Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(91)

Sunlight was hurt, but he was fast.

Very fast.

He ducked under her next swing and punched Dana in the stomach with his left hand and then tried to drive the knife into her chest. But Dana flung herself backward and down, trying to back-roll like she had been taught in jujutsu, flubbed it, rolled like a flat tire, and crashed into a table filled with charms and jewelry, which rained down on her. Sunlight staggered to his feet and started toward her, but then jerked to a stop. He looked down in surprise to see Angelo, more than half-dead, clutching his ankle with one bloody hand.

Sunlight gave him a contemptuous sneer. “You could have been one of us, too, boy. Such power. Such potential. Such a waste.” He raised his other foot and stamped down on the bullet-torn shoulder. Angelo began to howl but then abruptly collapsed back. Unconscious or dead, Dana could not tell.

So she threw the chunk of quartz at Sunlight and hit him squarely between the shoulders. It sent the man catapulting forward, crashing into another pair of display tables, where he collapsed with books and more crystals hammering him into the floor.

But again he rose, sweeping the debris away with a furious backhand swipe.

“Enough!” he roared. His face was a mass of blood, and one eye was beginning to puff shut. He rose into a crouch, the knife in his hand, the edge gleaming with silver fire. “I gave you a great gift, girl, and I took a terrible risk to do it. I should hand you over to the men who run this little science project of a town. You think I’m a monster? They’re so much worse.” He grinned with bloody teeth. “You have no idea what’s in store for you. Or … what would have been in store for you. You’ll never find out. I will send you screaming into the darkness.”

He slashed at her with the knife, and Dana felt the tip draw a burning line—hot as flame—across her stomach. She stumbled backward several steps. The pain was incredibly intense, and for a moment she stared down through torn cloth at the blood that welled from a long cut.

“God…,” she murmured. Half a statement of shock, half a prayer.

Sunlight laughed and raised the knife and advanced on her, slashing at her throat.

“No!” screamed Corinda, and she snatched up a small table and flung it at Sunlight, craft jewelry and all. The table caught Sunlight on the side of the head and knocked him down. Then she grabbed Dana’s wrist.

“Let’s go,” she yelled, and pulled her toward the door. Dana resisted at first, wanting to finish this, but Sunlight was already getting up. Could nothing stop the man? What was he?

He bared his teeth like a wolf and began moving toward them.

Dana and Corinda ran, leaping over fallen tables as they fought to reach the door. Dana had no idea how seriously she was hurt, but she could still move. She was still alive.

Despite everything, Corinda pushed Dana out first and turned to block Sunlight’s way. The knife flashed, and she went down with a cry as sharp and high as a seagull’s. But even as she fell, she wrapped her arms around Sunlight’s waist to try to slow him down.

“Run…,” she wheezed. “Dana … run.”

Dana ran.

Her heart was broken, but she ran.

She wanted to stand and fight, to beat this man, to crush him. To kill him. But she did not think he could be beaten.

And so she ran. She felt blood running down under her clothes.

She heard him running behind her.

Fast. Despite everything, so fast.

Catching up before she was even halfway across the street. In the windows of the darkened store on the other side, she could see the reflection of her own body running and the man behind her, so close, reaching out with one hand to grab, holding a bloody knife with the other.

Suddenly, headlights dazzled her and there was a car. Right there. Horn blaring. The engine roaring but no sound of squealing brakes. The car was accelerating toward her.

She heard the awful crunch.

But it was not her body that was lifted and flung through the air. Dana staggered, tumbled, fell. She sprawled in the street, inches from the far curb, and turned, her whole body a mass of pain, and saw Sunlight strike the parked cars on the far side. Saw the car that hit him finally brake, skid and crash into one of the parked cars.

She knew that car.

It made no sense, but she knew it.

She heard doors open, and figures silhouetted against the headlights. A slim figure coming from the driver’s side, a bulky figure emerging from the passenger side. A smaller figure coming out of the backseat.

They ran toward her.

“Dana!” cried Melissa.

“Oh my God,” cried Mom.

“No, no, no,” moaned Dad as they surrounded her, gathered her in, held her safe.

In the doorway across the street stood Corinda, one hand clamped to her bleeding side. On the ground, sprawled like a scarecrow, was Sunlight. His fingers opened and closed, opened and closed. Still alive.

But he wasn’t getting up.

Then there was a new sound. A wail. And lights. Red and blue. People. More faces. She looked up and saw Uncle Frank and Detective Simpson. She saw other deputies. She saw people. Far above the street, she saw lightning flash in the sky, painting the edges of the storm clouds with white fire.

Mom held her close and Dad bent to kiss her head, and Melissa held her hand.





CHAPTER 83

Scully Residence

April 10, 5:11 P.M.