Languish by Alyxandra Harvey Page B

paused.
    She’d survive being Tasered, but not the dawn.
    I’d have to bring her with me.
    â€œShit,” I said. “This is just the worst night ever.”
    I approached her carefully, nudging her with the toe of my boot. She lay still, pale and slight. “If you bite me, I’m biting you back,” I muttered, crouching down to lift her up. When she didn’t open her eyes and try to eat me, I felt marginally better. I dragged her awkwardly toward the van and stuffed her into the front seat. “If you wake up cranky, I’m so Tasering you again.” I ran around to the driver’s seat. “I’ve already blown up a town tonight, so don’t think I won’t.”
    The bats, angered, dive-bombed me. I tucked my head into my collar and ran faster, hollering. The screaming didn’t scare the batsoff but it made me feel better. I felt one catch in my hair, then bounce off my shoulder.
    â€œI really hate everybody right now,” I said, diving into the front seat. I yanked the door handle just as another bat hit the glass. Solange was slumped next to me. I kept the Taser in my right hand, contorting to start the van with my left. Kieran shifted in the backseat. “Don’t die,” I told him sternly.
    He tried to chuckle but it turned into a wet gurgle. I hit the gas pedal and peeled out of the field, kicking up clods of dirt and grass.
    â€œDon’t wake up,” I chanted at Solange. “Don’t wake up.”
    The bats followed us like a black, leathery cloud. Their eyes were red when they dipped down into the spear of the headlights.
    â€œDon’t wake up,” I said again. “And don’t be such a stereotype.
Bats.
God.”
    They were so thick now, it was hard to see. I prayed really hard that I wouldn’t drive us right into a tree. I craned my neck. The Taser was heavy, making my wrist ache. A bat hit the windshield, cracking it like a rock. Blood smeared the glass.
    â€œI’m sorry!” I yelled. “Get out of my way, you stupid flying rodents.”
    Another hit, and another. A crack snaked through the windshield. Fur and blood matted in the fissure. Bile burned the back of my throat.
    Solange stirred.
    I jabbed the Taser at her but she was faster. She dodged out of the way. The van wobbled precariously as I fought to keep hold ofthe steering wheel. Kieran was passed out in his own blood. Solange glanced back at him and licked her lips. It was a tiny moment of distraction and likely the last one I’d get. I stabbed the Taser at her again. It glanced off her shoulder, but it was enough to freeze her, her face contorting.
    â€œI’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeated over and over as I slammed on the brakes. She flew into the dashboard. I reached over her while she was still stunned and opened the passenger door.
    Then I shoved her out as hard as I could into the grass.
    She sprawled, bats circling overhead like vultures. I sped away with the door still open, banging against tree branches. The smell of pine and cedar mixed with Kieran’s blood. I looked into the rearview mirror. Solange sat up slowly.
    I hit the gas harder.

A Note on the Author
    ALYXANDRA HARVEY is the author of The Drake Chronicles—
Hearts at Stake, Blood Feud, Out for Blood, Bleeding Hearts
, and
Blood Moon
—as well as two stand-alone novels,
Haunting Violet
and
Stolen Away
. She studied creative writing and literature at York University and has had her poetry published in magazines. Alyx likes medieval dresses and tattoos and has been accused of being born in the wrong century—except that she really likes running water, women’s rights, and ice cream. She lives in an old Victorian farmhouse in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, their dogs, and a few resident ghosts.
    www.alyxandraharvey.com
    www.thedrakechronicles.com
    www.facebook.com/thedrakechronicles

Also by Alyxandra Harvey
    The Drake