Page 14 of Discovered Magic
The rock she’d weighted gave way, and the ricocheting tumble of stone sounded like rapid gunfire. A scream tore from her throat as she pitched backward off the cliff face, her terror multiplying when the cam slipped loose.
It seemed as if she fell through space for an eternity, and each second carried the expectation of brutal impact. She braced for jagged rocks, sheared skin, and crushed bones.
But it wasn’t what she experienced at all.
In the distance, she heard Wilder’s frantic shout and somehow felt his horror ripple through her. Her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out the sound along with the rushing wind. If she’d have thought about it, she’d have expected to freeze as the distance between them widened. Yet her cells warmed all on their own, growing hotter until her insides were an inferno.
A kaleidoscope of colorful images flashed through her mind, impossibly bright. They appeared and vanished again as if a bored teenager were flipping a TV remote in a manic haze. Abbie tried to grab one and hold on before she lost what was left of her sanity.
Suddenly, it all stopped.
The impact stole her breath.
Her ribs ached like a bitch, and every inhale was a struggle. When she dared open her eyes, she was sure she’d died and landed in an alternate version of hell. Nothing was familiar. The mountain she and Wilder had climbed was gone. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she was in a different area of the United States altogether. One with a shit-ton of dirt.
The only other explanation was a magical vortex. When she next saw Wilder, she intended to ask if those were possible.
Closing her eyes, she took mental stock of her body. Nothing hurt to excess, and Abbie prayed it meant no broken bones.
“What the Sam Hill was that?” The grizzled voice came from a distance, yet echoed off the surrounding canyon walls.
“Never seen nothin’ like it in all my thirty-nine years,” another male voice said, slow and filled with suspicion.
Leather creaked, and a horse snorted.
“Should we check it out?” asked a tentative third.
“Well, what else we gonna do, ya lunkhead? God’s honest, boy, you got sawdust rattlin’ ’round that skull. I should’ve left your ma’s letter unopened.”
A sixth sense told Abbie she didn’t want to be found by these three. She jackknifed into a sitting position, muffling a groan by biting down on her knuckle. A frantic glance around revealed few decent hiding spots. Pulse pounding, she scrambled for the nearest gap in the rocks.
The unmistakable ch-ch-ch of a rattle stopped her cold.
Shit.
Every cell in her body screamed, “Move!” but even the twitch of a finger might earn her a venom-laced bite. Her breath hitched, the desert air scraping down her throat like sandpaper. The situation had officially gone from bad to biblically worse.
The air shifted beside her.
Thwack. Thunk.
And the rattling stopped.
Abbie stared, wide-eyed and disbelieving, as the snake writhed then fell still. An arrow pinned its triangular head to the ground with surgical precision, and dust curled up in lazy spirals around the shaft.
With a scream locked in her throat, she searched for the source.
Tucked into the rocky outcrop above her, a man stood half-shadowed, his expression unreadable. In his hand, a bow with another arrow at the ready. He was lean, but solid in a way that said he didn’t run from a fight, and his skin was sun-bronzed. Long black hair blew over his shoulders, making him appear like a warrior from another time. He didn’t move or speak, just stared at her, waiting.
Abbie glanced back toward the approaching noise.
Gruff and arguing, the cowboys made no effort to deaden the sound of their advance.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Her savior repositioned and slung the weapon across his back. “They’re hunting for trouble. Best not to let it be you.”
“I—” She gestured toward the rock. “There was an accident. A metaphysical anomaly.”
“You’re born of a Traveler.”
