had everything covered.

He glanced down at her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I left you.”

This was the most emotion he’d shown since they’d been reunited. Yet she wasn’t certain why he was sorry. “Could handle it.” Could? She had handled it. She didn’t need to depend on anyone.

Jules swallowed a yelp when he suddenly picked up speed. He wasn’t faster than a speeding bullet, but man the guy could run.

“Held you back.”

He glanced down at her, not slowing. There were lines of strain around his mouth. “No. When I burn lots of energy, I need it replaced. I cannot sustain this pace for a long period of time.”

The fire in her body combined with his dizzying speed made the rest of the trip pass in a blur of passing vegetation. Curiosity prompted her to make some note of their destination when they arrived. She received an impression of an old but sturdy farmhouse—at the least, it did seem to have a roof, walls and entrances which were intact. He took her inside, walking through a series of rooms before stopping. She panicked and held on to his neck when he stooped, as if to set her down. “Shower.”

“Are you sure?”

The Shadow’s blood had dried and crusted on her face. Tough chick she may be, but a shower was necessary. She nodded.

He juggled her in his arms and took her upstairs. She caught a glimpse of Carrie lying very still on a bed.

He entered the bathroom, kicked the toilet seat down and sat her on top of it. “Let’s hope the shower works.” Erik turned on the faucet. A trickle of brown water poured out. After a few clangs and surges, clear water began to run. “It’s cold.”

“Fine.”

Erik matter-of-factly stripped her clothes off. “I’m not looking.”

Like she cared. Modesty wasn’t as important as getting clean. “Dark, anyway.”

He didn’t respond, simply urged her to stand and step out of her panties and pants. She stepped inside the tub and sank down, unable to stay on her feet.

She expected him to let her lay there in the water, but instead he removed the handheld showerhead and directed the spray over her body, letting the water sluice away the worst of the dirt and blood and grime. His hand moving over her should have disturbed her, but the scent of roses told her woozy mind that his purpose was only to wash her with soap. The previous tenant of the house must have stocked the shower before dying or turning or abandoning ship.

He even shampooed her hair while she lay there like a helpless blob. Once it was clean, he lingered. She caught an indefinable expression on his face while he stared at her hair, his fingers shifting through the strands.

He noticed her watching him and dropped his hands. “I’m going to see if there’s a towel.”

He came back in a few minutes, holding neatly folded terrycloth. She’d had enough of the stinging ice-cold spray and felt, if not like a new person, at least a clean one, so she raised her hand. He immediately shut off the water and picked her up out of the tub.

After he’d dressed her like a boneless doll with blessedly clean clothes from her knapsack, he took her back downstairs, laying her upon something wonderfully soft.