Arrow number fifty-six.
There was little space left on my body that was not marked and bleeding. I hiccupped through short trembling breaths.
At least one of the arrows had punctured a lung.
I tried to heal it.
Arrow fifty-eight.
I coughed. Blood splattered. I couldn’t draw on any more power.
I refused to close my eyes. I looked at Lincoln, my love. He was crying, his face twisted in agony as four exiles held him back.
I let him see the truth. It was time. He screamed till there was no breath left in him.
Phoenix turned to Lincoln. Then back to me. Lincoln started shouting at him, ‘No! No! No more! Phoenix, no more!’
Phoenix reloaded.
I held on. He fired.
One more child.
Each breath more shallow, more broken. I was afraid.
Still refusing to close my eyes, I began to mentally say my goodbyes, first to Dad, then Evelyn. I thought of Steph and Salvatore, of Dapper and Onyx, of Griffin, Zoe and Spence. My family.
I looked to Phoenix and sent him my apology, my forgiveness, too. He blocked me and reloaded. But it was okay. Every arrow equalled one more life.
Finally, I looked back to Lincoln and let my heart go to him. With the last of what I had, I whispered, ‘I love you.’
Another arrow jolted my body.
Good. One more life.
Lincoln pushed against the exiles restraining him and screamed, ‘I’m yours! Always. Always!’
Then he sent me everything he had. I saw him fall to the ground as the rest of his power fed into me, helping me to survive a few more arrows.
Arrow sixty-four hit.
Arrow sixty-five.
Arrow sixty-six.
Evelyn cried out.
Arrow sixty-seven.
I was sinking.
Finally, I let myself go to that place. I forced my eyes to stay open, but I let myself shut down and go to that place I’d taught myself to seek. The place that locks the rest of the world out, the place that created the rules.
I will not run from you. I will not hide from you. I will endure anything you give to me. I do not believe in fairy-tale endings. I will stand and I will fight. I will … I will … I will …
Arrow …
Arrow …
I didn’t know if my eyes were open any more. It didn’t matter. Eventually, there was only darkness.
No tunnel.
No light.
Only the promise of nothingness.
And yet, suddenly, in those final moments, a sharp wave of fear lurched up and penetrated every part of me. I was sure, more sure than I had been of anything in my entire life, that something truly terrifying awaited me. But there was nothing I could do.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
‘What! Could you not then understand? This is the hell with which you were threatened.’
The Holy Quran 36:62–63
Conflicting smells hit me first. Something damp, pungent – like disinfectant. Then, salty sweat and heat. But above all, the tangy smell of fresh blood mingled with the rotten odour of dried.
The pain came next. From my forehead to the back of my neck, my shoulders, arms and down from there. Everywhere. It felt like my body was on fire.
I laboured to breathe. My throat was raw, every inhalation felt like knives to an open wound. On some level it registered that it was because of all the screaming, but the thought was too difficult to hold on to.
‘She’s coming round,’ a voice said.
Footsteps sounded, moving nearer. ‘Hey, Dapper just called. They’re almost back.’ Different voice.
Who? Was that … Spence?
‘Good. Go back outside and stand guard.’
A pause. Then footsteps fading away.
‘Get her some water,’ said the same voice.
‘I’m not leaving her,’ a female, replied.
‘She can barely breathe, get her some water,’ the first voice growled in response.
‘I don’t trust you with her.’
‘I brought her here, didn’t I?’
Another pause. Scuffled footsteps followed.
Someone yelled out from further away. More sounds then a loud bang followed by a click.
My mind wasn’t working properly. I tried to open my eyes. Panic started to slowly rise as I questioned where I was and what had happened. Was I somewhere I’d been before? I started to see glimpses of light. Something flashing through the air towards me.
Arrow.
A hand smoothed my forehead with a damp cloth. It didn’t help the pain. There was a loud banging nearby.
‘Violet?’ the voice said. ‘You need to try and wake up.’
I couldn’t understand why. Nothing made sense. I saw more flashes.
Memories started coming back to me. My body jolted. Strong hands held me down. I remembered Lilith. I remembered the children – Simon, Katie, Tom. I remembered the arrows.
So. Many. Arrows.
I tried to speak but no words came out.
‘Don’t try to talk,’ said the voice. ‘You need to concentrate on waking up. When you wake up properly you can heal yourself.’
But why?
I was supposed to be dead. I’d felt myself slip away.
A flicker of irony ran through me. I thought when I died all the pain would go away.