directly below us and send me scrambling for my bow. Within seconds I have an arrow strung and ready before I can zero in on the shooter.
“Hide!” I shriek at Irkalla.
There’s a faint “pop” and she’s gone, an oily, green, swirling bubble hovers in her place. Her thoughts fade from my mind as I push a branch quietly aside, searching the ground below for the hunter. Black boots crunch through the bed of leaves. It’s possible that Irkalla even healed my hearing. It sounds like the walker is right next to me. Then I catch a second person on the other side of the trees. The two are heading right for each other. I recognize the second pair of hikers as being Jonathan’s shoes. I remember him standing on the boulder like a god, immortalized in a bath of sunlight…
Oh, my God! What just happened? My breathing labors in and out as I regain my focus watching the hunter approach. And Jonathan, unknowingly, walks straight toward him. My heart catches, skipping three beats, as the glint off a balding head moves into the clearing.
My blood slows to icy gel in my veins.
The chaos below me plays out in slow motion and seems no more real than a scene on a movie screen. Corduroy raises his hand and fires into the trees. Jonathan covers his head and ducks behind a tree. Three charred corpses litter the earthen floor. My eyes shoot to the surrounding trees. Hundreds of multicolored Khayal flutter in the branches. I can see them all, the colored ones that are bound to humans and the jet black ones that have no color at all because they have no soul to guard. It’s like a beautiful Christmas tree lit up and waiting for a celebration. But this is nothing to rejoice in.
Corduroy is on the hunt and he’s pretty good at feeling them. He knows he’s found a hive.
There’s a split second of stillness when I consider who I should save—the Khayal or Jonathan? Then the horror rages on as Cord’s Glock fires at the nearby maple a second time. Most of the Khayal scatter into bubbles, but one orange and two black shrivel and die on a bed of needles twenty yards from the base of this tree.
No! Don’t hurt them—don’t hurt them. They’re good! I swing down the limbs without thinking.
“Stop!” I leap the last eight feet, landing steadily and raising my bow in one fluid motion. I aim it directly at my partner’s chest.
“Donavan, what the hell are you doing? And why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on some fancy assignment?” The over-muscled cue ball smiles at me, confused by my sudden appearance.
“Put your weapon down, Cord and return to base,” I plead, holding back angry tears as a battle wars inside me. Save the Khayal, save Jonathan and save Cord.
“Drop the bow, Lindy. Have you lost your mind?” A familiar voice orders from behind me.
I snap into agent Donavan mode and track Martin from the corner of my eye. Her crossbow is trained on my right ear, but I don’t lower my weapon just yet. “Why don’t you go home and play with your dolls, Martin?”
“You are so fired, you know that?” Martin hisses.
Wait. Martin doesn’t know? She still thinks I’m a hunter?
I glance at Cord, his dark brows knit together in confusion. He doesn’t know either? I’m stunned that he’s not privy to the fact that SEEK sent me to Ops to dispose of me, to let me die.
I whirl back to Martin as she begins to prowl, positioning herself for the kill.
“You think you’re so hot, stomping around here with your bad attitude and your untouchable record of kills. I’ve got news for you, Donavan! I’m Corduroy’s partner now, and it turns out your record isn’t that untouchable. I think you’re a fake and you’ve been stealing Cord’s kills all along.” Jealousy oozes from every feature on her delicate face.
I don’t care. I don’t want the record number of kills. It makes me feel sick all over again. The word “monster” echoes in my head.
“ You are a good person ,” Irkalla’s thoughts come
“Hide!” I shriek at Irkalla.
There’s a faint “pop” and she’s gone, an oily, green, swirling bubble hovers in her place. Her thoughts fade from my mind as I push a branch quietly aside, searching the ground below for the hunter. Black boots crunch through the bed of leaves. It’s possible that Irkalla even healed my hearing. It sounds like the walker is right next to me. Then I catch a second person on the other side of the trees. The two are heading right for each other. I recognize the second pair of hikers as being Jonathan’s shoes. I remember him standing on the boulder like a god, immortalized in a bath of sunlight…
Oh, my God! What just happened? My breathing labors in and out as I regain my focus watching the hunter approach. And Jonathan, unknowingly, walks straight toward him. My heart catches, skipping three beats, as the glint off a balding head moves into the clearing.
My blood slows to icy gel in my veins.
The chaos below me plays out in slow motion and seems no more real than a scene on a movie screen. Corduroy raises his hand and fires into the trees. Jonathan covers his head and ducks behind a tree. Three charred corpses litter the earthen floor. My eyes shoot to the surrounding trees. Hundreds of multicolored Khayal flutter in the branches. I can see them all, the colored ones that are bound to humans and the jet black ones that have no color at all because they have no soul to guard. It’s like a beautiful Christmas tree lit up and waiting for a celebration. But this is nothing to rejoice in.
Corduroy is on the hunt and he’s pretty good at feeling them. He knows he’s found a hive.
There’s a split second of stillness when I consider who I should save—the Khayal or Jonathan? Then the horror rages on as Cord’s Glock fires at the nearby maple a second time. Most of the Khayal scatter into bubbles, but one orange and two black shrivel and die on a bed of needles twenty yards from the base of this tree.
No! Don’t hurt them—don’t hurt them. They’re good! I swing down the limbs without thinking.
“Stop!” I leap the last eight feet, landing steadily and raising my bow in one fluid motion. I aim it directly at my partner’s chest.
“Donavan, what the hell are you doing? And why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on some fancy assignment?” The over-muscled cue ball smiles at me, confused by my sudden appearance.
“Put your weapon down, Cord and return to base,” I plead, holding back angry tears as a battle wars inside me. Save the Khayal, save Jonathan and save Cord.
“Drop the bow, Lindy. Have you lost your mind?” A familiar voice orders from behind me.
I snap into agent Donavan mode and track Martin from the corner of my eye. Her crossbow is trained on my right ear, but I don’t lower my weapon just yet. “Why don’t you go home and play with your dolls, Martin?”
“You are so fired, you know that?” Martin hisses.
Wait. Martin doesn’t know? She still thinks I’m a hunter?
I glance at Cord, his dark brows knit together in confusion. He doesn’t know either? I’m stunned that he’s not privy to the fact that SEEK sent me to Ops to dispose of me, to let me die.
I whirl back to Martin as she begins to prowl, positioning herself for the kill.
“You think you’re so hot, stomping around here with your bad attitude and your untouchable record of kills. I’ve got news for you, Donavan! I’m Corduroy’s partner now, and it turns out your record isn’t that untouchable. I think you’re a fake and you’ve been stealing Cord’s kills all along.” Jealousy oozes from every feature on her delicate face.
I don’t care. I don’t want the record number of kills. It makes me feel sick all over again. The word “monster” echoes in my head.
“ You are a good person ,” Irkalla’s thoughts come
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