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But something within doubted it.
The photos suggested our sorcerer intended to draw this out and make me suffer. Capturing me now and forcing me to watch my family be butchered might allow him to bathe in my horror and grief, but would that make up for the thrill of watching me attempt to save them from being kidnapped and then murdered, only to fail at each and every hurdle?
As I’d failed to save Cat?
What this sorcerer wanted was a replay, except this time, it would end with my death rather than his.
The thread tugged me left onto a wide stone path. From up ahead came the scent of still water—a lake of some kind—though I couldn’t see it through the rain. The path looped around to the left, and up ahead was an overpass. The path and the lake ran under it, and as underpasses went, it was reasonably well lit. No moths danced around the cheery yellow lights though—they obviously had more sense than to be out in weather this bad.
The thing carrying Deni tore through the underpass. In the brighter light he appeared misshapen, and there were two dark points rising from either side of his head—horns? Was he some sort of demon? One who could walk through walls?
Was he, perhaps, the sorcerer’s demon?
Would such a demon do this sort of manual work? The little I knew of dark sorcerers and their ties to the underworld suggested not, but I guessed it depended on the strength of the sorcerer, the type of demon, and what sort of contract they’d entered into.
It had Deni around its shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and though her hands and feet were now untied, something that felt dark and foul—even from this distance—ringed her neck.
As he swept back out into the storm, I entered the long underpass, enjoying the brief respite from the shitty weather.
The lake and the path looped to the right and disappeared into the trees. I couldn’t see the demon, and while the thread no longer had that stretched, about-to-snap look, it was also nowhere near as vibrant. Given how close I now was, the opposite should be happening.
Which could only mean one thing—she was dying.
And I rather suspected the black thing around her neck was the cause.
Which made no sense if he was replicating past kills, but maybe my earlier suspicion was only partially right. Maybe this wasn’t so much about faithfully repeating history, but rather just the end result.
If that were true, then the first kill had been nothing more than a means of getting my attention.
God help us all....
I pushed aside the surge of fear and reached for more speed. There was nothing more left in the tank. I was running on sheer adrenaline now, and in all truth, might not have enough left to bring that thing down even if I did get closer.
If I was going to stop it, then I had better do it now, before exhaustion took full hold.
I rounded the corner and moved into the trees. The force of the storm was muted by their canopies, but fat droplets still fell, hitting the path ahead of me with enough force to eject tiny stones into the air.
Up ahead, the leash was pulsing, as if in distress, and the thing was again pulling away.
I swore. Vehemently. Then I quickly cast a repelling spell around my fingers, this time weaving a containment spell through it. I had no idea if it would actually work against the thing ahead or even if it would last for very long if it did, but that wasn’t the point. I simply needed to get close enough to cast the holy water. If it was our wraith, then that should be the end of it. If it wasn’t, well, holy water took a nasty toll on most other demons.
When the spell was done, I raised my hand and cast it, as hard as I could, toward the fast-disappearing figures.
At the last possible second, the thing seemed to sense it. He veered sharply to the left and headed for the water. My spell tumbled after it, but a heartbeat before it would have hit, the creature dived into the water and disappeared.
Leaving my spell to disappear into the night and Deni floating facedown in the lake.
Chapter Seven
I swerved through the trees, bolted into the water, and splashed like hell toward Deni.
Which was a stupid thing to do given the thing might still be there.
I grabbed her feet, tugged her toward me, then rolled her onto her back. She wasn’t breathing, and I couldn’t help her with that just yet. Not when I was in the water and the sense of danger was now so sharp it felt like my skin was being sliced open.
I tucked my hands under her armpits and dragged her back to the shore. As I was hauling her up the bank, a bony-looking hand and arm rose from the water and lunged for her feet. There was obviously a body attached to the arm, but between the night, the storm, and the water, it just wasn’t visible.
It rather creepily reminded me of one of those cheap horror movies where the disembodied limbs of the dead crawled along the floor—or this case, though the water—trying to claim their prize.
