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Another shot rang out. In front of me, Owen grunted and staggered outside, leaving behind a smear of blood on the glass door.
"Owen? Owen!" I made it through the opening, let the door close behind me, and ran over to him.
He clutched his left shoulder. "I'm okay. I think they just winged me - "
Bullets slammed into the door behind us, cracking the glass and making us duck down.
I put my arm under Owen's shoulder, and together we staggered down the stairs and headed for the shadows and sanctuary of the gardens.
* * *
I led Owen to the far western edge of the gardens, where the lush flowers gave way to the creeping briars. Despite the giants' shouts behind us, I risked turning my flashlight on for a few seconds and swept it back and forth in front of a hedge of four-foot-tall briars. Finally, I found what looked like a small animal trail through the thorns. I clicked the flashlight off and turned to Owen.
"Can you go on a little farther?" I whispered.
He nodded, although he was still clutching his shoulder.
"Okay," I whispered back. "Follow my lead, and just take it easy. Don't fight the briars. Go where they let you. We don't want to leave a trail of broken branches behind us that will tell the giants exactly where we went. "
Owen nodded. I went first, worming my way deeper and deeper into the branches. The briars clutched at my tattered dress, but I went slowly, carefully moving branches out of my way. Owen followed along behind me, his breath rasping against the back of my neck.
Ten feet in, a copse of weeping willows soared up out of the briars, and I slid into a small open space between two of the trees that was free from the thorns. Fifteen feet beyond the back side of the bramble patch, the island sheared off in a straight drop down to the Aneirin River two hundred feet below.
It was as good a spot as any to hide from the giants, so I gestured at Owen to stop. He sat down on the ground and put his back against one of the weeping willows, the long tendrils brushing against his shoulders like a masseuse's fingers. I sank down on my knees beside him.
"Let me see your arm," I whispered.
He nodded, and I helped him shrug out of his tuxedo jacket. I used one of my knives to slice open his white shirt. Two neat holes blackened his left bicep, blood trickling out of each one of them. It was an ugly wound, one that would hurt, ache, and burn with every move, but relief pulsed through me that it wasn't worse.
"It looks like a through-and-through," I said in a soft voice.
"Just help me bandage it up. It stings, but it's not that bad. " Owen grimaced. "Not nearly as bad as what Dixon did to Phillip. "
I ripped his jacket up and used it to make a tight bandage. Owen grimaced, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but he swallowed down most of the pain.
Once that was done, I crouched down a few feet away, with my back to the river and my gaze on the faint path we'd made through the thorns. I didn't think the giants would venture this far from the museum, but I wanted to be ready in case they did.
And then we waited.
In the distance, I could hear the giants' shouts as they searched for us. I just hoped they would focus on this side of the island and not the front, where Bria and Xavier would be coming in any minute now. I pulled my cell phone off my belt, intending to text my sister about the new danger, but the moonlight filtering down through the trees revealed a bullet hole in the middle of the device. I bit back a curse and clipped the phone to my belt once more, even though it was useless now. Bria and Xavier were on their own - just like Owen and me.
A minute passed. Then two. Then five.
All the while, the giants swarmed through the gardens, yelling back and forth to one another.
"Where are they?"
"Do you see them?"
"Where did they go?"
Every once in a while, the bright beam of a flashlight would cut across the foliage above our heads, making Owen and me duck down further in the shadows. But the briars made the giants keep their distance, and they didn't find us.
Eventually, the sounds of their shouts died away altogether, along with the beams of light, and I relaxed. The danger had passed us by - for now.
Finally, Owen spoke, his voice a hard, flat note against the cheery chirp of the crickets in the underbrush. "Jillian's dead. "
"Yes," I said. "She is. "
