Read Online 97 (Rise of the Battle Bred) by V. L. Holt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: V. L. Holt
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sound coming out of his mouth was some kind of high-pitched keening. I stared at his handsome rugged face trying to figure it out. Then I woke up, and it was my stupid phone ringing. Crady slept like the dead, so she didn’t even stir while my phone continued its screeching. I tossed aside covers and pillows and feather boas until I found it. It was my cousin.
“Hey,” I croaked.
“Jane,” It sounded like my cousin, but he was kind of whispering.
“Yeah, Mick, what’s up?” I asked.
“Jane,” There was another sound like a cough and gurgle.
I popped out of bed. “Mick, where are you?” I asked in a panic. He didn’t sound right, and he wasn’t the kind of kid to pull a prank.
“Paper. Route,” Another cough.
“Oh God,” I prayed out loud. “Mick, stay on the phone. I’m coming to get you,” I kicked Crady in the butt. “Crady, get up! There’s something wrong with Mick. Tell mom he’s on the route,” I had the phone to my ear, and I was scrambling around the disaster that was my room, looking for my shoes. Damn my shoes. I left my room and banged on mom’s door. “Mom! Call 911! Mick’s hurt!” I ran to the garage and banged the open button with my fist. “Mick. Talk to me,” I heard him breathing. As the garage door opened, I grabbed my bike. I got on, my bare feet feeling the pricks of the grips on the pedals, but I didn’t care. I cleared the slowly rising door and sped out in the direction where I thought he might be.
Without knowing for sure, I followed my instincts. The clock in my room had said 4:47am. That would put him around by the neighborhood just one street over. Kind of by the park, actually. I rode like a demon out of hell, the cold morning air whipping through me like a sieve. I was wearing just a tank top and loose pajama pants. My hair was in a braid down my back, so at least that wasn’t in my face. “Mick!”
“Here,” His breathing sounded ragged. “The park.”
“I’m almost there. Hang on,” I said. I could actually feel the adrenaline firing my veins as I rode the fastest I’ve ever done.
“Don’t. Come,” Mick said over the phone.
“What? Like hell I’m not coming!” I shouted into the phone.
Mick and I were like brother and sister. His mom and my mom were foster sisters, so they got close. He was two years younger than me. He had begged me for two months for my weekend paper route.
I finally relented when I realized I could use a little break, and besides, I knew he could use a few extra bucks. Plus, he would occasionally give me a ride to school in his crappy Toyota pickup truck when it was raining. I was almost there. Mailboxes blurred by as I soared along. I aimed for the curb to jump it when I approached the field.
Impossibly, my tire hit the curb at a wrong angle, and my bike pitched upward, sending me flying. I didn’t even have time to let out the curse word that was on my tongue. I had never wrecked in all the years I’ve been riding, and yet I hit the road, my skin papering the pavement when I rolled. I didn’t feel anything, since I was jacked up on adrenaline. And maybe that could explain the rush of heat that I felt certain had washed over me alongside a giant blur. I got up and started running across the field towards the playground. My phone was somewhere on the road, no doubt.
Before I could get far, strong arms grabbed me from behind. A deep voice whispered in my ear,” Don’t move. I’ll get him,” Then the warm embrace was gone; the misty chill in the air hit me like a blast. The sweat on my skin froze me and then I felt the abrasions from my wreck. I didn’t care though; I was watching the playground. Two figures joined and separated in a macabre dance of flashing steel and blue flames and sparks. Sirens blared suddenly on the street, and I ran back to the sidewalk to wave the ambulance in. I waved frantically, and once they saw me, they pulled up to the curb, just missing my crashed bike.
“Are you all
“Hey,” I croaked.
“Jane,” It sounded like my cousin, but he was kind of whispering.
“Yeah, Mick, what’s up?” I asked.
“Jane,” There was another sound like a cough and gurgle.
I popped out of bed. “Mick, where are you?” I asked in a panic. He didn’t sound right, and he wasn’t the kind of kid to pull a prank.
“Paper. Route,” Another cough.
“Oh God,” I prayed out loud. “Mick, stay on the phone. I’m coming to get you,” I kicked Crady in the butt. “Crady, get up! There’s something wrong with Mick. Tell mom he’s on the route,” I had the phone to my ear, and I was scrambling around the disaster that was my room, looking for my shoes. Damn my shoes. I left my room and banged on mom’s door. “Mom! Call 911! Mick’s hurt!” I ran to the garage and banged the open button with my fist. “Mick. Talk to me,” I heard him breathing. As the garage door opened, I grabbed my bike. I got on, my bare feet feeling the pricks of the grips on the pedals, but I didn’t care. I cleared the slowly rising door and sped out in the direction where I thought he might be.
Without knowing for sure, I followed my instincts. The clock in my room had said 4:47am. That would put him around by the neighborhood just one street over. Kind of by the park, actually. I rode like a demon out of hell, the cold morning air whipping through me like a sieve. I was wearing just a tank top and loose pajama pants. My hair was in a braid down my back, so at least that wasn’t in my face. “Mick!”
“Here,” His breathing sounded ragged. “The park.”
“I’m almost there. Hang on,” I said. I could actually feel the adrenaline firing my veins as I rode the fastest I’ve ever done.
“Don’t. Come,” Mick said over the phone.
“What? Like hell I’m not coming!” I shouted into the phone.
Mick and I were like brother and sister. His mom and my mom were foster sisters, so they got close. He was two years younger than me. He had begged me for two months for my weekend paper route.
I finally relented when I realized I could use a little break, and besides, I knew he could use a few extra bucks. Plus, he would occasionally give me a ride to school in his crappy Toyota pickup truck when it was raining. I was almost there. Mailboxes blurred by as I soared along. I aimed for the curb to jump it when I approached the field.
Impossibly, my tire hit the curb at a wrong angle, and my bike pitched upward, sending me flying. I didn’t even have time to let out the curse word that was on my tongue. I had never wrecked in all the years I’ve been riding, and yet I hit the road, my skin papering the pavement when I rolled. I didn’t feel anything, since I was jacked up on adrenaline. And maybe that could explain the rush of heat that I felt certain had washed over me alongside a giant blur. I got up and started running across the field towards the playground. My phone was somewhere on the road, no doubt.
Before I could get far, strong arms grabbed me from behind. A deep voice whispered in my ear,” Don’t move. I’ll get him,” Then the warm embrace was gone; the misty chill in the air hit me like a blast. The sweat on my skin froze me and then I felt the abrasions from my wreck. I didn’t care though; I was watching the playground. Two figures joined and separated in a macabre dance of flashing steel and blue flames and sparks. Sirens blared suddenly on the street, and I ran back to the sidewalk to wave the ambulance in. I waved frantically, and once they saw me, they pulled up to the curb, just missing my crashed bike.
“Are you all
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