Magic Stars (Grey Wolf #1)(16)

“Adams did something,” Julie whispered. “There is a blue stain of magic on the trap. It’s faint and hard to see, but I’ve got it now. It’s not witch magic; it’s something else. Something really old. The whole field is seeded with them. Let me take the point.”

They were sitting ducks out there. The faster they went through, the better.

He nodded.

A whine tore through the air, and a sharp spike of pain punched into his chest, exploding into white-hot, mind-numbing agony. Silver. The poison bloomed inside him, the agony ripping at him, spreading too fast. He didn’t waste time glancing at the wooden shaft protruding from above his heart. Dropping flat would do no good. No cover.

The second arrow whined, only half a second behind the first. He thrust himself in front of Julie. It sank into his stomach. Silver exploded inside him. The detonation of hurt almost took him to his knees.

“Run!” she yelled at him.

If he tried to run back, they would be finished. Too much open ground behind them. They had to run forward, toward the bowman and to the shelter of the brick walls. If he pulled Julie behind him, she couldn’t keep up. If he carried her in front of him, she would get shot. All of this flashed in his head in a torturous instant. He dropped, his back to her, grabbed her legs, shoved her on his back, and dashed forward to the ruins just as the third arrow sliced into the ground where he’d stood a moment ago. That was the only way the bulk of his body could shield her.

“Right!”

He turned right, sharp, almost falling, and sprinted. The pain ate at him from the inside, devouring his innards with burning fangs.

Another arrow whined and missed.

“Left! More left! Right! Straight!”

He shot out of the field of leaves into the shelter of a brick wall and smashed into it, unable to stop himself. The old bricks shuddered but held. He barely felt the impact. The fire inside him consumed all other pain. The silver poisoning spread as the virus that nourished his body died in record numbers. His legs shook, and he couldn’t stop the trembling. The pain was spreading too fast. The arrows had been coated with silver powder.

He grasped the arrow shaft in his chest, focused on the brilliant spike of agony inside him, and pushed, forcing his dying muscles to obey. Julie’s hand closed over his. He let go, and she pulled the arrow gently, carefully. His body fought him, trying to escape the pain. The world hovered on the edge of blackness. He snarled. The white spike vanished.

“Next,” she said, grasping the second arrow, but he was already pushing with clenched teeth. It came free, but the suffering remained.

“Derek?” She looked into his eyes.

“Powder,” he ground out.

Her face went white.

They had to move. They were too exposed here, and the shooter knew exactly where they’d fallen. He forced himself to his feet.

“Wait.” She dug in her bag.

“No time.” He pulled her up and leaned to glance around the wall. The night was empty. He moved, running quiet and fast. The silver burned its way through his veins. There was no time to expel it now. His body would either overcome it or die trying.

He ducked into the shadows, weaving his way through the maze of half-walls, aware of Julie next to him. They had to get to shelter, a higher ground, somewhere he could collapse for the few minutes he’d need to bleed himself. Somewhere hidden.

He smelled pungent smoke of burning herbs, too layered to parse into components. A thicker odor, dirty and hot, overlaid it. Some sort of animal, and more than one. Three, no four distinct scent trails, and below it all another scent. He took a whiff of it and recoiled. The scent was pure fear. It hit him deep in the gut, squeezing. He breathed in shallow quick breaths, trying to get a grip against the thought-killing primal panic.

Julie gasped. He turned. They’d come far enough to see around the corner of the larger wall. Beyond it, in a clearing, a circle smoldered on the ground, the scorched ground still smoking. Julie moved toward it before he could stop her. The revolting scent grew thicker. He followed, trying to shut down the terror snarling in his mind. The wall on their right ended, and Julie darted across the space. He cursed inwardly and followed.

She knelt by the circle, sheltered from view by the corner of the building. Charms and bundles of herbs hung from the bricks, each strung by a wet thread that smelled like flesh.

A wooden pole rose from the ground just outside the circle. Dead animals hung on it, each nailed to the wood with a long iron nail. A rat, a squirrel, a cat, and above them a wolf head smeared in fresh blood. Above the head, an arrow protruded from the wood. The arrowhead looked crude, almost ancient.

The wolf head stared at him with dead eyes, as if saying, “Hey buddy. Don’t fret. You and I are the same. There’s no pain where you’re going.”

Great. He had to bleed himself before the pain dragged him under or he started seeing things that weren’t there.

“He summoned something,” Julie whispered, her eyes wide. “He killed a wolf and summoned something very old.”

He pointed at the herbs. “Are those wolf guts?”

“Yes.”

A deep eerie howl rolled through the ruin. He jerked. Run! Run now! He had to go. Dogs were coming and they would run him to ground. He was in the open, exposed, but he could outrun them if only he ran now, fast and hard, into the woods. . . .

Julie grabbed his face with her fingers. “Look at me,” she whispered, her words urgent and fast. “Look at me!”