Vanish (Firelight #2)(44)

She gives a small nod.

Curling steam wafts from my nose.

I part my lips, staring so hard at the door my eyes start to ache. There’s a thud followed by a sucking sound as the door pulls open. My heart clenches in my smoldering chest. Midday light pours inside the van in liquid-hot rays, momentarily blinding me. I don’t care though—can’t hesitate and lose my chance.

I reach deep, find smoldering heat where I feared none was left. Fire heats my windpipe, bursts free in a gust of flame. It’s enough.

The figure outlined in the afternoon light dives to the ground with a cry.

I jump from the van and manage to keep my balance on unsteady legs—especially hard to do with my hands and wings bound.

I bend down to search the hunter’s pockets for a weapon, something to cut into the binding on my wrists. And I freeze.

It’s not one of the several hard-eyed, black-clad hunters who trussed me up like a holiday goose and tossed me into the back of a van. It’s Will.

A sharp, strangled sound rises from the back of my throat. I choke his name, a sound he can’t possibly comprehend.

But he doesn’t need to understand. He knows. He’s here for me. That’s all that matters. And that I didn’t incinerate him.

He’s on his feet, sliding his hands up my trembling arms as if verifying that I’m real, that I’m before him. “Jacinda!”

Relief rushes over me. My adrenaline takes a dive, and the pain and weariness flood back, closing me in a clenching, unrelenting fist. I give in, collapse in his arms—let him rescue me, save me from his kind, from the agony that screams through every particle of my being.

Will carefully wraps an arm around me, looking over my shoulder at my strapped wings. I feel his wince as he takes measure.

Anxiety radiates from him, underlies his movements as he handles me, trying to guide me away from the van. His changeable eyes dart, scan the mostly vacant truck-stop parking lot.

I hold back, peer inside the van. “Miram,” I say, the urgency sharp in my voice. “Let’s go.”

She hovers in the far shadows, where the sunlight doesn’t reach, fiercely shaking her head side to side.

“Miram!” I repeat her name, sounding like a parent addressing a child that refuses to obey.

She shakes her head harder, her eyes fixed on Will. “I won’t go with him.”

“Don’t be stupid. He’s here to help us—”

“What if it’s a trap? What if he’s just tricking you into going along meekly, like a lamb to the slaughter?”

“Do you even know how ridiculous you sound? Why would they do that? We’re already their prisoners.” I move between the van’s open doors, beseeching her with my eyes. Still, she shakes her head, shrinks back against the far wall as if I were the threat. “You’ll risk remaining in this van rather than going with us?”

Will tugs on my arm. “Jacinda! They’ll be back any second. This is our only chance!”

“Miram, please,” I beg. “Trust me.”

She jerks her chin once at Will. “I don’t trust him.” Then her eyes fix steadily on me. “Or you.”

Anger sparks my blood. She doesn’t trust me. She’s the one who’s been spying on me!

Will’s voice falls hard near my ear. His fingers flex on my arm, no longer so gentle. “Jacinda, they’re coming!”

I go. Tearing myself away, I leave her.

But not without her wide, haunted eyes imprinted on my soul.





Chapter 19

Will drags me across the parking lot. It’s an odd sensation. Running in broad daylight in full manifest in the human world. Such a strange, forbidden thing. Anyone could see me.

Not that I have a choice.

It’s either stay in the van, a prisoner awaiting execution, or risk the fifteen-second dash to the shelter of the waiting woods. For me, it’s an obvious choice. Why couldn’t Miram see that, too?

Will and I dive into the thick growth of trees edging the parking lot. One moment cracked asphalt burns beneath my feet, the next it’s the yielding, whispering soil of the forest floor.

A sense of desolation rises up inside me, suffocating. I look over my shoulder as if I can see the van through the press of foliage.

I’ve left Miram. I’ve failed her. Failed Cassian.

I blink stinging eyes and tell myself it’s the sudden sunlight. The sweeping, incomprehensible pain hammering my body. Not this invading sorrow for the girl I left behind and what will become of her.

Will’s Land Rover isn’t far. He helps me inside. I prop myself on the passenger seat, mindful to sit forward. It’s impossible to lean back with my wings bound tight.

There’s a flash of light in Will’s hand and I realize he’s holding a knife. He swipes through my wrist ties and I sigh. Except the relief is brief, eclipsed as feeling rushes back into my hands in a searing flood of agony. I moan. Drop my head.

Will hands me a bottle of water and moves to check my back, his fingers gentle on my bare shoulders. I drink deep, noisily, water running down my chin and throat.

Over my gulps, I hear his sharp intake of breath as he saws through the bindings. “You’re hurt.” A curse follows this, humming with an anger I’ve never heard from him. And something else. Regret? Guilt?

“They shot my wing.” The words rumble from my throat. At the guttural sound, I remember he can’t understand me.