Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(83)

She rolled back onto her side, careful not to wriggle and cause the nets to tighten again. She had managed to loosen the nets. It wasn’t much, just enough so that she could touch her hands together. Forcing her breathing to remain deep and steady, she ran shaking fingers along the tool as she tried to figure out what it was.

It felt like a thick pocketknife, a fancy, complicated one. Maybe it was a Swiss Army knife. She dug her fingernails into one of the grooves and pulled on it. A blade emerged halfway before her hold slipped, and she sliced open a finger. Damn.

Mary? Michael said.

“I’m working on it,” she gritted.

The black diamond man strolled up the path to the clearing where the ruins of Astra’s cabin still blazed. Half a dozen bodyguards ringed him. He spoke into his headset. More guards joined his group. He was taking no chances with this meeting.

She resumed a frantic exploration of the knife, digging for grooves and pulling parts of it out. Where was that damn blade?

What was that one? Shit, it was a corkscrew. What she wouldn’t give for a stiff drink right now. In safety. She shoved it back in and pulled something else out.

What was that? Her questing fingertips found a sharp hook at the base of the section. She reversed the handle in her hands, located a strand of the net and sawed at it. She sliced through the strand.

Eureka. She grabbed another strand and attacked it.

As she worked, an upsurge of activity yanked her attention back to Michael. He fought a couple men, trying to work his way back to her. He seemed to be moving more slowly. Several more fighters raced to join the battle.

Why was Michael moving so slowly?

A couple of the newcomers shot him. The percussion of their weapons sounded strange. Michael didn’t seem to react with much pain. He shot one man point-blank in the face, kicked at another and lurched closer to her. More men poured into the space between them.

What is it? she shouted.

Drugged darts, he said. Even his telepathic voice sounded slurred.

She froze, breathing hard. Should normal human medication affect him like that? Michael had a finely developed sense of separateness between spirit and flesh. Tranquilizers might bring his body down, but psychically he should be as alert as ever. Something was terribly wrong.

At last she got her arms free. She turned onto her side and curled into a ball to attack the bindings on her legs. Inside she was screaming.

Slowed, drugged, Michael continued to fight. He remained lethal and on his feet long after a normal human would have collapsed. In a lunge, he came within a few yards of her. Two men tackled him and brought him down. Even as he twisted to stab one in the neck, more darts struck his neck and hands.

I’m sorry, he slurred.

You have nothing to be sorry for, she told him. Nothing.

He didn’t reply. His prone body went still.

Two more men darted forward to bind Michael’s arms and legs. The black diamond man waited in the clearing with his guards until they were finished. Then he strolled toward her, his elegant figure silhouetted by the blazing cabin behind him.

She froze. Could he see that she had cut partway through the tangle of net? She was lying on one of her arms. She shifted the knife to that hand and, using just her wrist, she surreptitiously worked at sawing through the strand of net that bound her calves.

“Hello, cookie,” said the man.

His voice was young and male. She had never heard it before but it still held a terrible familiarity. It was the voice from all her night terrors.

Still talking, he drew closer. “Michael’s body count is already at twenty-three. The amount of money and manpower that bastard has cost me is unbelievable. Well, it could be worse. Thank God for modern pharmaceuticals, huh? The drug in those darts is one of my own concoctions. I created it specifically for just such an occasion, and I’m glad to see it worked.”

“Did you kill him?” Her mouth shook. She didn’t recognize her own voice and she couldn’t sense Michael’s energy. She had almost cut through the strand.

“Not yet. The amount of sedative he took would have knocked out a giraffe. I would have preferred talking to both of you at the same time, but it is impossible to reason with Michael. There’s nothing you can do except shoot him like a rabid dog. Sometimes that can be kind of sexy, but it’s so damn infuriating. Personally, I always thought you could do better. Just because he’s your soul twin doesn’t mean he has to be your lover.” His footsteps stopped by her head. “Know what I mean?”

She froze, her breathing coming in quick, shallow pants. She clutched the knife in a death grip. During my summer on the beach, she thought, my summer off . . .

The black diamond man bent over her. The unspeakable nightmare whispered in her ear, “All right, cookie. Where is the bitch?”

She said in that stranger’s raw voice, “She left us. She was gone when we woke up.”

“I think she’s still close,” he said. “What do you think?”

“I swear I don’t know anything,” she gasped. “I swear it.”

Something exploded in the bay.

The black diamond man leaped to his feet. Five others in quick succession followed the first explosion. Deep booming concussions shook the trees, all sounding from different points around the island. Light flared from beyond the tree line, an incandescent necklace of destruction.

“Jesus f**k,” someone said.