Before she can reach me, the Elemental is tackled by an Elder wielding what look like machetes. Have these things been studying weapons during their downtime? “Keep them off me!” I shout at Raul. It hurts like hell to push myself up, my bloody arm dripping uselessly next to me, but I do it. I am not letting a single other person die for me.
Lola is hysterical in her efforts to get away, blood flying left and right as it hacks at her. Lightning zigzags its way down around then, but it’s white noise. To hit the monster attacking her would be to risk herself.
I finally make it to them just as one of its machete arms raises high to strike. With my good hand, I grab it and hold on tight. And then it’s gone, and Lola is beneath me, sobbing and splattered in injuries.
That’s five.
I want to kneel down next to her, but I’m selfishly worried about the difficulties of getting up again. “It’s okay,” I assure her as softly as I can. “I got it. It can’t hurt you anymore.”
She’s inconsolable. I wish I had time to comfort her, to tend to her, but there’s no time. “Where is Kellan?”
She doesn’t answer. Across the lawn, Raul lets us know one is incoming. He’s got his twisters in action once more. “Listen to me, Lola. You are going to get up and get yourself to safety. But you need to let me know where Kellan is.”
Her eyes are so wide as she struggles to get up. I offer my good hand, but it’s a pathetic gesture, the wounded helping the wounded. But we manage to get her to her feet, albeit unsteadily. “He’s ...” She shrinks as screams surround us. “I don’t know where he is! Vance—Vance is dead!”
She’s crying again. I feel like the biggest bitch in the worlds, but I say once more, “You need to get out of here. I will take care of the rest.” To Raul, struggling with chasing down the Elder zigzagging toward us with his impossibly thin twisters, I shout, “Throw it to me!”
I think he laughs, but he does exactly what I ask. Both twisters converge, forcing the Elder high in the air and then plummeting down as they crisscross swipe in a pattern across the yard. I sprint toward it, grabbing hold of a limb as it flounders in its descent.
It’s gone without a second thought. That’s six.
Raul finally makes his way to where I am. “Chloe! Thank the gods! Are you okay?”
No. I am most definitely not okay. So much grief pounds at the confines of my cored out chest. But I tell him I am anyway. He doesn’t need my baggage, not when he’s here, risking so much already. “Where’s Kellan? How many are left?”
“We scouted five incorporeals guarding the property,” he tells me. Sweat and blood drip off his handsome brow. “And I’ve seen three bodies, including Enlilkian. Kellan is trying to get into the house, which we thought you were in.” He comes in to hug me, only to jerk back when I cry out at the brush of arm against arm. “Mis dioses, Cousin! You look as if you were put through a meat grinder!”
He should have seen me before Cicely did her mojo, I think.
“We need to get you to safety,” Raul’s saying, gently cupping my good elbow.
I disentangle myself just as gently. “I’m not leaving without Kellan.”
“His orders were very clear, Chloe. You are to be extracted as soon as possible. No exceptions. If he found out I let you back toward danger—”
That sounds like Kellan. Only ... “I’m not leaving without him.” It’s clear he wants to argue, so I head him off at the pass. “There’s a little girl in there. A Shaman. I’m not leaving without her, either. There may also be a non who tried to help me. And Lola should take priority over me; she’s hurt far worse.”
“Debatable.” Cora’s husband swears softly under his breath at the same time explosions fire off around the house. Before Raul can say another word, I’m once more entering the house.
“Kellan?” I practically trip across the threshold. Smoke fills the entryway; a couch nearby is on fire. “Kellan!”
Only, he’s not the one to answer me. It’s the Elder wearing Harou’s face. “She’s here!” it shouts.
I sprint toward it, past burning pieces, my hand outstretched to touch something, anything on its body, but it’s clearly on to my tactics, skipping just out of reach.
We hover on either sides of a shattered coffee table in our game of chicken. My eyes do not leave its. “Kellan?”
It smiles at me, like what I’m saying is funny.
“Did the little Creator lose something?”
It doesn’t even see the battering ram that materializes behind it, driving its rotting body right toward mine. I gladly grab hold as it slams into me, all putrid, gag-worthy aromas flooding my senses and soft, liquid like flesh below my fingers. And then it’s gone and my hands are sticky. That makes seven.
A crash sounds somewhere above me, followed by the walls shaking. I plunge deeper into the house, searching for stairs. “KELLAN! KELLAN, WHERE ARE YOU?”
Another crash rattles the few pieces of unbroken furniture around me. I’m screaming now, tearing into a spacious kitchen, his name the only thing my mouth is capable of saying.
WHAM.