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“No, but they said that sort of happening does tend to give spirits in general a bad name.” She paused. “Are we going after him? Or are we waiting for the cavalry?”
“If we wait, we risk giving him the chance to summon something else. I’ll call Aiden. You lead the way.”
As she raced off, I contacted Aiden. Roger might have already called him, but Aiden needed to know what was now happening.
“We’re twenty minutes away,” he growled, before I could say anything. “Wait for us.”
“We do that and we risk losing this bastard for good.”
“Then keep the line open and keep me updated on where you are.”
“Hurry,” I said, rather unnecessarily.
We swung around the corner and pounded up the empty street. I kept up a running commentary for Aiden’s benefit, but I had a gut feeling he wasn’t going to get here in time. That this bastard was ours to deal with, whether we wanted it or not.
Jack’s essence began to stain the air, as did the gathering energy of magic. But it was low-grade—underpowered—which suggested he might have used most of his energy and strength controlling the soul eater.
Belle’s guides directed us left, onto a street lined with large houses on acreage. Perhaps he was hoping to lose us in the bush. The thought had barely crossed my mind when there was an odd pop of sound. Belle swore and cannoned into me, the force enough to knock the breath from my lungs and the phone from my hand. We hit the ground, but she was up in an instant and all but dragging me to a nearby tree.
“The bastard’s armed.”
Given he wouldn’t have gotten a gun into Maelle’s, it could only mean he’d either stashed a weapon up here previously, or that the low-grade run of magic I’d sensed was him summoning a weapon from somewhere. “If he’s resorting to a gun, he’s been weakened. This is the best chance we’ll have of getting him.” I looked around. “Can you see my phone?”
“No.” She paused, her head cocked sideways. “He’s cutting through the next property, heading back toward Richards Road.”
I drew in a deep breath, attempting to calm the churning in my gut and the quiver of nerves, and then said, “Right, we need to split up. Ask your guides to foll
ow him, and let me know if he changes direction. If we can come at him from two directions, we might have a chance of at least pinning him.”
Belle nodded and moved to the right. I went left, weaving my way through the scrub and climbing carefully through barbwire fences. Somewhere ahead a dog barked, but it was quickly cut off.
I kept on running—though it was becoming increasingly harder given the growing ache in my leg—and tried to remain as quiet as possible. I just had to hope that, for once, fate played into our hands.
In the distance up ahead came the glimmer of a streetlight, which meant I had to be nearing Richards Road. I went the long way around a darkened house and slowed as I neared the road.
Belle? I said. Where is he?
He’s just hit the road. I’m a few minutes behind him. She paused. He’s headed your way.
I flexed my fingers, but didn’t dare gather magic. Weakened or not, he’d probably sense it. Instead, I picked up a sturdy-looking branch from the base of a broken tree and hefted it lightly. I certainly wouldn’t want to be clobbered with it. Hopefully, it would stop a man in his tracks.
I found a tree that was close enough to the footpath for me to launch at him, but wide enough to hide behind, and stopped. After a minute or so, I heard him—his footsteps were heavy and his breathing was a harsh rasp that cut across the night. I hoped that meant he was at the point of exhaustion. Hoped the two of us could cope with him.
I fought the ever-increasing urge to reach for magic as his footsteps drew closer. Further out in the darkness, magic stirred, but it was true wild magic rather than the magic infused by Katie’s spirit. It would make spelling dangerous, but it wouldn’t stop me if it came down to a choice between it and survival.
But at the last possible moment, he seemed to sense my presence. His footsteps abruptly faltered, and his harsh breathing fell silent.
Belle, distract him.
“Oi,” she said immediately, “who’s that moving around out there?”
He swore softly and walked on. I raised the branch, and when his footsteps indicated he was close enough, quickly stepped out from the tree and swung my weapon with every ounce of strength I had.
It smashed into his left arm and with such force that my branch shattered. He staggered back for several steps, curses flowing across the night as his arm swung like limp spaghetti from his shoulder.
I raised the remains of the branch and stepped closer—only to see the gun in his right hand.
A gun he was pointing right at me.
