Night Star

twenty-five

She dangles the amulet before me, the crystals glinting, taunting, leaving me vulnerable, exposed, defenseless, and bare. Tossing the amulet over her shoulder as the sickening shrill of her laughter echoes through the room.

Jude clamors, hands and feet grasping, at the ready, but he’s no match for her. With barely a flick of her wrist, she’s shoved him aside, paying no notice as he flies across the store and crashes straight into the wall.

Paying no notice to the horrible sound of bones snapping and popping as he crumbles to the floor in a sad broken heap.

But as much as I long to run to his side to see if he’s okay, I don’t do it. Can’t do it. That’ll only lead her to follow, and I can’t afford to let her get anywhere near him. For his safety, I need to keep her focused on me.

Still, I shoot him a look, mentally urging him to make the portal, to hurry up and do it while he still can, hoping he can somehow hear me. Unable to tell if his refusal to comply is due to the severity of his injuries, the gruesome mask of agony he wears on his face, the trickle of blood that flows from his mouth, or the fact that he refuses to leave me with her, determined to be there for me, no matter the cost to him.

She moves toward me, striving for slow and intimidating but nailing unsteady and shaky instead. Which, truth be told, is far more nerve-wracking than if she moved with purpose. Making it impossible to read her energy, to guess what she’ll do next, when she doesn’t even know yet herself.

She takes a swing, her fist rising, arcing, ’til it centers on me. But I duck just as quickly, moving right out from under it as I make for the other side of the room. Prompting her to turn and go after me again, tongue lodged against the inside of her cheek, her rage-fueled energy growing and expanding in a way that causes the lights to flicker, the floor to buckle, and all the glass fixtures, including the counter, to shatter and splinter.

Following me clear to the other side of the room as she says, “Nice try, Ever. But trust me, you’re only delaying the inevitable. Every time you evade me, you just make it more fun. Still, I’m in no hurry, I can play this all day if you want. But you should know that the longer you drag this out, the longer he”—she hitches her thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of where Jude lies in a barely-breathing heap—“well, the longer he’ll suffer.”

My teeth grind together, as I press my lips tightly. I’m done trying to reason with her. I did all I could. And now it’s time to put my training to use.

She charges me again, but she’s so off balance, I just step to the side at the very last moment, causing her to crash into a CD display in a way that sends her skittering across the floor right along with them. Landing hard on a pile of jagged shards of glass she broke earlier, causing a spray of blood to spatter the walls as they slice deeply into her.

But she just laughs and rolls onto her back, taking a moment to pluck the pieces from her torn flesh, her eyes glinting as she watches the cuts mend, picks herself up, brushes herself off, and faces me again.

“How does it feel to know you’re gonna die soon?” she asks, her voice raspy, ragged, revealing the effects of her efforts.

But I just look at her, shoulders lifting as I say, “I don’t know. You tell me.”

I move back just a little, realizing too late I’m pressed up against the wall—not really the best place to be when I need to keep myself open, unencumbered, with plenty of room for escape. Still, I only plan on being here for a moment, only until I can get to the other side where my amulet waits. As soon as I can get hold of it, I’ll secure it back on my neck, and do what it takes to put this whole thing to rest.

She stands before me, arms loose, fingers twitching, feet planted wide, and knees slightly bent—preparing to move, preparing to pounce.

I use the moment to study her closely, get a feel for her energy, and try to determine which way she’ll swing. But she’s so out of whack, so disconnected from herself and from everything else, it’s like trying to see through a cloud of static—she’s impossible to read.

So when she does charge, her fist held high, angling down toward my stomach, I instantly move to block it.

Never once imagining she’d switch at the very last moment.

Never once imagining that anyone so strung out and unsteady could actually maneuver like that.

Catching the crazed look of triumph in her eyes as her fist plunges straight into my throat.

Slamming right into the sweet spot—my fifth chakra—the center for a lack of discernment, misuse of information, and trusting all the wrong people.

Nailing it so hard and fast, it’s a moment before I realize what happened.

A moment before I’m overcome with staggering pain.

A moment before I’m out of my body, floating, swirling, gazing down at Haven’s leering gaze, Jude’s collapsed form, and the beautiful but fleeting cloud of blue sky that expands all around me—before everything shrinks, and collapses, and the whole world goes black.