Haunted

Page 97

 
 
Chapter 45

AT THE DOORWAY, I STRAINED TO HEAR THOSE dragging footsteps, and picked up distant echoes of them. Good. At least I knew where he was—and that he wasn't anywhere near me. I hurried to the entrance, then cast my cover spell, my back to the tunnel. Again I listened. The footsteps were still faint. I cast my telekinesis spell, leaned into the boulder, and heaved. It didn't move.
Before I could push again, I heard the man coming back. I sidestepped to the wall, and pressed against it. I closed my eyes before casting the cover spell. If I needed to cast a binding spell, I'd stand a better chance of success if I could fully concentrate on it. More than that, I closed my eyes because I knew if I kept them open and saw that limping figure drawing closer, I'd panic.
As the footsteps approached, I tensed, mentally reciting the binding spell, ready to cast it if he bumped me. What if it didn't work? What if I let him get that close, and I couldn't stop him? And if I could bind him? Where would I go? This had to be the only exit. I could bind him and still be trapped, just waiting for the spell to snap—
The smell of rotting meat washed over me. The footsteps had stopped. Where was he? Right in front of me?
Why the hell had I closed my eyes? He could be right there, looking at me, cover spell blown, and I wouldn't know it. Of all the stupid—!
A grunt. So close that the exhaled air tickled my torn ear. Shit! The moment he moved so much as an inch, he would bump me and my cover would break. I had to act now. I was about to open my mouth to cast the binding spell, when I realized, even if it worked, I was trapped. I'd backed myself into the corner and he was blocking that corner. To get past him, I'd need to shove him aside, and that would break the binding spell. Goddamn it! How could I be so monumentally—
Stop!
Get past him first, then cast the binding spell. Have a fireball ready to distract him— the external hind, easy to cast. I tensed, ready to leap. Then, with another grunt, he turned and walked back into the cave.
The moment his footsteps receded as far as the doorway to that chamber of horrors, I opened my eyes, then recast the cover spell. He stopped at the room entrance, did a quick visual sweep, then, muttering away again, continued down the main passage.
I looked at the boulder. No time for fooling around with low-level magic. I needed to use the major telekinetic spell. It would drain my power supply completely, meaning if it wasn't enough to move this rock and he came back, I was screwed. Might as well just hand him a limb and let him start ripping.
Oh, stop that. Just because you'd be spell-powerless, doesn't make you powerless. If he comes back, you'll do what you'd do in any situation like that. Fight and run, run and fight. He's a man.
 
Nothing more. You'll fight and you'll run and you'll pray that someone conies to get you out of this hell before it's too late.
Pep talk over, I rubbed my hands over my face, pushing past the lingering wisps of panic. Then I put my hands against the boulder, dug my feet into the dirt floor, cast the major telekinesis spell, and heaved.
The rock shuddered. I kept pushing. Another shudder, then it began to move, inching up from the depression.
A noise behind me. Thump. Drag. Thump. Drag.
A cover spell flew to my lips, but I forced it back. If I broke the telekinesis cast, it would be an hour or more before I could recast it, and even something as low-voltage as a cover spell might not work now, with my power level so low.
Keep pushing.
A grunt echoed down the corridor behind me. A different kind of grunt. One of surprise. Then the footsteps sped up. A roar of exultation. He could see me. Shit! Turn and run. It's your only chance.
No! Push harder. Cast the spell again and push like your life depends on it.
I closed my eyes, cast the telekinesis spell, and threw everything I had into one final shove. The rock shuddered, then jumped out of the hole. Fingers grabbed my shoulder. I whirled, kicking blindly. A sharp grunt as my foot connected. I twisted, dove for the narrow opening, and pushed my arms and torso through. One leg made it out. Then fingers dug into my other ankle. A tremendous wrench. I flew back, hitting the dirt of the hillside, wedged now, one leg in, one out. He pulled again. Pain ripped through me as my legs scissored, hips threatening to dislocate.
In that moment, the option I'd been trying so hard to fight sprang unbidden into my head. I heard Kristof's voice.
If you get stuck in there, absolutely stuck, you don't quit on me, either— you fight, even if it means you need that damned sword to do it.
I'd promised him I'd do that, and I would, if it came to that. But it hadn't yet. Not just yet.
I held myself as still as I could, struggling against the urge to claw my way out. The second his grip relaxed, as he braced for another heave, I kicked the leg trapped in his hands, not pulling it out, but kicking back, at him. Another grunt of surprise, and his grip loosened. I jerked my leg back again, and his grip slid along my ankle, tightening again around my sneaker. One big heave, and my foot flew free of my shoe and I sailed face-first to the ground.
A roar from the cavern. As I scrambled up, I saw his arms flailing through the opening, clawing at the air as he tried to push himself through the narrow gap. I didn't stay to see whether he'd succeed. The second I was on my feet again, I was off and running.
For the first few minutes, I ran blindly, tree branches whipping my face, stumbling as undergrowth caught my feet, tripping along in one shoe, fumbling through the inky blackness. As the cave fell farther behind, I slowed enough to listen for sounds of pursuit. Nothing. On the heels of that relief came a mental curse.
What the hell was I doing charging through the forest like a panicked deer? Had I forgotten the others?
Six or seven more killers combing the woods, searching for me?
I stopped to get my bearings. The forest was silent. After another moment, I shook myself, bent down, and removed my other shoe. Easier to run in none than one. I tucked the shoe under a bush—no sense giving my trackers any clues. Then I straightened and cast a light-ball. Nothing happened. Was I that low? Dumb question, really. I knew I was that low on spell-power. I could feel it, a barely-there pulse in my head where normally there was a steady stream of energy.
I closed my eyes, leaned against a tree, and waited. After a few minutes, I cast again. The light-ball appeared for a couple of seconds, then fizzled out with a faint pop. I swallowed a growl of frustration and rolled my shoulders, trying to relax. No sense running in complete darkness. Wait for the spell.