Page 121 of Hunted in the Shadows
25
Jon
Iswallowed a gag when I stepped into the clearing. Body parts bobbed in the foamy black water, a grim mix of human and fairy. The number of attacking sirens had dwindled by half, but I only saw two scaly bodies on the bank, bronze blades protruding from the bony backs. Perhaps the others were beneath the surface in a watery grave. A tiny, iridescent wing, severed from its host, lapped against the shore with every beat of the tide. Fresh bile rose in my throat.
I glanced between the abandoned shotgun up ahead and the foggy shore, desperate to get eyes on Cliff.
Four outpost hunters were left, shouts mingling with measured gunfire and the eerie, melodic hums of remaining sirens. On the slope to my left, movement pulled my eyes—burly, decked head-to-toe in tactical camo—coming straight for me. The hunter’s gaze locked onto mine, then shifted to the pickup truck behind me. Recognition flashed over his face, followed by suspicion. I glanced down at the handgun I clutched—Rhett’sgun.
Resolved, I stepped into his path. He swung first, his serrated bronze hunting knife aimed at my stomach. I dodged, countering with a brutal blow to the ribs. He groaned but didn’t buckle. The hunter snarled and pushed forward like a bull—throwing his weight on me, grabbing a fistful of my black tee. The contact sent pain radiating down my wounded shoulder, but I dug myheels into the yielding earth, throwing him off to ensure he had no chance of glimpsing where I’d stashed Sylvia.
He charged at me again—as I knew he would. I caught his free arm and twisted hard enough to make him stagger. I followed with a blow to his throat. The hunter doubled over, his breathing turning to ragged gasps as his windpipe collapsed. I stood over him, considering a targeted kick to the liver to end this quickly.
Then—rustling.
The sound came from behind me in the branches, making hair rise on the back of my neck. The muddy earth roiled and gave way beneath my feet like it was opening into hell itself. Vines shot up like vipers as three fairies looped gracefully toward us, their wings glinting an iridescent array of colors in the rising sun.
Fucking earth affinities.
I released the other hunter as the vines slithered toward us with alarming speed. He cried out, gasping as the vines coiled around his legs, up his waist, dragging him down.
“Help!” The man lunged, grasping my leg and pulling desperately. Whether he meant to drag himself free or doom us both, I wouldn’t let it happen. With a grunt, I shoved him off, tearing free of the fresh vines curling around my mud-caked boots. His eyes bulged with panic as the vines coiled over his neck, clawing him onto the ground with unearthly strength.
A hiss came from above—one of the fairies, hands aglow with spellwork that targeted me. I lifted the handgun and fired off a round into the branches to disorient them, just long enough to sprint out of range.
The man’s cries for help became garbled behind me. I stole a look over my shoulder and winced. The vines cocooned his body against the dirt. The fairies were three pricks of light hovering above him, untouchable. With the other hunters occupied at the water, he had no escape.
I didn’t wait to watch as the vines pulled into the earth, dragging his body inside like a cruel sacrifice.
I ran through the cypress, the water sparkling ahead of me. A stocky female hunter stood boldly on the water’s edge, shielding her eyes with one arm and firing a harpoon into the swamp with the other. One of her shots struck true, hitting a siren—which cried a warbled, watery moan as it vanished beneath the surface.
Don’t look them in the eye.
I threw an arm over my face, looking up only sparingly as I navigated through the trees. Even a brief glance could end me—could leave Sylvia trapped and vulnerable—so I moved from one shadow to the next. I dodged the earth affinities’ attention, pausing only to scoop up the shotgun from the mud. I checked the safety and tucked the handgun into the waistband of my sodden jeans, letting the familiar weight of the shotgun settle in my palms.
I pressed forward, my focus finally landing on my target: Cliff. He burst out from the foliage, having finally snapped his restraints. He dove for the nearest handgun beside a corpse halfway in the water. He searched around wildly until his eyes found me past the other hunters who still stood between us. They, at least, had their hands full with fighting for their lives.
If I could just get to him, we could turn the tides on this fuckshow and get the hell out of there.
My mind spun with strategy and formation as we raced toward each other. If I could take out the sirens while he kept the fairies at bay, we could push through. With the hunters’ numbers dwindling, I doubted they’d be stupid enough to make us a target, no matter how pissed.
To my horror, a siren was bold enough to drag herself past the water. She lunged, digging her talons into Cliff’s leg before he could see her coming. Attempting to shake her off, he whirled toshoot her. The siren pulled at him—hard. Cliff staggered—and his eyes caught hers.
He went perfectly still.
“Cliff!” I shouted, but it was too late.
His expression went blank, and instead of stumbling toward the water, he gazed along the shoreline. He set his sights on the other hunters and raised his gun. I watched in helpless, abject horror as the most lethal hunter in the country took aim against his own.
I loosed a shaky curse under my breath. There was no fucking chance of dodging a shot if he shot at me—but there were a couple of other hunters between us, too distracted to notice his allegiance had changed.
Keeping my eyes trained away from the water, I surged forward.
Even when he wasn’t himself, Cliff’s skills were a sight to behold. Incredible. Terrifying.
BLAM—the female hunter hit the ground with a thud.
BLAM—another one cried out and stumbled too close to the water. At once, he was swarmed by sirens, vanishing into the depths.
