Page 16 of Storm Caller

He stands up and starts searching left and right.

Suddenly, something grabs me from behind, and I scream.

5

“Rook!” I cry as I’m tugged through the fence, passing through the flickering lines of electricity. And it fucking hurts. My skin is on fire, like it’s being peeled off in thin ribbons of bloody flesh.

I don’t have to look behind me to know I’ve been snatched by a rabid Keeper.

His hot breath hits the back of my neck, and I kick and flail wildly.

“Poet!” Rook shouts.

Immediately, he follows us through the fence.

The Keeper drags me away, one hand wrapped around my throat, another arm banded around my waist. He smells awful. Like burning rubber and dead flesh. It coats the inside of my mouth as I kick and kick, trying to free myself, but his grip is iron-strong.

Rook approaches carefully, his stance hunched as he assesses the situation.

“Help,” I manage to rasp.

The Keeper is cutting off my air, and spots bloom in the corners of my vision. He pants heavily in my ear, exhaling gusts of putrid air that stir the tiny hairs around my temple. My eyes water and my fingers turn numb as I fight for breath.

Rook rushes toward us, swerving around me and knocking into the Keeper with his shoulder. We both go flying, and I feel something snap as the man’s big body lands on top of me. I groan as pain shoots up my hip, spreading down my leg and up my arm. A cracked rib, maybe.

Rook is on top of us, tugging on the Keeper, landing punches to his head and back. The Keeper doesn’t let go, rolling me under him, crushing me, his ragged breaths loud in my ears. Muted rattles echo from his chest as his glowing eyes flicker.

“Get off her!” Rook shouts, hands gripping my attacker as I try to break his hold, but he’s impossibly strong. I twist toward him, kicking out, landing a blow between his legs. The Keeper’s mouth opens, his eyes bulging and his grip loosening just enough that Rook can finally pull him off.

The Keeper tackles Rook, and they stagger several steps, trying to knock each other down. I watch as the Keeper punches Rook in the jaw so hard, I’m surprised his neck doesn’t snap. Rook goes flying, lands on his back several feet away, and skids along the grass with a pained grunt.

The Keeper launches at Rook as I struggle to my feet and rush at him from the side. We become a tangle of limbs and wild punches until Rook rolls on top of the Keeper. He clocks him in the face, temporarily stunning him.

“Come on!” Rook says, taking my hand and tugging me back toward the encampment. “We have to get to a bunker.”

But the Keeper is already recovering.

He catches up. A cold hand snags my arm, and then I’m going down again.

The Keeper might not make sounds in the traditional sense, but he’s making a sound. The most horrifying rattle vibrates in his chest and throat, like he’s swallowed a bag of teeth and they’re fighting to escape. It’s grotesque and unnatural. It’s so . . . wrong that it makes me gag.

“Help!” I croak as he grips my neck with strong fingers. My windpipe narrows as he squeezes harder. Again, I start to fade, blackness smearing around the edges of my sight.

A moment later, I hear a crack.

Everything falls silent before the Keeper goes limp.

I look up to find Rook with the man’s head gripped in his hands.

Rook snapped his neck.

The light drains from the Keeper’s eyes as he collapses to the earth, and I roll out from under him, choking and hacking as I try to suck air into my lungs. My throat aches, bruises already throbbing beneath my skin.

It takes me a moment to realize that Rook is standing perfectly still, staring down at the body of the dead Keeper. His face is pale, his chest expanding and contracting. Slowly, he lowers the man to the ground before running a hand through his hair, tugging on it. Hard.

“Rook?” I ask. My voice comes out hoarse, scratchy. “Are you okay?”

His gaze snaps up to mine, his haunted expression taking a moment to clear. He looks toward the encampment on the other side of the fence. “We have to get back inside. They can’t see us out here.”