A Lying Witch Book One

  Chapter 9

  It was when I was lying in bed that I heard something. Faint at first, I tried to ignore it as I pulled the pillow further under my face and nuzzled it.

  But soon the noise became too loud to ignore.

  It sounded like something scratching at the window.

  Though I was sleepy, I rolled my eyes as I realized what it must be.

  Max.

  “Max, why do you have to insist on using the window?” I roared as I snapped out of bed.

  It was dark and had to be the middle of the night.

  There were no lights on in my room, and for some reason there didn’t appear to be any functioning lights on the street outside, either.

  Stomping, I made my way over to the window.

  I jerked back the corner of the curtain to reveal the window.

  I expected to see Max tapping on the glass like a giant Scottish bird.

  I screamed and jerked back.

  All I saw were two red eyes. Two red glowing eyes. Then four glowing eyes. Then six. They kept popping out of the impenetrable darkness beyond the window like daisies appearing in a field after rain.

  I felt backward, struck the carpet, and scooted along on my back.

  My whole body shook with convulsions of fear as more and more red eyes appeared just beyond the glass.

  Then the rattling began.

  Black, formless hands started to pound on the glass, trying to break through.

  I screamed, using every ounce of vocal strength I had to let it pitch and rattle through the room.

  Suddenly I heard thundering footsteps from downstairs. They mounted the stairs, growing louder and louder until I heard an equally insistent pounding on the door to my room.

  “Chi?” Max bellowed.

  I screamed hysterically as the window practically buckled.

  “Open the door!” Max insisted.

  I didn't have time to punch to my feet and sail towards the chest of drawers that were still blocking entry into the room. Instead, I just sat there in total fear as those things outside continued to pound on the glass as if it were a blacksmith's anvil.

  When I didn't respond, I heard a boom from the other side of the door.

  Suddenly the chest of drawers was blasted from its barricading position and toppled forward, spewing its contents all through the room. I had to duck and roll out of the way not to be pinned by one of the drawers.

  A second later, Max came barreling into the room.

  At first, he locked his eyes on my cowering form in the corner. Then he swiveled his attention to the window.

  The eyes had disappeared. And for a single, gut-shaking second I wondered if it had all been in my head – if I'd imagined everything.

  Nope.

  Suddenly the eyes appeared once more, and I even saw black-clad fists reach forward and pound the glass like a hammer to a nail.

  “Move,” Max suddenly spat as he twisted on the spot, shoved down to one knee, locked a hand around my wrist, and pulled me to my feet.

  I was a cowering mess, and yet I managed to find enough balance to follow him out of the room. I had to pick my way through the mounds of clothes and the drawers that were spilled everywhere.

  When I didn't move fast enough, Max scooped me up from behind with such a smooth move it was like we were figure skaters.

  He leaped over the remnants of the chest of drawers and landed outside in the hallway with a heavy move that shook the very walls.

  From behind us, I finally heard the sound of glass shattering.

  I screamed. But my scream wasn't nearly as loud as theirs. For suddenly I heard ten or more screeching bellows pierce the air and rattle my bones.

  “Shit,” Max swore under his breath as he indulged in looking over his shoulder for a brief second before snapping around and powering down the corridor.

  I was shaking, all over. Heck, I was shaking on the insides, too. It felt like I would dislodge my internal organs and squeeze them out of my mouth.

  Though that was a truly sickening image, it wasn't nearly as sickening as the sounds of the chase from behind.

  Whatever foul magical creatures were after us, they sounded like hell itself. Their screams and hissing breaths were so otherworldly, all I could do was turn my head and press it against Max's chest.

  Before today, I'd never been the kind of girl who would run from a fight. But before today, my fights had been fair.

  Max reached the stairs and hesitated, head jerking upwards. It was clear he wanted to take me up to the attic. But as the sound of chase became louder from behind, it was just as clear that we didn't have the time.

  With another loud expletive, he shoved hard on his foot and pushed down the stairs, somehow taking two at a time.

  I made no attempt whatsoever to pull myself from his grip. For one, I would need a crowbar and a blowtorch. For another, I didn't fancy my chances of being able to outrun our attackers.

  Our attackers… they'd gotten into the house, found me in the middle of the night. Though we were still in the middle of a chase for our lives, that fact struck me as if someone had written it on a placard and slapped me across the face with it.

  This was real. It. Was. Real. There was no more hiding from this magical world, because it seemed intent on hunting me down at every opportunity.

  Max threw himself down the stairs so quickly, I was sure he'd lose his balance and we'd end up breaking our necks. He didn't, though. But neither did he turn around and start using that magic of his. The magic that smelt like grass and felt like sun on my cheeks and sounded like far-off horse hooves.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and jumped onto the first-floor landing. His boots pounded out with rattling shakes, sounding like jackhammers that shook the house with every blow.

  His breath was remarkably regulated, even if he did waste it every few seconds to turn over his shoulder and swear at our attackers.

  So I concentrated on his breath – deep and regular – as it was the only damn thing I could hold onto now.

  I didn't get the chance to ask Max where we were going. Though I was totally freaked out, and my body was shaking like a flag in a gale, I still appreciated that it wouldn't be a good idea to take this fight out onto the city street. Maybe we'd have more of a chance out there, but it would be too public.

  I didn't have time to appreciate that that was almost a good thought – and certainly not the kind of suggestion my twisted morality usually offered.

  Nope, I didn't have the time, because Max reached the lounge room. He skidded in, moving so fast that he had to shove his shoulder into the door frame with a rattling thump in order to control his speed.

  The fire was on, crackling in the hearth.

  It was an open fire, a fact I noted as Max sped towards it.

  My mind told me he was aiming for one of the heavy boxes on the mantelpiece. That, or he wanted the fire poker.

  That's not what he wanted, though.

  We reached the fire, and a thrill of pure terror jolted through my heart as he didn't stop.

  Muttering the strangest words under his breath, he let go of me.

  Max the fairy threw me on the fire.

  The hearth was wide, the fireplace more than large enough to take my crumpled up form.

  I didn't even have the chance to scream. Pure, pure terror pulsed through me with such power, it felt like I would explode.

  Or burn.

  I landed on the crackling logs and blistering hot coals.

  … But they did not burn me.

  Instead, I felt energy charge through me, crackling over my arms and legs and face until it covered me in full.

  Behind me, I felt Max plow into the fire, too.

  And that's when his magic took hold.

  Suddenly, everything changed. Just as my fear exploded and threatened to take the last scraps of my mind with it, the flame licking over my body disappeared. The burning logs beneath my hands and legs disappeared, too. As did the blistering
hot coals.

  In a rush of energy, everything changed.

  I landed on something cold, hard, and wet.

  It took me several terrifying seconds to realize it was asphalt. It took my broken mind even longer to jerk my head back and realize I was in a darkened laneway.

  … No…. No. This wasn't possible—

  I didn't have time to doubt anything. Max appeared right behind me in a wave of magic and fire. He shoved down, caught my arm, and pulled me to my feet.

  I couldn't stand. My mind was telling me I was back in that fire, about to burn to death in the most horrible way possible. My body was telling me I wasn't burning – it was raining.

  Max picked me up once more, the move so easy for him he might as well have been picking up a kitten.

  He proceeded to run through the rain-soaked streets.

  He kept turning his head over his shoulder as if he expected an attack.

  I could barely breathe, but finally, I found the strength and coordination to jerk my lips open to scream.

  Max wouldn't let me. He could hardly spare a hand, as he was using both to lock me to his chest. He still leaned in, though, made sudden and unmistakable eye contact. “Make no noise – you'll draw them out of the darkness,” he said, quick breath breaking against my cheeks.

  I lay still in his arms, immobilized by fear.

  I couldn't catch up, just didn't have the skills to figure out what was happening.

  Max continued to run through the streets, never striking a main road. He would stop at the mouth of any laneways, listening for something before choosing the darkest, most secluded path forward.

  The pounding drone of his heavy footfall started to lull me, started to calm me as the drenching rain finally convinced my body that I couldn't be burning.

  I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to figure out what the hell could be happening, hell being the operative word.

  Those eyes in the dark, those pitching, inhuman screams. They had to come from monsters.

  Monsters.

  Max had warned me they'd come, but I'd ignored him, hadn't I?

  Worse… I'd brought this on myself.

  If it were possible, I suddenly froze all the more, muscles seizing up with such finality it was as if I were going into rigor mortis.

  Before I'd gone to sleep – though that memory was now far off – I'd ignored something, hadn't I? I'd turned away from those sparks, from the future….

  The rain started to pound down even heavier than before. As I squeezed open one eye, I watched it sail down in vertical sheets. I was soaked, and as I darted my gaze to the side, I appreciated that Max was, too. His cropped hair was slicked, his face marked by lines of water that drained off his face and darted off his jaw in splashing waves. His usually tight gray T-shirt now clung to him, revealing every single line of his body.

  As we darted past a flickering streetlight and caught the reflected illumination of a headlight from the end of the street, I saw Max's expression. Appreciated the sheer determination crumpling his brow and angling his jaw hard.

  It… distracted me.

  It reminded me that he was saving me, again.

  To be honest, I hadn't picked up the sounds of chase since we'd left the house. Somehow – I still couldn't reconcile the fact that we were now out here on the city streets.

  That wasn't the point, though. The point was, surely it was safe now.

  “Ma-” I began.

  He crumpled forward, pressing me closer to his chest, trying to stifle my words. “Shh,” he said under his breath, whispering so low that I could only pick it up because I was a precious few centimeters from his lips. Again I felt his warm, gentle breath break against my cheeks, and again, it calmed me despite this break-neck situation.

  “But they're gone,” I whispered back.

  “No, they aren't,” he responded in that same gentle whisper.

  My back became electrified with nerves. I shifted my head back, reluctantly plucking it from his chest as I tried to peer through the darkness.

  I searched the shadow – every shadow – for a sign of attack.

  Once upon a time, I would have labeled Chi McLane as a brave woman. After all, I had zero problem with confrontation, and I was a pretty independent person.

  Clearly, I'd simply never been tested.

  Because suddenly I heard it. Or maybe I felt it. Or maybe some far off part of my mind told me it had to be there.

  Point was, I became convinced that there was something right behind the van to our left.

  Max had taken us down a winding side street. It was lined with old, dilapidated three-story brick buildings and broken, long, metal warehouses.

  The gutters gushed with rain, trailing Styrofoam cups, wrappers, and cardboard burger cases into the storm drains.

  Not once did Max skid in those distinctive camel-colored leather boots. He had the balance of a gymnast.

  So why had he fallen on me in the bathroom? Some part of me suddenly wondered. A part that should really be paying more attention to the fact we were in a race for our lives.

  I felt it again. Those sparks. They didn’t quite explode over my vision like I was getting accustomed to. They didn’t squirm in front of my eyes like dying fireflies. Instead, I caught the barest hint of them. It was almost like a visual echo.

  My eyes tracked them until I locked on something beside one of the truly run-down factories.

  There was a small gap between the side of the factory and a broken four-story brick building beside it. There was an old, overflowing dumpster, and behind it….

  I jolted, twisting hard into Max, practically climbing him as I tried to get away from the creature in the dark.

  “Chi.” He struggled to pull me off.

  “There’s something behind the dumpster!” I roared.

  He came to a screeching stop, his boots dislodging a line of water that splashed across the van to our side.

  I felt every single one of Max’s muscles harden, which was saying something. His shoulders suddenly felt as if they’d been carved from marble, his back and arm and biceps and chin nothing more than cast steel.

  If you’d asked me a few days ago, I would have told you that I would have a level head in a critical situation. Okay, as I’d previously mentioned – I wasn’t good with certain things like violent crime, flying planes, or telling complete strangers that my grandma was dead.

  Still, I’d been around the block, as it were, and theoretically, I could keep my nerve.

  Not today. God, not today.

  I was climbing Max like he was some kind of tree as if I was a scared cat trying to get away from a dog.

  He pulled me back but didn’t let go of me as he stiffly angled his head towards the dumpster.

  I saw something shift in the deep, dark shadows behind it.

  My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my heart grind to a standstill.

  Again, I caught a glimpse of those magical pricks of light flitting through my vision.

  Though my brain told me to stare at that dumpster, the pricks of light played to my left until I jerked my head to the side, following them.

  That’s when I saw a long shadow flitting behind the van to our side.

  Acting on complete, pure instinct, I shoved into Max. “Move!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  Though the rain still pounded down from above, I knew how to scream, and boy did my shrill voice split the air like a blast from a horn.

  Max didn’t need to be told (or screamed at) twice. He shifted to the side revealing his true magical reflexes as he moved with all the speed and grace of a cheetah.

  It was just in time.

  Something sailed down from the top of the van. It sliced into the pavement, literally splitting it in half. The most godawful sound filled the air as something screamed right behind Max.

  He jolted forward, pushing into a roll. Problem was, I was still in his arms. And yet, don’t ask me how, but the Scottish fairy managed it. It h
appened so quickly that I didn’t have a second to appreciate the feel of his body crumpling around me, only the sound of battle behind.

  Another one of those ear-splitting screams split the air, sounding like some dinosaur from some film.

  A certain smell filled the air, too – a hot one.

  Though the rain still drove down from above, drenching the streets, that didn’t matter.

  I started to feel heat buffet out from something behind Max.

  It played along my arms and cheeks, sinking easily through the once cold rain to my exposed flesh beneath.

  “Shit,” Max bellowed as he threw himself away from the van and that strange heat.

  He seemed to hesitate for half a second before he threw himself at the warehouse before us.

  It wasn’t just run down – even from the outside, I could tell it was likely to fall down any second now.

  Along the top of the tall, long building were a row of windows. Or at least a row where windows had once been. Now there was nothing more than shards of broken glass, random scraps of fabric and plastic skewered on them and flapping in the storm.

  The building itself was made from some amalgam of steel sheets and wood. It looked cheap, and it obviously hadn’t stood the test of time as the sheets that constituted the walls were all bent and warped, thin, yellowed, torn insulation puffing out from the gaps.

  There was a barricaded door, two large, heavy wooden beams slung across the front, held in place with a seriously mean looking chain and lock.

  Max didn’t hesitate. He didn’t have time, after all. That heat was now ten times worse. It felt like we’d walked out of the storm and right into a sauna. No, scratch that – a volcano.

  I grit my teeth, trying to fight against the pain. Max just moved.

  As soon as we reached the door, he whispered something under his breath. His body lit up with light. Power charged down his torso and into his shoulder.

  He twisted on his foot, his boot squeaking as he plowed shoulder-first into the locked and barricaded door.

  I winced as I expected us to fly backward, rebuffed by the steel and wood.

  We weren’t rebuffed.

  There was a great snap, and the wood splintered, shards blasting out in a great arc as if the poles had been struck by a cannon ball and not a Scotsman’s shoulder.

  The chain shattered, too. Max’s magic appeared to do something to it. Eat into it, weaken it in a cascade of light and crackles.

  With a roar splitting from his lips, Max managed to push his way in.

  Instantly the musty scent of the warehouse met my already seared nostrils. It smelt like this place hadn’t been opened in years.

  Though the terror of the chase still filled me to the point of popping, I managed to perceive enough through the darkness to contemplate what the hell had been stored in this warehouse.

  There were plastic sheets everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. There were upturned milk crates and old 44-gallon drums. And covering them were old, moldering sheets of thick white translucent plastic.

  The plastic was stained in places with some dried up red liquid that looked suspiciously like blood.

  No… it didn’t look like blood; it was blood. That’s what that awful metallic smell was.

  I didn’t have time to draw a hand up and cram it over my face to block out that godawful realization – Max abruptly and violently screeched to a standstill.

  “Shit, this is a trap!” he bellowed.

  My stomach sank so far and hard I could have retched.

  I could no longer hear that awful, ear-splitting screeching from outside. Instead, I heard silence. Total eerie silence. The kind of silence that felt like it was ticking down to something.

  “Max, what's going on?” I stuttered, barely able to push the words out.

  Max didn't answer. He turned hard on his foot, swinging around as he appeared to search for something. It couldn't be a way out – as there was one right behind us: the doorway he'd just crafted with his shoulder.

  Yet, a second later, that doorway no longer existed.

  Something rammed into it, closing it shut. Except it wasn't the actual doors that slammed to. Oh no – it was some enormous gelatinous black mass.

  I screamed as soon as I saw it, shuddering further back into Max's tight embrace.

  I didn't have to point out that I'd never seen anything like it. Because it was completely impossible. The wet sound of it was the most awful thing I'd ever heard – a cross between someone plunging a drain and some old codger clearing his throat.

  It also stank to high heaven, a cross between cloying sulfur and burning nails.

  I crammed a hand over my mouth and tried to breathe through my sweaty fingers.

  Max swore again, his brogue shaking down his chest and into my arm.

  With wide-open eyes, I stared at the underside of his face.

  It was half dark in this warehouse. Though it was a dark, raining night, somehow there was still enough light making it in from the broken windows high above that I could make out the side of Max's face. In fact, as he twisted on the spot and tilted his head back, I suddenly realized that the roof was broken in several places, massive gaping holes letting in the wind.

  But not the rain.

  The holes in the roof weren't just tiny cracks. Oh no. It looked as if someone had plunged a wrecking ball through the steel and tin.

  So there should be rain all over the floor. Massive pools of it. There wasn't, though. Just that blood-soaked plastic.

  I had zero experience with magic. Absolutely zilch. Apart from the sparks that sometimes invaded my vision and the grass-and-sunshine magic of Max, magic was nothing but an enigma to me.

  Well, now I felt it.

  Faint, but there. It was like tiny electrified pins plucking at my skin and stabbing at the base of my spine.

  Max swore once more, his powerful brogue shaking through the room until I swore the roof shook.

  “W-where are we? What's happening?” I managed.

  Max didn't answer. He warily moved into the middle of the room, constantly darting his head from left-to-right as he obviously searched for a way out.

  But there was no way out.

  I caught sight of the side of his face once more. I'd seen Max act tough, and god knows I'd seen him act indignant. Now? Now he looked terrified.

  “You – you can put me down,” I managed in the world's highest falsetto.

  He didn't answer.

  “Max,” I forced myself to say, “you need your arms.”

  He jerked his head down to me and made eye contact for the briefest fraction of a second. I looked right up at him, making no attempt to hide the tears of fear touching my cheeks, and yet making no attempt to retract my offer, either.

  “Aye,” he muttered, word snapped like a sapling suddenly buckling under excess weight.

  He put me down. It was a quick and yet gentle move. My mind wanted to suggest that that summed up Max completely, yet my reason couldn't forget his anger and arrogance.

  Or could it? Because right now Max was the only force capable of keeping me safe.

  I had to use all my balance and strength not to fall over the moment he put me down. It wasn't because the floor was covered in that sickly stained plastic. It was that I felt so weak my muscles may as well have been dried up jelly.

  “Keep close,” Max warned, voice shaking through me.

  I pushed into his back. He probably hadn't meant that close, but I couldn't help myself. He didn't push me away, either, just kept spinning on the spot as he desperately searched for a way out.

  But a way out didn't come.

  I saw several sparks collect to the right of my vision. I jerked my head up just in time to see some indistinct form climbing along the broken windows.

  “Max.” I latched a hand on his arm and jerked him backward, pointing towards the windows.

  Despite the distance, I saw the eyes. The red eyes that reminded me of those devilish glowing pinpri
cks I'd seen outside of my bedroom window.

  “Shit!” Max roared. “Darklings.”

  My back seized up on that word, on the terrifying way he said it.

  Again I caught sight of the side of his face, and again I was almost bowled over by how terrified he seemed. And if Max the strong magical fairy was terrified, then I was a goner.

  I kept a hand pressed into his hard back, feeling his muscles practically twang under my sweaty fingers.

  I… had to do something. But I didn't get the chance to finish that thought.

  I saw more of those fiendish red eyes appear near the windows. Then I heard the unmistakable sounds of climbing: scrabbling feet, plucking fingers, creaking bones.

  “Chi, first chance you get, you run,” Max demanded, his accent thicker than I'd ever heard it.

  I didn't reply.

  “Chi!” he screamed.

  “I run,” I managed through a choked gasp as I watched more and more of those darklings climb through the shattered window. I heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing over the remaining shards of glass, but it didn't even appear to slow them down.

  Though my fear-filled mind should have been beyond counting, I managed to figure out that there were ten of them. Ten darklings. Max had been terrified at the prospect of one darkling. Now there were ten.

  Something suddenly struck me. It felt like a baseball bat to the face.

  I wasn't going to make it out of here, was I?

  I was going to die tonight. Violently.

  The tears suddenly dried up. So did the terror. In its place, I didn't suddenly grow a set of balls.

  Nope, I became a cold, frozen, numb lump.

  Max, however, didn't give me the option to remain frozen for long. He struck out with his hand.

  A blast of his magic sailed towards the closest darkling. The thing jerked to the side, but it wasn't quick enough. The magic sliced into its black arm.

  No – that wasn’t right. Its arm wasn’t black. Its arm was pure, crystalline white as if the flesh had never seen the light of day. It was just wearing black clothes. Clothes that seemed to cover its entire body right up to those pinprick red eyes.

  The scent of burnt flesh filled the air, cloying at my nostrils and raking at my throat.

  Two of the darklings circled towards us from behind. Before I could point this out to Max, he roared, pivoted on his foot, and threw himself towards them, a scream bellowing and pitching from his throat.

  With two snapped words, the magic pulsed over his form, covering it entirely until all I could make out was his sneering face.

  He pelted towards the two darklings, throwing his arms wide in a rugby tackle. They didn’t have the time to dodge out of the way, and there was a sickening crunch as he brought them to the ground. There was more than a crunch, too, as a splitting hissing filled the air. I quickly realized it was the sound of Max’s magic burning through the darkling’s defenses. They screeched, but as he pinned them to the floor with his massive arms, they could not escape.

  “Chi, run,” Max bellowed.

  His snapped word sent a thunderbolt sailing through my gut, and I spun on the spot.

  I did not, however, run. I didn’t get the chance.

  Suddenly two of those darklings sailed down from above. I hadn’t heard them climbing through the windows, but they must have scaled them and clambered over the walls. Now they dropped down around me like two silent spiders descending on threads of web.

  I jolted back, sweat slicking my brow until I thought I’d drown under it.

  “Chi!” Max screamed.

  I couldn’t respond.

  The darklings seemed to be half human, half animal. The way they moved was like a cross between a monkey and a snake. Their heads twisted to the side in jerking fashions as they hugged the ground with their bodies, their legs bent low and their arms hanging close to their knees.

  I shook with pure terror.

  “Chi!” Max managed, but his voice was muffled, choppy.

  I didn’t need to turn my head to realize he was occupied in a fight.

  Which left me alone.

  Though I now knew what these creatures were, a name was hardly a weapon. I had no clue at all what they were capable of, let alone how to fight them.

  As the desperation powered through me and shook hard down my back, I begged for the sparks to come back. After my disastrous bath, I’d pushed them away, terrified of what they could bring. Now I prayed for their return with every scrap of energy I had.

  But praying would get me nowhere.

  I heard another light thump behind me, and I twisted my head sharply to the side to see another darkling drop down from above.

  There could be no doubt that they were after me.

  I heard Max try to scream my name a few times, heard the unmistakable sound of his heavy boots squeaking against the floor. But it was obvious he could not come to my aid.

  I was on my own.

  The three darklings circled me, all on their haunches, all with their heads tilting and snapping to the sides with quick, sickening moves.

  I shook so violently I could barely remain standing. My bare feet kept slipping against the blood-soaked plastic.

  The only thing running through my mind was that I was about to die – die like whatever creatures had offered up their blood to cover this floor.

  Max didn’t get the chance to scream at me again. The darklings pounced.

  I slipped as I jerked backward, slamming hard onto the concrete floor, the move jolting painfully through my hips and down my leg.

  I didn’t have time to let out a scream – the first darkling was upon me. I heard its scattering claws slip and slice through the plastic as it leaped high and landed on my back.

  Its black-clad fingers snaked out and locked around my mouth, pulling my head violently to the side.

  A pulse of fear sailed through me, obliterating the last of my hope as I realized this was it.

  This was it.

  Yet rather than snap my neck, I felt another darkling leap towards me, heard the scattering of its claws as it tore up the plastic beside me and came to a shuddering stop by my side. It locked its sinewy fingers around my left wrist and pinned me in place. From the other side, I heard the remaining darkling pounce. He did the same – coming to a shuddering stop by my side and clamping his rope-like fingers around my wrist to lock me in place.

  The darkling on my back pushed me into the floor with all its weight. And though I bucked and fought, I didn't have the strength to throw it off. All I could do was shudder as I felt its thin, strong fingers wrap tighter and tighter around my mouth as its weight and magic pushed me harder and harder into the floor.

  I started to feel more than the thing's strength. I started to feel its magic, too. It ate into me like thousands of mouths trying to tear through my very cells.

  A new blast of panic shot through me as I tried to shove it off with the last of my strength. It didn't work.

  I felt the darkling on my back suddenly yank my head up. My shuddering heart told me it was about to bash my head against the plastic-covered floor.

  And that's exactly what it did. With a soft hissing sound like air escaping a high-pressure pipe, it yanked my head back then slammed it against the floor.

  Pain exploded through my forehead and nose as blood started to drip over my lips. Then the stars started to swim through my vision. These were not the bursts of light that indicated a vision. No, these were the last sparks of consciousness before I blacked out.

  I had time enough to hear Max scream my name before the darkling yanked my head back one last time and slammed it against the moldered-plastic-covered floor.

  I lost consciousness with a blast.