Race the Darkness (Fatal Dreams, #1)(74)
Revulsion squirmed underneath King’s skin like freshly hatched maggots.
Slowly, laboriously, she stood, cradling her broken arm close to her body. She swayed on her feet. Good thing he hadn’t planned on her walking the two miles to his car. She wouldn’t have made it.
He motioned with the gun, and she walked past him in the direction he indicated. He followed, holstering his weapon and unclipping the stun gun from his waist. He flipped the switch and pressed it into her shoulder. A squeak of pain and surprise slipped from her. She melted to the ground, sprawling on her broken arm. He couldn’t help it; he grimaced, knowing how badly that had to have to hurt.
“The pain will all be gone in a moment.” He knelt next to her and pulled the syringe from his pocket, pushed the needle into her neck, and depressed the plunger. The drug should take effect before she recovered from the electrical charge.
Quiet tears slid down her cheeks. Her eyes were the only part of her face not covered in blood. They were big and luminous, like one of those cartoon princesses, but unlike make-believe, they reflected sorrow and suffering and a soul ravaged by real evil. So much pain carried by one small woman. It wasn’t natural. Or right.
He couldn’t help it. Compassion ached in his throat. He wanted to say something to make things better. It had always been his job to offer comfort and solace to those who were hurting. Now was no different. Despite the blood, despite the evil, he wiped her tears with his fingers.
The moment his skin touched hers, he remembered she would burn him. Only this time she didn’t. And wait. He had grabbed her bare arms when she was helping the man out of the truck. He hadn’t even thought about it. She hadn’t burned him then either.
Evil had departed from her soul, leaving her…just her.
Optimism, delicate as dragonfly wings, fluttered in his heart. This changed everything. Everything. Every moment he’d spent on his knees in prayer had led to this. A miracle. She was free. And he owed it all to Chosen One and the Lord. Chosen One had been the one to suggest that the ancestor and the Dragon’s evil might be linked. Killing the ancestor had saved the girl.
He reached out and settled his hand on her head—just like his father used to do to soothe his upset. “Go to sleep. Everything will be better when you wake.”
In a soft, low lullaby voice he began singing his favorite hymn.
Devout is my soul,
When all the world looks on.
Pure is my will,
When sinners cry my wrongs.
Calling me to the Lord’s Brigade.
Calling me to the Lord’s Brigade.
Lord, will you take me,
A soldier in the midst
Of earthly evils,
When devils whisper to me?
Calling me to the Lord’s Brigade.
Calling me to the Lord’s Brigade.
Cleanse my heart, oh mighty One.
I’ll fight for you, oh mighty One.
Blood in your name, oh mighty One,
When I must stay strong.
Calling me to the Lord’s Brigade.
Calling me to the Lord’s Brigade.
Her eyes slipped shut. Her body relaxed into the drug.
The sirens were all around them. Under the shrieking noise, he heard the rumble of gravel under tires. They were coming up the driveway. Would they see where the truck went over the side?
He wanted to pray over her, but now was not the time for prayer. It was the time for action. Using her good arm, he hauled her up and over his shoulder and then began a slow jog through the dark forest. Any sound he made was hidden by the sirens still blaring on and on.
Her body jostled against his, her head and arms slapping and smacking his back. He didn’t want to think about how holding her in this position was further damaging her broken arm. Couldn’t be helped. He followed a barely discernible animal trail, brambles and bushes grabbing at them both.
He’d spent many a night out in nature. Had found that communing with God’s creation comforted him. But tonight the forest seemed dead. Dead quiet. Where were the peepers and crickets? The only sounds were of his footfalls and the fading emergency sirens. To be so surrounded by the natural world and hear only man-made noises was odd.
It felt like forever and no time had passed when he finally emerged next to his car. He’d hidden the vehicle two miles from the property on an isolated dirt road. He’d learned from his mistake of parking too close. That had nearly gotten him caught the night he killed the ancestor.
A dog howled in the distance. A pet? Or a scent dog? Didn’t really matter now.
Oh, so gently, he settled the Dragon in the passenger seat, draping her broken arm across her body, but it kept sliding. He shouldn’t take the time for this, but he couldn’t leave her injured. He stripped off his outer shirt and tied it around her neck in a makeshift sling. By the dome light, he saw the area just above her elbow swelling. He threaded her hand into the sling, adjusting the fit until her joint was stabilized. The best he could do for the moment.
He got behind the wheel and drove. The car’s headlights illuminated an unfamiliar world of winding, hilly, remote back roads. Where he lived, the land was absolutely flat. The night scenery here was eerie and beautiful at the same time. So much like the Dragon had been.
They passed no other vehicles. If it weren’t for the occasional solitary house with its lights on, King would’ve sworn they were the only two people on earth. He reached over and pressed his fingers into her neck, searching for a pulse, wanting to make certain she didn’t have an adverse reaction to the drug.