Page 92 of Heart and Soul
“Watch it!” Hillerman shouts, spinning to fire past my shoulder. I see a streak of movement, too fast to be human. The vampire both crashes into me and lifts me up into the air at the same time. We slam down on top of the cargo hold, and as he wrestles against my flailing limbs, I catch glimpses of Capra’s golden boy hair and leather jacket with popped collar. His supernaturally strong grip pins my arms. I have time to register the horrifying sight of his chin with the black stripe running down it before the revenant opens his mouth wide and buries his fangs in my neck, growling with satisfaction. The deep puncture seizes my nervous system, making my whole body go stiff as a board.
It’s over so quickly. I’m still opening my mouth to scream when he tears his mouth from my throat and shoves off from me, gone in a flash. My mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out.
There’s no pain. Not yet. There’s only a heavy and overwhelming dread, a realization that we can’t win this time. There’s too many of them, too many leaks in the dam—not enough fingers to plug the holes. Hillerman is retreating, Russo is badly injured, maybe dying, and Jay is going down into the cargo hold alone, where he’ll be trapped.
And me? I’m…I’m having a hard time thinking straight. It’s hard to explain, but I can feel the complexity of my emotions dissipating, replaced by primal instincts—my fox taking over with its black and white reflexes: fight or flight. And fight is out of the question. My fox will flee.
I’ll shift. I’ll run away.
I don’t want to, but I’ll have to. The reflex is too strong, triggered by the vampire bite burning at my neck. Shifters aren’t turned by a vampire bite. Untreated, it will slowly kill me, like poison.
Claws extend from my fingertips. My desperate pleas to resist, to stay here, to keep fighting, now feel detached, as though another person is shouting at me. A shiver ripples up and down my spine. Here it comes.
There’s a sudden rumble in the ground as the cargo hold beneath me begins to open. Rolling onto hands and knees, I shake off a bout of dizziness to focus my eyes on the domed roof. It has split down the middle, revealing a dark chasm that grows wider and wider.
I shake my head again, trying to cut through the fog in my mind.The cargo hold is opening, I say to myself.They got inside. They found the controls. They’re opening the cargo hold roof. I know why. Don’t I?
I need to shift.
No, I command myself.Don’t. Not yet. The doors are opening. They can get to Arael from above. But it’s three stories down. Too far.
I have to shift.
Too far. Too high. Impossible.
I feel my body ripple again—here it comes.
No! Not impossible. Not for her.All at once, my mind grabs hold of a complete thought. The doors are opening for Beyona. She’ll swoop down from the sky, easy pickings.
Raising my eyes to the night sky, my fear is confirmed. Against the backdrop of gray clouds, a dark shape streaks toward the opening chasm.
My next thought is the last:Jay is down there.
I pop up and run—sideways at first, but quickly correcting my course, dashing straight for interception. The roof continues to roll back, carrying me away with it. I dig deep, pushing my legs harder, faster. I lean forward so far that if my legs weren’t propelling me, I’d fall flat on my face. The harpy drops into a vertical dive, gaining speed. I don’t even have time to recalculate my trajectory. Reaching the edge of the chasm, I hurl myself across it like a missile.
I only have brief flashes of memory after that. The world spinning. My stomach flopping in another long freefall. Black feathers in my face. My claws digging into porcelain white skin. A terrifying shriek.
I don’t remember hitting the floor, but I know we have, because the last thing I see is Jay. He’s shouting at me with no sound. The world has stopped spinning, but it’s now at a weird angle—sideways. I see Jay’s frightened eyes locked on mine before he is eclipsed by enormous black wings.
I hear a deafening sound that might be a gunshot, or it might just be the sound of me blacking out.
I awaken to the sound ofa flatline from a heart monitor. It’s a hospital sound, but I’m not in a hospital. And I’m not dead. Slowly, like a computer restarting, my brain spins up, recalling events, scanning my body for serious injuries, assessing my surroundings. I’m still in the cargo hold. Its roof is open. I see clouds lit gray by the moon.
Hillerman crouches in front of me, turning her head sideways to match mine. “Don’t try to move.”
“How long—” I cough, which causes a shooting pain in my ribs. “How long was I out?”
“Not long. Thirty seconds. I just got down here.”
I wince with the effort of trying to comprehend.Thirty seconds. That can’t be right. It’s too quiet. There’s no battle raging. “It’s over?”
“For now.”
I close my eyes. I feel like I could sleep for a week.
“The Agency’s on their way. Nick’s bringing healers, so just sit tight.”
My mind flashes with an image of Russo on the ground, bleeding. Seems like it was weeks ago, but I guess it’s only been a few minutes. “Russo,” I rasp.
