Page 14 of Hunting Her
I just need to pray I get to the weapons before they make their move on me. They must be waiting outside, and the thought of stepping out into the pervasive darkness and leaving the comfort of the bar makes me shudder.
Yet, the game must go on eventually. I push out through the front door and onto the sidewalk.
I take a deep breath, smelling caramel and popcorn on the wind. There are still a few costumed partiers here and there on benches and meandering down the sidewalks, but the presence of other humans won’t help me now.
With the moon high in the sky, half of it hiding behind angry clouds, it’s around the time people’s eyes start deceiving them. If a demon comes to steal me away, they won’t need to erase any memories—the alcohol and the spooky energy will make anyone watching believe it was a trick of the light.
Stepping away from the pub and the lone bouncer still standing outside, I tug my coat tighter around my shoulders and start walking.
Around the corner, he said. Navy truck. I get out the keys and press the unlock button, listening for a honk and watching for a flash of headlights.
There, parked under a tree on the edge of a small parking lot. I speed walk forward, sensing someone already watching me.
It might be Izoran, eager to get back at me for the beer I splashed in his face earlier. Or Lorcan, waiting for me to break into a run before he strikes. Maybe Brellan, silently stalking meon behalf of his king—I’m not even certain the man wants me, unlike the twins who are ridiculously obvious.
But I don’t think Damek himself is following me yet.
He’ll show up right before dawn; giving me the illusion of success only to tear it away. That’s how sadistic I imagine the demon king to be, anyway.
It’s in line with how he let me fall until the ground was half a second away, only to steal back my escape.
Whoever’s following me doesn’t grab me in the street. They let me get into the driver’s seat of the truck, frightened goosebumps raising the hair on my arms. It starts without protest, and I pull onto the road.
I’ve never driven before. Never had a car to practice with. Definitely not one where I’m sitting so far up it’s as if I’m looking down on the sedans parked along the road. I try not to hit any of them, but I’m pretty sure I knock a mirror off one.
Then, the sign I’m looking for comes into view.
It’s old and worn, sporting the Elmer Outdoors logo with a graphic of a flying goose. Their windows are dark, the metal bars outside the glass deterring would-be robbers. Except me, of course. I’m desperate enough to go for it.
Taking a deep breath, I scan the area on either side of the store. There isn’t a soul in sight. No one that I might hurt with my crazy plan.
I put my foot on the gas, gasping at the force of the truck pulling forward. My back is plastered to the seat, heart racing, and when I crest the curb I squeeze my eyes shut and pull my foot from the accelerator.
There’s a resounding crash as I hit the building, the groan of metal and creak of wood, the cacophonous shattering of glass.
Finally, silence.
I crack open my eyes.
The entire front of the shop was destroyed by the truck. I have my pick of the guns and knives—but I haven’t got much time. The silence was short-lived, and now it’s broken by the blaring of an approaching police siren.
With the shop’s alarm blasting, I jump out and pick my way through the wreckage, grabbing a warped metal bar. I see headlights coming from down the street, but I ignore them as I rush through the store.
There are countless guns hung on the walls behind a layer of glass, but I make a beeline for the standing display cases. Most of them have more guns and ammo, but eventually I find the few holding knives. I’ve only got a minute or two before the cops or security or someone shows up, and I need to have the weapon in my hand when they do.
I smash the display case with the metal bar, then drop it to the ground.
The first knife I pick up is long with a serrated edge. I grab a few smaller ones, all in sheaths, and shove them into the pockets of my coat.
When I turn to the door, there are flashing lights outside.
Fuck.
“There’s a back exit. You didn’t stake this place out very well, did you Fire?”
Izoran’s smooth voice breaks through my heady panic, and I find him leaning against one of the unbroken display cases. He followed me in so silently I didn’t notice—or maybe it was just impossible to hear him over the rushing in my ears.
I don’t want to listen to him—he’s probably leading me into a trap—but my only other option is heading straight toward the police. Being in police custody won’t stop the demons from catching me. All it’ll do is make me lose my weapon and my only chance of winning our game.
