Page 120 of Hunted in the Shadows
Leaving Rhett behind, I hurried back to find her by the truck. Her bloodied form stood unsteadily by the pickup truck. Relief flooded her face when she saw me.
“Thank the stars you’re alright!” she cried when I dropped to my knees before her. “W-where’s Cliff? Where—I have to help!” She spread her wings, her voice choking off in a pained whimper. The way she held her arm told me her iron wound must have been flaring from the extra damage. Her wings were still soaked, splattered with mud now, too.
“You have to hide,” I ordered breathlessly. “I’ll get you to that tree—stay underneath, out of sight.”
I reached for her, and she staggered back, hysteria bleeding into her words. “No! I need a higher vantage point for my magic!”
“You’re in no shape to fight!” I snapped. “The gemstone’s gone, Sylv—you need to lie low!”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “Absolutely not! I have to—”
“No—no, you need to listen, Sylv. If you go out there, you’ll die! Do you understand me? Cliff needs me too, so you’re going to—”
I lashed my hand toward her, but before my fingertips came within inches of her, cerulean burst from her palms. Pain ripped across my forearm—needle-like icicles embedding into the skin. I cursed, reeling back.
“Sylvia,” I breathed, knowing full well that she would strike again if needed.
She gave me a dirty look, skittering backward from me. Her wings flitted to shake off moisture, desperately preparing for flight as though she was entirely unconcerned about becoming another corpse on the shoreline. It didn’t matter what I said. I refused to go back to the night of the werewolf hunt, when I wasn’t sure if she’d ever open her eyes again.
I wasnotgoing to lose her.
In my mounting panic, I spotted supplies that had been tossed from the bed of another nearby truck, littering the ground. Harpoons, knives, nets… and a couple of small cages. These hunters knew what they were hoping to find by tracking us down. The cages were undoubtedly iron, perhaps originally intended for small reptiles or birds, but perfectly suitable for fairies.
Time whirred to a halt as my plan connected, cruel andperfect. I scrambled to the nearest cage, turning it over in my hands. It was a sturdy construction, its wiry bars webbed too close together for even a lizard to wriggle through. The base was a thin metal plate—no bolts. I grabbed hold of the edge and wrenched as hard as I could. The metal groaned, resisting—but it bent. At my third vicious pull, the bottom plate came free, leaving the interior open and exposed.
By then, Sylvia was fully behind the truck, sidestepping stalks of foliage while she attempted to dry her wings and put distance between us. She had less than a second to peer at the cage with glassy, terrified eyes before I slammed it over her, embedding the bars firmly into the soft earth. Her shriek of alarm softened into a groaned“oh”like the sound of someone who had just been punched in the gut.
Breathing heavily, I pulled my hands away and cautiously leaned down to watch. Sylvia stood at the center of the darkenedspace. She gaped at her hands as she swept her frantic gaze around the interior of the cage around her—then to me.
“Jon, what the hell are you doing?” Sylvia’s furious shout cracked with terror.
“I’m so sorry,” I managed. The wound she’d inflicted on my arm throbbed.
She charged toward me, only to resist the awful aura of the metal webbing separating us like she had run into an invisible wall. Her expression twisted, teeth gritted.
Sylvia paced the perimeter frantically, flexing her hands into casting formations, whispering familiar spells under her breath. Nothing happened. Trying to cast spells surrounded by iron was like trying to light a candle underwater—confirming what we both already knew: she was trapped.
Trapped, but safe. She was well hidden behind the truck, in the shadow of the tree line.
Her flats shuffled on the forest floor as she positioned herself as close to me as she could tolerate. The shock and horror on her face twisted into something else, something that sent chills racing up my bare arms.Rage—a raw anger she hadn’t fixed on me since our first meeting.
“Let me out. Get this damn thing off—NOW!”
“I can’t,” I panted.
Her breathing was labored and trembling, and the betrayal in her eyes stabbed deeper than any weapon. “You arenotdoing this to me,” Sylvia snarled—it was a command. “I am not some helpless trinket you can stow away. Let me out, or I’ll—” She tapered off, swallowing a threat.
I reached out, touching the cold iron mesh that separated us. This had to happen. And later, when she was warm and alive and we were far away from this hellscape, she wouldunderstand.
I muscled down the emotion in my voice, my gaze hardening. “I can’t watch you martyr yourself, Sylv. I won’t. I’m sorry. I’ll come back with Cliff, and we’ll get the fuck out of here.”
I forced myself to my feet. I dug Rhett’s handgun from beneath the truck nearby, checking its magazine. I glanced across the tangle of multi-colored cypress trees. There was a shotgun abandoned in the mud near a Jeep parked thirty feet away, if I could reach it.
“No, Jon—wait! Don’t do this, please.Please!” As I stepped away from her, Sylvia’s demands broke into begging. I didn’t look back at her—couldn’t bear to.
“Don’t touch the bars,” I told her in a tight voice. I knew how horrible she felt now—and how infinitely worse it would be if she made physical contact.
Sylvia's anguished scream tore through the forest—raw and utterly animal. It burned my mind like a brand as I strode back into the hunt.
