The Grave Shadows

49. Killer

Everett... Cyan could feel him, the forest musk of him, the darkness of him, and his lies. The candle glow danced on the stone. The atmosphere swayed as though the world was melting. Her throat was dry, her skin cold, her heartbeat flickering like the frustrated flames. It could have been a dream, but Evil suggested Cyan run.

Cyan jerked from the pool of black linen. In silence were her breathing and the ticking of John's clock on the bedside table.

"You heal?" In one corner, behind the candle lights, a voice rang. The glow concealed a man who rose to his feet. "I haven't seen the one who can do it before. Not the one this cute, either."

But Cyan remembered the voice. He was the Watts boy. A lower kind. The one Everett called pig.

Cyan shot out of the bed. "Where am I?" She knew the room. It was Everett's. "Where's Everett?"

"Ah... about that." Austin shuffled around the lights. His hands came at Cyan like a wind.

Cyan slapped his arm and took a step back.

With that pig, hit him hard. Ask question later. Everett taught her.

Austin laughed. "You're so entertaining."

Cyan lunged at the door, but Austin grabbed her arm. He yanked her to him, so she gashed his jaw with her claws. Cyan stomped on Austin's shoe. He shrieked, and his palm struck her cheek.

The unfamiliar burn spread on Cyan's skin. Evil growled, threatening to drown this animal with Cyan's blood. Cyan hurled a fist at Austin's face. He covered his nose where the red streak dripped down his mouth.

"Everett's move," Austin said.

Cyan dodged to the other side of the bed. The solidity of the clock wielded turbulence to her hands. She swung it at Austin, but he ducked away and flew at her with a murderous howl. He tossed Cyan onto the floor and came on top of her. She screamed and scratched his face.

Another slap hit Cyan's face harder than the last. She groaned as his hands firmed around her throat. "I want to see his face when I tell him how we have fun."

Cyan struggled, her feet kicking the air. The vehemence of Austin's weight was on her chest while her nails dug into his arms. He didn't seem to know pain as Cyan did. Sharp terror spread through her head, her lungs burned for air, despair leaking through her eyes. Healing never saved Cyan. It only patched the wounds. Life was small and drifting away, to return after death, after all the pain.

Suddenly, Austin jolted out of Cyan and crashed against the floor.

The pressure eased away from Cyan's throat, and the air scorched her windpipe. She choked, scrambling up to the floor. Run! Evil roared.

But at the door was Hector. He strutted into the room and slammed Austin against the wall with one hand. Cyan remembered that kind of brutality and mercilessness—the vigor that erased her soul again and again. Austin squirmed, spitting blood and repugnance, when two men took him away.

"No..." Cyan shook her head and retreated. In Hector grip, she would rather die, but that wasn't an option. Evil curled into a ball inside Cyan's stomach.

"Stop. I'm not going to hurt you." Hector was a marvelous effigy, grand, lifeless, and stationary.

But Cyan knew that Hector could flip and turn into a killer in a blink of an eye. Her best hope was digging a way out of these thick stone walls. If Hector touched her, he would drain her blood for entertainment. But the air froze solid around Cyan, fear paralyzing her and letting Hector rule.

"Hold still," Hector whispered when he nibbled Cyan's ear. "Stick to the plan."

Hector lifted Cyan into his arms. She couldn't move, protest, scream, or cry. Her body became another statute, or perhaps she had been dead for a while. Her legs dangled in the air as her head stuck on his pounding chest. The cherubs above Cyan wept while her blood sauntered in anticipation of the torment.

"What are you doing, Hector?" Bill Watts's voice roared above all.

Cyan couldn't catch the sight of the King of Colt but sensed that even he couldn't stop Hector. She couldn't turn her head to see the sources of footsteps around her. Were they the Watts boys'? Was Everett there? Why didn't Luke say anything? Why didn't Will wrap his wings around her? Why didn't Simon fight? But all were the dark ceiling, the mourning cherubs, and Hector's chin.

Hector's lips remained sealed as he cradled Cyan in his embrace. Rigidly, he sailed through the dark hallway with gasps and breaths cowered around him. But a thud of the door cast away the sounds and the hope of escaping.

Gingerly, Hector eased Cyan's feet onto the floor. Her weight returned when her naked feet touched the carpet. She scampered to the window, hoping to fly away from the perpetual death.

"Think of John," Hector said.

Cyan halted and spun around. John... Tears cascaded down her cheeks.

"You can't risk him too." Hector's blue eyes illuminated the room. "Come. Let me look at you. I won't hurt you."

From recent experience, Cyan knew the lies when she heard one. "But you will kill me," she said.

Hector nodded and stretched a hand in Cyan's direction.

"But I can't be killed." Cyan balled her fists. How could she fight the best Watts boy? She couldn't outrun Black Stallion. How many times would this killer stop her heart?

Hector smiled. "Sorry, love. Everyone dies. Even you. We just haven't done it right."