Water dripped down my cheek. I could call it rain, but I’d be a liar.
I stared into the flames and shuddered. Heat radiated, warming my fingers. I shifted closer and watched the wood burn. Time slipped away, one lick of flame after another. My hair dried, skin dried. I yanked the wet shirt over my head and tossed it to the side.
Blood stained the cotton, darkening patches were hidden by fresh crimson. I pressed a fistful of swabs against my side and dragged a green surgical shirt over my arms. My jeans and boots were drenched, but this was enough…a shudder raced through me as I lowered my head to the floor. My cheek brushed the leather of my jacket balled under my head and felt the hard mound.
My eyelids drooped as I crawled my hand higher. He left it…my fingers found the opening of my pocket and delved in. Left it for me.
Smooth, hard surface replaced the cold gold. I gripped the ring tight and drew it out. The flames bounced, catching the perfect cut. It was the biggest stone I’d ever seen—and the most beautiful.
Orange flames danced inside the belly as my eyes finally drifted closed, I thought I felt him…I thought he called my name…like a sigh, like a whisper.
Harlow…
14
The howling wind woke me. I cracked open my eyes to stare at murky shadows. The faint smell of smoke lingered, thick and heady, as faint white tendrils floated to the ceiling.
Boots skidded across the ground as I dragged my knees against the hard flooring and then stilled. Pain ripped along my side, twisting and turning like pincers. I gripped the floor as dark spots floated in my eyes. Breathe…breathe.
Darkness came for me, leaving me empty and afraid. I clawed for the light, for the flashes that pinned me here as a whimper slipped free.
Use it…my father snarled. Use the pain, Harlow.
Down…down…down to where the emptiness waited—down to death.
My insides clenched tight, pain spiked, ramming through my bladder with a merciless blow. Get up…get up now. If you don’t, you never will…
They need you, Kenya’s voice swallowed the urgency, and the chubby face of Chuck filled my mind. Hurry, Harlow…they need you.
My hands wouldn’t work. My thoughts were slow, pushing, dragging, getting nowhere. I was nothing now, nothing more than pain, nothing more than desperation as I gripped the notebook and my jacket, and then tried to stand.
I focused on the movement, walking my hands up the wall before I drove my heels into the ground and shoved. My knees trembled, legs were weak.
But I could make it.
I could make it out of here.
Are you Pestilence?
The words stilled me…memories crowded in, leaving me to suck in the smoke. I coughed, and a fresh wave of pain flooded me. Gotta get out, gotta get outside, to the toilet…and then to the lab.
Pain drove me, but the Calling led the way. Pain drove me, but the Calling led the way.
The bitter wind hit me like a blow, whipping the strands of my hair into my eyes. I dropped my head, and took a step, and then another, and skirted the side of the building to where the hole in the wall waited. My fingers were slow, fumbling with my belt. I eased my jeans low, gripped the corner of the building, and squatted.
Fire lashed low down in my belly. I was in trouble, and it was more than the gash across my arm. It was something deep inside. Please don't let me die out here…
Damon could help me. Damon would know what to do. I yanked my jeans high, buttoned the waist, and yanked on my jacket.
Muffled amongst the screams of the wind, the faint sound of hooves haunted me. I focused on the towering building in the distance. My breath hitched with a step, and then another. I found a rhythm, timing breaths, timing steps, forcing myself to keep going, past familiar streets, until I’d left the towering office building far behind.
The sound of engines fought the hurricane roar. I stilled, scanning the streets behind me. The Mighty were out here, hunting. There was no Kenya now, and no pact. There was only me, and them...and the ring.
My steps slowed as I flinched with the memory. I’d had it in my hands, the stone smooth and perfect under my fingers, and now...now it was gone.
A weight settled heavy in my chest. The notebook crumpled inside my pocket. I scanned the nearby houses and what was left of the bricked-off buildings, and made for the waist-high grass as the faint sound of engines was carried on the wind.
Get inside. Stay hidden. I gripped the notebook and headed for the rear of the building. A car sat sideways in what had once been lush gardens. Now the place was a jungle, strangled by overgrown vines and hedges six feet high.
I speared through the underbrush, and swung my hand wide as thick cobwebs stuck to my face. The sound of the engines grew louder. I turned and flattened my spine against the side of a building and caught my breath.
Screams were carried on the wind, but they weren't the screams of a woman. They were the howls of a man...one captured in the throes of rage. "She's out here somewhere!”
My stomach tightened, heart thundering.
My fingers skimmed the notebook in my pocket. I dragged out the crumpled pages. Was this what they were searching for? The corners buckled under my fingers. I skimmed the words and turned to the page I’d stared at in the dark, the one lined with a heavy hand--the one desperate to show me the truth.
Blood-shot eyes, bleeding gums...this is the first sign of infection.
Not external...something new...can't tell the others--can't trust. I need someone else, someone not part of the circle...someone new.
Damon.
Chuck.
Kris.
It has to be one of them...it has to be…
Won’t make it…too sick. Maybe one, or two days left.
Harlow…
I stared at the words. Kenya knew what was happening. She knew the disease was being spread, and she knew it had to be one of those she cared about—someone she thought she could trust.
This was why she needed me. I stared at my underlined name before I closed the cover and stared into the brush.
I thought about not going back there, leaving Damon, Chuck, and Kris behind and my stomach hardened. But the dog...the damn dog.
I shook my head, there was no way I could leave her, or them. Three years I’d been alone. Three years with no one but the drug in my veins and the constant ache of loneliness.
You're a fighter, Dad's words filled me, making me take a step closer to the hedge and stare through. You’ve always been a fighter. So fight now.
The sound of the cars was gone now, the wind the only thing I could hear tearing through these streets. I eased to the corner of the brick building and waited.
Movement high up in a window caught my gaze. An old man leaned out, took one look at me, and smiled. He waved his hand, urging me forward and mouthed the words…hurry, go now.