She was distracted as Samuel reached her side, sweeping her into a hug. “Lucy, are you okay? I couldn’t find you.” The stress was apparent in his voice.
She gave him a squeeze. “I was with Abbs. We’re all good. Sorry I scared you.” Her voice lowered then. “I understand your fears, but you know over-protective crap just pisses me off, Sammy.”
His eyes met mine over her shoulder. The smallest grin graced his lips. Despite my own small petty jealousy, it made me happy to see he enjoyed Lucy’s smart mouth for more than just kissing the heck out of her.
I couldn’t see Brace anywhere as I anxiously scanned the room. I refused to think anything had happened to him. After so many years of dream meetings and then this recent time, I wasn’t sure I could imagine a world he wasn’t part of. Turning away, I followed the bloody path for a short distance. Chrissie appeared at my side – scaring the crap out of me – her face tear-streaked.
“Chandra’s dead.” She said it without emotion.
I gasped, trying to breathe through the shock and pain. Although we’d never had much to do with each other, I liked Chandra. Chrissie’s best friend, with her golden-brown hair and stunning chocolate eyes, had been the outgoing center of attention. Funny and charming.
The weight of her loss wore heavy on Chrissie’s downturned face. She pointed a finger at me, her black hair lying in limp scraggly strands, her brows drawn together in sorrow.
“I know you didn’t directly do this, Abby. But it feels like all of this happened because of you ... Chandra ... the torture. Because you came to our compound. Because Olden wanted you.” She sobbed once before composing herself. “Just stay away from me; I don’t want to see you again. You can only be a reminder of everything I’ve lost.”
I swallowed and opened my mouth to ... I don’t know ... apologize or something. But the look on her face said she didn’t want to hear it. My breathing was harsh and ragged as I stared at Chrissie. Seeing no forgiveness there, I just nodded. Chrissie wiped roughly at her tears before turning and walking away without a backwards glance.
Ouch! I clutched at my throat as her words resonated deep. She was right. Indirectly, I was the reason for many lives lost.
I knew I’d made myself an enemy from someone I’d once counted as a friend. A few of my own tears escaped, their saltiness gathering on my lips. I batted them away angrily.
My heart was heavy as I turned to make my way back to the people gathering at the junction of the path.
A man dove at me from behind a large pile of boxes. Instinct and training kicked in. Hitting the floor hard, I already had my knife in my hand, ready for the attack.
He came at me quickly, darting in with his own switch-blade held aloft. I managed to dodge two attacks, and I nicked him twice in the process. He was fast, flicking droplets of blood as he stabbed toward me. Changing tactics, I threw out a progression of roundhouse kicks and elbows. There was a distinct groan as I connected with his mid-section. I darted away again. My speed, as always, was my greatest asset.
As I went to take him down, I looked around and realized he had been herding me toward a back section. I was now in a secluded space, separated from my group.
Stupid me. I’d been so busy fighting I hadn’t noticed.
Another man came at me from the side.
I held both hands in front, my right clutching my best chance: the throwing knife. With a flick of my wrist I nailed the first man in the right side of his chest, high up. Not fatal – if he found help. The other charged me. I used his momentum and body weight to throw him clean over my head and into a pile of boxes.
Olden appeared at my right side.
“Hello, Abigail,” she said as she lunged at me. Her thin physique hid strength I had no idea she possessed.
I attempted to dodge the second attack, but something tangled at my feet and brought me down. I landed next to the man, who still had my knife in his chest. He’d somehow dragged himself over, leaving large trailing puddles of gore, to wrap his arms around my legs. I ordered my stomach not to react to the pungent aroma of the congealing blood.
Olden straddled me. “The master wants you, Abigail. But he didn’t say in what condition.”
She laughed. Her eyes were bright, feverish, her pupils dilated and moving rapidly. I’d seen cracked-out gangers before. Olden was off-her-face.
I wriggled and kicked, but with the man’s dead weight on my legs I was stuck.
“Get off me! I don’t have time to deal with your particular brand of crazy today,” I yelled into her face. Gods I hated her.
She moved and a sharp burning pain was my first indication. Looking down, I shook my head. I knew I was in shock. Nothing was registering.
With my free right hand, I reached out and grasped the handle of the large knife that had just been plunged into my chest.