“Nothing here!” Someone calls from the kitchen.
“You have to make it stop,” I beg.
“I promise,” Arek whispers in my ear as we continue to the garage.
I’m helpless as two men crash from the shadows of the room, taking Kilon and Arek down before I have a chance to retreat. Kilon and Arek defeat them in very little time. Arek grabs me again, his breathing heavy and his skin hot to the touch as Kilon guardedly opens the door to the garage.
The others are there, waiting. Sassi sees my pain. “He’ll do more damage if it goes on too long.” She leans over to me. “Think of something else, Willow. Now. Anything else . . . it doesn’t matter what it is.”
“Clearly something’s changed. There’s no way they can see her right now but he’s able to affect her,” Kilon says.
“Let’s get her in the car,” Sassi commands with a hand on my arm.
I open my eyes, but only for a moment. It feels like my skull will crack, yet Arek’s voice gives a bit of relief. We climb into the vehicle, but even when the windows are shut tight, the pain doesn’t subside and Arek takes my face in his hands. “Willow . . . open your eyes.” It feels nearly impossible. When I do, he is holding a matchbook-size screen in front of me that flashes red lights. “Don’t look anywhere else, but here,” Arek warns. It’s his smart phone, flashing patterns. They are difficult to follow at first, but eventually steal my attention. The pain begins to dissipate, leaving my body buzzing with adrenaline.
“What do I do? That can’t happen again.” My muscles ache and my cheeks are still fiery red.
“We have to block out what they are feeding you. The moment you let your guard down, they can get in, so whatever continues that train of thought that took you out of it—stay with that,” Arek explains.
“So, they can’t do this to any of you?” I ask, continuing to watch the red lights.
“Only to the unguarded. We’ve all had years of study.” Sassi presses the button to turn on the SUV but nothing happens. She instantly looks back at Arek while trying to turn it on again. He doesn’t say anything, but Sassi responds anyway with a nod as though they’ve just had a conversation.
Arek jumps outside, quickly shutting the door behind him.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here,” Sassi whispers.
Yet soon enough Arek is back, his hand reaching out to me, “They’ve disabled the engine. We have to go.”
The house is still in shadows even though the sun has risen almost completely now. Arek, Sassi, and Kilon, with Peter following slightly behind, move me through the kitchen. Arek speaks to someone on the phone using his Bluetooth in his ear. Sassi looks at him when reaching for the door.
“Are they ready?” Sassi asks.
“They’ll be waiting,” Arek agrees.
Sassi pulls out her silver-tipped Glock, which I recognize from Ian’s description as one of the only guns he’d ever use. She then follows Peter. The only person without a weapon is me. Arek begins to open the door. What happens once they open? How do we get out of here? Where do we go that they won’t follow?
The frozen hinges squeal, but nothing happens except a sudden rush of icy wind that makes me shudder, since none of us have dressed for the sheer wind.
Everything is calm beyond the door. Yet we know something is out there.
Sassi and Kilon move out first, pressing against the rock walls. We step on to the wooden porch under the modern metal overhang, absorbed by the falling snow, cold echo, and blanketed acres surrounding. A group of small but hardy birds feels safe enough to waddle along the white ground just in front of the porch.
“The alpine accentor,” I whisper.
“What?” Kilon asks.
“My students studied birds last year and that was one of them.” I long to be there again, instead of here.
Beyond these light brown feathered birds, we can’t see anything out of the ordinary, yet there is something here and it is heavy and oppressive. I can feel it.
“Aaaaaaareeeeek!” A scream pierces the silence. Somewhere off in the distance it escapes from the weather imprisoned trees. The shrill tone sends shocks through my body as I grab Arek’s arm. The group actively combs the tree line. “Aaaareeeeeeek!”
A ghost of color, off in the distance, races through the trees. “Beckah!” Arek calls out.
Beckah, sweaty and tired, runs with strong, aggressive strides over roots and through branches. When she sees us, she stops and raises her hand in the air telling us to move. “Go!” she yells from across the divide. “Get her to the car!”
Suddenly, several men appear from behind her. I hold my breath as one of them raises his gun.
“Beckah!” Kilon yells out, warning her just in time. She turns, throwing her weapon up. The crash of the metal is earsplitting in the hollow meadow. For the first time, Geo tenses from where he stands behind me, yet Kilon shakes his head. “Nah, mate. She’ll be fine.”
Then robotically, Geo seems to return to his quiet meditative state behind me.
“You’ve got to help her,” I tell them.
“Those men don’t stand a chance,” Sassi assures me.
My concentration is lost. As Arek and Kilon escort me faster than my feet can keep up, I can’t stop watching Beckah. Somewhere, I’ve seen her do this before . . . in my memory? With every throw of her arm and sweep of a man’s feet till he hits the ground, it is déjà vu. Beckah’s blonde hair flies behind her, and her stance is suddenly intoxicatingly familiar. Her small size makes her nimble, yet her movements are strategic and leveraged. Brandishing both a knife and gun, they seem cemented to her hand. Silver flashes as she rolls beneath the attacker’s legs, surprising him with this sudden change. She’s nearly upside down when she wraps her thighs around one of his legs just above his knee and pulls his ankle, which sends him to the ground. He has no chance and he falls heavily into the snow.
I can feel the cold throb of my extremities, the dryness of my eyes, and the fever pitch that makes my lungs groan, as we run straight uphill. My thighs burn. Three black cars wait for us.
“They’re coming,” Arek says.
When we are ten feet from the top of the hill, my foot slides out from under me. I’m grateful to hear the roar of the cars’ engines as I shuffle back to my feet. Arek practically lifts me to the top of the hill just as a black car whips down the road and screeches to a halt behind the other cars. I recognize the Alfa Romeo insignia. If Ian taught me anything, it was to recognize luxury cars.
Arek jerks me behind him and pulls his gun as the Alfa Romeo slams its brakes and sprays snow in the air. Several men jump out—their faces serious and their weapons threatening. Each of them has a gun in their hand and a knife in their waistband.
“Weis il unt, Kilon,” says a man with a hard face and wide jaw. Kilon doesn’t move. “Tatgamin un min uv tous.”
