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But she couldn’t run much farther, either. The movements were driving the white ash deeper into her flesh.
The zombies tossed the tree limb aside like so much rubbish. She took a deep breath, raised kinetic energy from God knows where, and hit them both, drawing a tight leash of energy around their necks. She stood her ground as they ran at her, waiting until they were close enough to smell before she snapped the leash tight. They dropped as one at her feet and didn’t move.
She took another shuddering breath, then looked at the warm glow of lights below her. She couldn’t make it that far by herself. Not with the white ash in her arm. But she couldn’t stay here, either. It would be just her luck that the local sheriff would decide to drive by, and she wasn’t up to explaining the bodies of the zombies right now. If the man who’d shared a moment of bliss with her didn’t believe her story, why in hell would a complete stranger?
She continued on down the hill. The white ash burned deep, until it felt as if her whole body was being consumed. She wished she could wrench it free from her flesh, but she didn’t dare even touch it in her weakened condition—not even kinetically. Blood dripped from her fingers, splashing in big, fat drops near her feet. The shaking grew worse, until she was staggering like a drunkard all over the road. She couldn’t go on. She had to sit.
She found a signpost and leaned back against it, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath in the hope it would stop the spinning. It didn’t seem to help.
But it didn’t matter. Help was on the way. She reached into her pocket and dragged out the chocolate bar. Tearing it open with her teeth, she began to munch on it as she waited for Ethan to arrive.
ETHAN SLOWED AS HE NEARED THE CREST OF THE ROAD, HIS breath ragged gasps that tore at his lungs. The smell of death and blood tainted the night air, and for the briefest of moments, he was afraid to go on. Afraid of what he might find.
An odd reaction, given all he’d seen over his years as a cop.
He flexed his fingers and walked on slowly. The metallic tang of blood got sharper and mingled with the warm scent of summer he’d come to associate with Kat. He glanced to his right. There in the shadows, leaning against a signpost and surrounded by discarded pieces of chocolate wrapper, sat Kat.
Relief surged through him, but it just as quickly disappeared. Blood soaked her left hand and dripped steadily into a small puddle near her fingers. He knelt next to her, noting there was a stake of some sort sticking out of her arm. If it hadn’t been for the smell of death, it was possible to think she’d had an accident, maybe fallen and stabbed herself with a tree branch. But that smell was an echo of the driver who’d rammed them, and he didn’t think it was a coincidence.
“Kat?” He touched her face. She was trembling and, though her skin was cold, sweating profusely.
She looked at him. The pain in her green eyes seemed to echo right through him.
“You need to take out the stake.”
“You need to get to a hospital.” He reached for his phone, but she stopped him. The strength of her hold was surprising, given that she looked like hell.
“Just take the stake out, then wrap the arm and take me back to Gran. It’s really not as bad as it looks.”
“I’ve been a cop long enough to know a bad wound when I see one, and this—”
“Is not what you think. Just take the goddamn stake out and stop arguing.”
“If that stake has hit an artery—”
“Look, will you just pretend I know what I’m talking about for five minutes and take the stake out?”
Her voice rose and cracked, and the desperation and pain in her eyes grew. He swore under his breath but turned his attention to her wound. The stake appeared to have pierced the fleshy part of her upper arm and had gone right through. The section visible near her breast was barbed.
“I’m going to have to thrust it right through,” he said. “Otherwise the barbs are going to take half your arm as they come out.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. “Just do it.”
“It’s going to hurt.”
“Imagine that,” she muttered.
If she could manage to be sarcastic, she obviously wasn’t as bad as she looked. He took off his coat and ripped off a shirtsleeve to use as a tourniquet. Then he lifted her arm and carefully gripped the end of the stake. “Ready?”
She bit her lip and nodded. Sweat dribbled down her cheeks and fear touched her eyes.
“One. Two. Three.” He ripped the wood from her skin, and she screamed—a sound of pain that tore right through his soul. Blood poured from the wound, but it didn’t pulse, indicating that at least he hadn’t ruptured an artery. He grabbed the sleeve and wrapped it tightly around her arm. Somehow, she stayed conscious through the whole thing, though her breath was shallow gasps and her skin was pasty.
“Back to Gran,” she said between clenched teeth.
“This needs stitching at least, and—”
“Trust me. Just this once,” she muttered and fell sideways.
