Willing Sacrifice
Page 47

“You have to kill it,” she yelled at Torr.
His muscles bunched with the effort of combat. “Working on it.”
The Hunter began to back away toward the tree line. If it got much farther, it could disappear into the woods and they’d lose it.
Grace couldn’t let that happen.
She grabbed the closest weapon she could find—the ax used for splitting firewood. She’d spent enough hours with this tool in her hands for it to feel comfortable there. And while she knew that she was no match for the Hunter, she could at least keep its attention.
She sprinted toward the creature, weapon raised, screaming like a crazy person. One of its eyes swiveled toward her.
“Stay back!” ordered Torr, but she ignored him.
Getting close enough to the thing for it to slice her in half wasn’t an option, but that wasn’t her plan. All she had to do was get a little closer.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Torr’s body speed as he launched a series of graceful blows. She didn’t dare look at him directly. She couldn’t afford the distraction.
Her lungs were burning by the time she got close enough to hurl the ax at the side of the Hunter. It provided a huge, flat target that even she couldn’t miss at this distance.
The hard head of the ax slammed into the top edge of the Hunter, knocking it off balance. Small chips of black rock rained down from where she’d hit it, freezing the ground wherever they touched. It regained its footing and turned to face her and charge. Torr was faster and shattered it with one brutal blow from the Mason’s hammer.
Red gashes opened in his skin wherever the shards struck him. He scanned the area, searching for more enemies. His chest moved heavily with each breath, and the expression on his face was terrifying enough to have Grace backing away.
“Stay where I can see you,” he snapped.
She clamped down on the urge to run, though she wasn’t sure if it was because she wanted to ease his worry or because she didn’t want to provoke him into chasing her.
That was one footrace she knew she couldn’t win.
When he was satisfied that there were no more Hunters here, he turned to her. He was furious. His face was red, his amber eyes practically bulging with the force of his anger.
He took one long step forward.
Now she wished she’d run.
She stumbled back and tried to pull in a breath despite her hammering pulse. The cold air caught in her throat. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe.
She’d felt this way before, and as that knowledge came to her, so did the memory.
Her home had been invaded by demons. She and her stepbrother were desperately trying to stay quiet. He had a golf club in his hands, his young, scrawny body quivering with fear. She held the pistol her stepfather had kept in his sock drawer.
He didn’t need it anymore. He was dead in the living room, demons feasting on his flesh.
It was better than he deserved.
She still couldn’t believe what she’d seen, still couldn’t find a place in her mind for those creatures to fit. They were too twisted and scary to be real.
As terrifying as they were, what really frightened her was the comatose body of her mom, lying helpless in the back room, surrounded by the machines and tubes that kept her alive. Once the demons were finished with her stepfather and came searching for more food, the only thing standing between them and Grace’s mom was her, her baby brother, a shaky golf club, and an even shakier gun.
The door to the back room flew open. The demon was huge, with rows of yellow teeth coated in red blood. That, and the eyes. Glowing, sickly green.
She stepped in front of Blake and fired. Each bullet pushed the monster back a few inches and made it more furious.
The gun clicked. Empty.
Blake’s squeaky scream of rage bellowed out of him as he charged. Grace grabbed him around the middle and flung him back onto Mom.
A loud crash sounded in the living room. Low male grunts and the wet slap of severed flesh hitting the hardwood floor.
The demon charged.
Grace blinked, shocked to realize that she was in her little village, standing only a few feet away from the tiny hut she called home.
But this wasn’t her home. It wasn’t even her world.
Torr stood in front of her, holding her shoulders as if he feared she’d topple over. Concern lined his face and made his amber eyes burn bright. “Breathe, honey.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant until she felt the burning in her lungs. She’d been holding her breath against the terror of her memory.
She forced her mouth open, forced air into her lungs. It was a strange mix of summer warmth with swirling tendrils of cold from the Hunter’s presence.
He slipped her hair behind her ear and tipped her chin up to look at him. “Better?”
She nodded. Swallowed.
Mom. She’d been so helpless. Had the monsters gotten to her? Had they reached Blake?
“I think my whole family is dead,” she whispered.
A shocked pause passed. “You had another memory?”
“Yeah. Demons broke into our house. Ate Jerry. Blake and I were protecting Mom.” She had to force another breath. “I don’t know if they survived.”
His expression went blank. He let her go and stepped away to where the Sentinel Stone had stood only moments before. A shallow depression was left in the dirt. Small insects scrambled for cover from the suns.
Brenya had taken that, too.
Torr scanned the forest, making it impossible for her to see his face. “I’m sure they’re fine,” he said.
Facing her worry was somehow harder without his touch. It made her feel completely alone. Weak. “You don’t know that.”
“You should try to stay positive. Things here are tough enough without you borrowing trouble.”
“I just wish I knew the truth.”
“Maybe you will,” he said, his voice oddly flat. “Maybe one day you’ll remember everything.”
“Every memory I have is crappy. You’d think there’d be at least a couple of good ones in there, too.”
He looked at her then, finally shedding whatever chill had come over him. There was blatant need on his face, so stark it was almost desperation. “I hope so, Grace.”
She had no idea what to make of his odd behavior. Maybe all Theronai were like him, running hot and cold after a battle. She couldn’t be sure. The only other one she’d met was Tori, who was always burning hot, her every action fueled by rage.