Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(82)

She realized something else as well. It was actually possible to be terrified and bored at the same time. She sighed. It was time for her to see what she could do to help.

Slipping out of her body really was a clever trick. She sat up and glanced down at her body with a grimace. From the hips down she was still connected to her physical self. She could still feel the binding of the nets cutting off the circulation in her legs, and the cold dampness of the ground. Apparently she was only partly astral.

She looked around, surprised to find the psychic realm clean of dark spirits. It carried hints of Lake, and forest, and healthy land, all of what she would have expected to find. Perhaps Astra’s influence still lingered. Whatever the reason, Mary was grateful Michael didn’t have to battle spirits.

She sought out Michael’s presence. He hadn’t gone far. He was in the process of stalking two men.

Three more were stalking him.

She pulled the rest of the way out of her body and rushed at the three men. Concentrating mightily, she managed to scoop up handfuls of leaves to throw in their faces. Two of them flinched in surprise. The third tapped at his headset as if it had suddenly stopped working.

She paused, cocked her head and watched the man. Did her presence cause static?

Suddenly Michael was there. In a flurry of action too fast for her to follow, he killed all three men. His body bore a light sheen of sweat. He had removed his mask. She could see the calm executioner in his face and noted with relief he had yet to take any wounds.

What are you doing? he asked.

Unable to resist the hot illumination of his presence, she flitted toward him, a moth to the flame. I got tired of waiting for you. I thought you could use some help.

He laughed softly. I’ll try to be a little faster, shall I?

I wouldn’t mind. He crouched and sprang somewhere. Disoriented, she looked around. She found him standing high in the limbs of an old oak tree. As he surveyed the shadowed area for oncoming attackers, she floated up to join him. Michael, I think my astral presence disrupts radio signals. Do you want me to try to mess up their communications?

His head snapped up. His eyes flared with what looked like panic. NO!

The force of his reaction blew her like a feather out from him. She didn’t gain control of her position until she had drifted down several branches, and she concentrated on floating back up beside him. Why not?

He listened intently at his stolen headset, tapped the earpiece, then he whispered out loud, “Mary, the Deceiver is controlling their communications. If you can disrupt the radio signals of the men in our immediate area, fine, go ahead and do it. For pity’s sake, stay close to your body, and remember he might overhear telepathy.”

I understand. She floated back down to the ground.

Searching the immediate area, she found armed black-clad men and rushed at them. She caused their headsets to erupt with an unexpected crackle of static, or startled them with an explosion of leaves, or made them flinch at strategic times when she trailed ghostly fingers along their bare skin. Once she managed to rock the aim of one rifleman who had Michael in his sights. That took a gargantuan effort.

After several minutes of frenetic activity, she shook with strain. She knew she couldn’t continue for much longer, yet she was unwilling to give in to exhaustion. Their attackers tightened in a circle around her and Michael like a hangman’s noose.

Their fight felt hopeless. There were so many attackers. Michael had killed, what, fifteen already? There had to be over a hundred or more.

But she had thought their battle at the cabin was hopeless. She had been convinced at Petoskey that she wouldn’t live to set foot on a boat. She had no real sense of Michael’s limits. When he had run up the side of the building at Petoskey’s marina? Boy howdy, she hadn’t seen that coming.

She turned her attention back to her body. She could affect the physical realm if she concentrated hard enough. Frantic to get rid of the hood, she threw everything she had into pulling at it. With an immense effort, she managed to yank it off her face.

Then she attacked the tight nylon bonds, plucking fiercely at the stubborn strands. If she could loosen the loops around her arms, she would have some freedom of movement once she slipped back into her body.

How long could she afford to stay out of her body? Would it kill her if she remained astral for too long, or would she simply snap back into her body?

Then something reverberated through the psychic realm that struck past faith and hope, and filled her with unreasoning terror.

The black diamond man stepped onto the island.

She lost control of her astral projection and slammed back into her body. Deprived of physical movement, drained of psychic strength and helpless, she whimpered, a panicked animal sound.

I have just one question for you, Mary, Mary, said the Deceiver. How can one small person make so much noise?

Sweat trickled down her ribs. Michael was caught in battle. God only knew where Astra was. She couldn’t do anything. She had no more magic tricks to pull out of her hat. She could only wait and watch while hell approached.

Something struck her back. She jerked and cried out. It took her a moment to realize that the blow had not hurt her. Something had fallen and bounced off her back.

It’s a present, Michael said. Work fast.

Michael had thrown something at her. Work fast at what? Rolling over, she landed on something cold and hard. Arching her body and twisting, she groped for the cold, hard thing and closed her fingers around a handle. It was some kind of tool.