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Pat!
I needed to take the tracker out, now. A headbutt would have worked best, but, of course, he wastoo tall! So I ground my heel on his foot.
When he tried to leap backwards and get away—like he had with Pat—I turned into a cat and jumped onto his shoulder, then turned back into a human, landing on top of him.
Unprepared for my sudden weight, the tracker fell.
I landed on my feet, then slammed my left foot down on his right hand—the one that held his gun.
The tracker shouted and reflexively let go of the gun.
I didn’t kick it—Pat had raised me better—but I kicked his hand away from the weapon before standing on his wrist again, trusting my brother to secure the handgun.
The tracker pinched the middle finger and thumb of his left hand together.
He’s going to snap!
Remembering how he’d made the magic circle appear, I lunged for his left hand and wrenched his fingers apart.
Unfortunately, that put me in a vulnerable position, stretched out across him with my torso and chest unprotected.
The tracker realized this too. He slammed his head into my side—which didn’t hurt, but it did make me waver so I was off balance—tipping me just enough so the tracker could yank his limbs free.
I heard Pat move behind us—hopefully he was getting the gun.
I gritted my teeth as the tracker did some tricky self-defense move I didn’t know, flinging me to the side so our positions were swapped with me pinned to the ground. Gravel dug into my back, and he held my arms pinned.
“You pestilence,” the tracker growled, before he shouted something—presumably in elvish.
I braced myself, but instead of feeling any pain, I heard muffled screaming.
I peeled my head off the ground and saw the humans stuck in the circle were writhing.
There was a clack that sounded like a gun falling, and Pat collapsed to his knees, his jaw clenched and sweat breaking out on his forehead.
The spell was affecting him, too, since it had expanded.
Stop him—I have to stop him!
I turned into a cat, slipping out of the tracker’s grasp, but he fell on top of me before I could slide out from underneath him.
“Be still, shadow, or I’ll increase their pain,” he warned.
I froze.
The tracker smirked as he slowly peeled himself off me, grasping my middle with his hands to keep me secure. “Do you know how little pain it takes to incapacitate a human?” he asked.
I panted, my fear roaring back as I tried to look at Pat, but the tracker blocked my view.
“Just a little tweak,” the tracker said in a conversational tone. “Like this.” He said something in elvish again, and the bound humans convulsed. Pat screamed, his voice raw with pain.
My instincts yelled at me that I needed to turn human—to dosomethingto help Pat and the others.
But if I move, he’ll hurt them worse.
The tracker laughed over the moans of pain, and through the confusing haze I felt more elf magic scrape at my ribs—more than I should have sensed since the circle was the only active spell.
Does he have something else up his sleeve? Should I act now because it will only get worse?
