Read Online Bound by Light by Anna Windsor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anna Windsor
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"Somebody’s dead in that house, Jake."
Jake ran forward, squeezing the button on his radio, shouting for backup at the same time as he motioned for her to cover him—because his senses had told him the rest.
Yes, somebody was dead inside the red house.
But somebody was alive, too.
(5)
Merilee swept down the concrete walkway behind Jake, keeping up but giving enough ground to assess and guard, to have room to fire her arrows. Her breathing quickened. Her heart rate doubled. Despite her exhaustion from poor sleep, nightmares, and way too much work, she instinctively covered Jake just the way she would shadow Riana and Cynda as they charged into battle.
Please, great Hecate, don’t let anybody shoot. Let Charlotte be okay.
As Jake reached the porch and drew his Glock, a blast of unfocused energy swept over Merilee. Bad energy. Dark, like something awful had . . . slithered . . . too near the walkway. She gripped her bow tighter, pushed back the energy with a spray of wind, and held focus on Jake as he skirted the door.
Seconds later, Jake smashed his shoulder into the wood. The red boards split into three pieces. Splinters and hinges banged to the porch.
Lights flared inside, and the glow spilled into the night.
Merilee tensed, ready to shoot, but no one fired through the open door, and nobody charged outside. Voices rose and fell, and she heard what sounded like sobbing.
Jake shouted, "Police! On the floor!" as he took his stance and gazed through the door.
Merilee approached on his left as he entered the townhouse. She bounded up the porch steps, keeping Jake in view and her bow and arrow at the ready.
As she ran through the door, the stench of the place struck her like a blow. Blood and salt and some horrible, terrible wrongness —like bubbling acid, burning as she inhaled. Then, just as fast, some other and even more incredible power mowed over her like a wide, whirring blade.
Merilee pulled up and stood just inside the entrance. Her eyes watered from the smell, the awful feel of the room, and the cutting punch of that power. She swayed on her feet and her vision fractured. Sights flew at her in kaleidoscopic images. Broken people. Colors. Prisms of light. Shapes crowded together. More sobbing battered her ears.
For a moment she caught sight of the Keres from her nightmares. Or maybe from that awful night, back when she threw herself off the roof of Motherhouse Greece to escape them. Feathers tumbled off their wings like black rain. Their fangs flashed as they hovered and shrieked loud enough for the hair-prickling sound to reach into her mind and make her want to leap off something, anything to get away from them again.
Did the creatures sound gleeful?
Or were they frightened?
A man walking . . .
The new image came clear, blotting out the Keres and everything else.
A statue man, the one I’ve dreamed . . .
"He is made of stone," Merilee mumbled as negative energy flowed over her like rogue wind, covering her no matter how hard she tried to shrug it off. The other power—the one with those biting, gnawing teeth—seemed to enter her, flow through her like new blood, giving her just enough strength to stay alive.
The Stone Man was huge and endless and lethal, and he was coming. Here. Now.
He’s almost on top of us.
She had to go. Merilee knew she had to run, tried to turn back to the door, but her muscles wouldn’t work. The world dimmed. She couldn’t see a thing but the shadowy Stone Man striding forward, growing larger in her mind’s eye. Couldn’t hear a thing but the dreadful crunch of his footsteps on leaves and gravel. More wrongness pressed into her, crashed against her chest. Air wouldn’t enter her lungs.
A wraithlike touch slid over her skin, cold and wet and absolutely unwelcome. The new, snarling power in her blood snapped at the disgusting sensation, pierced it with a thousand fangs, not with the force of her will, or even under her control.
The cold touch drew
Jake ran forward, squeezing the button on his radio, shouting for backup at the same time as he motioned for her to cover him—because his senses had told him the rest.
Yes, somebody was dead inside the red house.
But somebody was alive, too.
(5)
Merilee swept down the concrete walkway behind Jake, keeping up but giving enough ground to assess and guard, to have room to fire her arrows. Her breathing quickened. Her heart rate doubled. Despite her exhaustion from poor sleep, nightmares, and way too much work, she instinctively covered Jake just the way she would shadow Riana and Cynda as they charged into battle.
Please, great Hecate, don’t let anybody shoot. Let Charlotte be okay.
As Jake reached the porch and drew his Glock, a blast of unfocused energy swept over Merilee. Bad energy. Dark, like something awful had . . . slithered . . . too near the walkway. She gripped her bow tighter, pushed back the energy with a spray of wind, and held focus on Jake as he skirted the door.
Seconds later, Jake smashed his shoulder into the wood. The red boards split into three pieces. Splinters and hinges banged to the porch.
Lights flared inside, and the glow spilled into the night.
Merilee tensed, ready to shoot, but no one fired through the open door, and nobody charged outside. Voices rose and fell, and she heard what sounded like sobbing.
Jake shouted, "Police! On the floor!" as he took his stance and gazed through the door.
Merilee approached on his left as he entered the townhouse. She bounded up the porch steps, keeping Jake in view and her bow and arrow at the ready.
As she ran through the door, the stench of the place struck her like a blow. Blood and salt and some horrible, terrible wrongness —like bubbling acid, burning as she inhaled. Then, just as fast, some other and even more incredible power mowed over her like a wide, whirring blade.
Merilee pulled up and stood just inside the entrance. Her eyes watered from the smell, the awful feel of the room, and the cutting punch of that power. She swayed on her feet and her vision fractured. Sights flew at her in kaleidoscopic images. Broken people. Colors. Prisms of light. Shapes crowded together. More sobbing battered her ears.
For a moment she caught sight of the Keres from her nightmares. Or maybe from that awful night, back when she threw herself off the roof of Motherhouse Greece to escape them. Feathers tumbled off their wings like black rain. Their fangs flashed as they hovered and shrieked loud enough for the hair-prickling sound to reach into her mind and make her want to leap off something, anything to get away from them again.
Did the creatures sound gleeful?
Or were they frightened?
A man walking . . .
The new image came clear, blotting out the Keres and everything else.
A statue man, the one I’ve dreamed . . .
"He is made of stone," Merilee mumbled as negative energy flowed over her like rogue wind, covering her no matter how hard she tried to shrug it off. The other power—the one with those biting, gnawing teeth—seemed to enter her, flow through her like new blood, giving her just enough strength to stay alive.
The Stone Man was huge and endless and lethal, and he was coming. Here. Now.
He’s almost on top of us.
She had to go. Merilee knew she had to run, tried to turn back to the door, but her muscles wouldn’t work. The world dimmed. She couldn’t see a thing but the shadowy Stone Man striding forward, growing larger in her mind’s eye. Couldn’t hear a thing but the dreadful crunch of his footsteps on leaves and gravel. More wrongness pressed into her, crashed against her chest. Air wouldn’t enter her lungs.
A wraithlike touch slid over her skin, cold and wet and absolutely unwelcome. The new, snarling power in her blood snapped at the disgusting sensation, pierced it with a thousand fangs, not with the force of her will, or even under her control.
The cold touch drew
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