Page 98 of The Tracker's Secret
Chapter 33
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WHEN I GOT HOME, ROSALINAwas still in bed.
Glad to have time to process everything on my own, I climbed back into bed and curled up around a pillow, hugging it tightly to my chest. I cried and raged, the two emotions ebbing and flowing, taking turns at driving me mad.
Time passed.
I slept. I awoke. I lost track of myself.
Pressure built around my brain, squeezing it tightly. A strange feeling spread all over me, and I shuddered.
Then the pounding began.
It hammered insistently against my temples, making me feel disoriented like there was somewhere I had to be, or something I had to say.
I tried to shrink away from it, to forget it was there, but the volume continued increasing. When my head felt as if it would explode, the pounding changed, becoming a distinct staccato of hammer blows like a maddening Morse code bent on driving me to insanity.
“STOP!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The pummeling halted for a moment, then it picked up again, growing more intense and precise, like a distant sound that, with proximity, grows clearer. Slowly, the blows gained a certain cadence and progression.
They repeated over and over, like tired messages on repeat.
“I can’t understand!” I said. “Leave me alone.”
The sharp sounds persisted, though their volume diminished, allowing me to focus a little better.
“What is it, Blake? Tell me. Who else is responsible for this?”
I was back in the warehouse, kneeling by the man’s twisting shape as he agonized on the floor. His foamy mouth opened and closed. Gurgles came out. His wide eyes were fixed on mine, practically screaming a message.
The pressure in my head mounted.
“You’re doing this,” I spat, holding my head and squeezing it tightly. “Stop it!”
Blake’s bloodshot eyes drilled into mine, holding me in place.
His message pounded inside my head. Again and again. I couldn’t hide from it. I’d tried, but he’d captured me in his gaze and I couldn’t break free. There was only one way.
I had to fight my way out of this nightmare.
My claws unsheathed. A thick, blinding fog rose around me. Panic seized me. I whirled, trying to find an exit. Blake’s message still pounded, threatening to shatter my entire being.
Growling, I slashed with my claws, tearing at the fog. But it wasn’t fog. My claws caught in it, and as I raked downward. Fabric tore, tangling in my fingers. My arms wind-milled desperately as I tried to get free from it. At last, it fell away, floating downward and settling all around me.
The pounding had stopped and only silence was left behind. I was about to collapse to my knees in relief when the pressure returned once more. I almost cried out in frustration, but the pressure was brief, then it broke through with two small beats. Two syllables.
“Ste-phen.” And then, “Help-me.”
I sat up in bed panting, cold sweat causing my T-shirt to cling to my skin.
Ste-phen.
Ste-phen.
