Page 88 of Hunted in the Shadows
Her eyes rolled back, and she slumped. I caught her before she could hit the ground, pulling her away from the broken glass. She was limp for all of three seconds before she blinked in confusion. She jolted when she saw she was in my arms, then scanned her surroundings—each of our faces, and then the shattered dish.
Gwen drew closer, laying a tender hand on her forehead. “It’s alright—”
Hannah whimpered, tears filling her eyes. “You shouldn’t be standing.”
“It’s fine—Sylvia healed me. All better now.”
A hint of wonder lay buried beneath Hannah’s tears as she glanced at Sylvia. Then she gave Gwen a horrified, inquisitive look. “Just now—did I…?”
Pursing her lips, Gwen gave a small nod.
“I—I’m so sorry,” Hannah said, lookingbetween each of us.
Flighty with embarrassment, Hannah pushed away from me and mumbled something about getting a broom. She retreated back into the kitchen, shivering.
“Is she okay?” Sylvia asked.
“She’s fine.” Gwen turned to us and steadied herself. “Load up the car. Go look for your fairies, and try not to die. Alright?”
“Hey.” Cliff grabbed her shoulder before she could flee. “What the hell was that?”
“Just a little panic attack. Nothing a hug and a Xanax can’t fix. Get going.”
“Gwen,” Cliff said, his gaze soft despite the‘don’t feed me bullshit’command that lay behind it.
Hannah brushed through the hallway that led to the bedroom, one hand cradling her head—refusing to look at any of us. Gwen hesitated, gaze sweeping over the three of us before settling on Cliff again. Something yielded in her face.
“It’s okay, I promise,” Gwen said. “We’ll talk later. I’ve got this.”
She followed Hannah, disappearing into the bedroom where their voices dropped into hushed decibels.
“It can’t be possession, can it?” I asked once we were outside in the early afternoon light. “I didn’t feel any cold spots. And retired or not, Gwen wouldn’t just stand by while a spirit took the wheel on her girlfriend.”
“No, she would’ve taken care of that ages ago,” Cliff muttered, eyes distant.
After being the subject of her frenzy, I couldn’t blame him for being shaken. What thefuckdid that mean? The only legends about me and Cliff that had circulated wide enough in the hunter community was the hunt that earned us theAppalachian Reapersnomer, and even then… It just didn’t add up. Hannah wasn’t a hunter. She wouldn’t have known about any of that.
My boots crunched over the gravel of the auto lot, Sylvia’s wings a steady hum beside me. She rubbed her arms, as though the slight chill in the damp air was suddenly unbearable.
“It didn’t feel malicious,” she said. “Not like the spirits I’ve felt before. Just…intense. Like a hive of bees in my mind, out of nowhere.”
She screwed up her face, pulling at the roots of her fiery hair—like the energy was something she could claw out of her head.
As we approached the loaner Accord, I stole a sidelong look at Sylvia. She was already looking at me, her gaze flickering with the same haunted glaze as we drank each other in. The more I tried to push Hannah’s frenzied words from my mind, the more resonant they became in my memory.
Her love will ruin you.
16
Jon
The air was thick with the scent of decaying vegetation and the sharp tang of brackish water. I wiped sweat from my brow, glancing at the murky sky. The forecast hadn’t called for rain, but the clouds were darkening with a tell-tale weight. I could only hope it wouldn’t pour down on us as we navigated the swamp. At the very least, the Accord was parked at the side of the winding highway where it would be safe from flooding.
Cliff and I pushed into the thicket of waterlogged trees, Sylvia setting our pace as she flew ahead. I wished she would’ve stayed closer. She glided over the deep water that had nearly been our grave while Cliff and I had to detour a quarter mile until we found a patch of solid ground we could walk on—a narrow island covered in moss and reeds raised above the surrounding water.
Our footfalls grew heavier as we followed, mud sucking at our boots. Glancing back over my shoulder at the tree line, I spotted the path the car had gouged through the damp earth when Cliff had swerved. The crooked lines sloped toward the water perpendicular to a second pair of tracks that must’ve belonged to the tow truck. I took one last look at the shattered branches drifting in the brackish water—evidence of the incident—before moving on. Sylvia hadn’t stopped, so whatever she sensed wasn’t there.
Every now and again, a rumble of thunder sounded above the persistent hum of insects. I watched Sylvia carefully—noting the stammer in her flight—but not even a yelp of alarm escaped her.There was something perturbing about her renewed determination to wrap her anxieties in steel. Her resilience was beautiful, even if it was at the cost of something innocent in her. Something I may have helped suffocate, I thought with a pang.
