Read Online Highland Son (Highland Sorcery: A New Dawn) by Clover Autrey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Clover Autrey
Ads: Link
Ankles were lashed together as well. The room was cold, the chill seeping into his side from lying on the floor. Looked like a public restroom in the motel that had been left unused by the new inhabitants. If they were even once again in the motel Sheppard’s group occupied. All the urinals were missing from the wall. One of the stall’s doors hung crookedly from one hinge.
He twisted his head for a better look at his surroundings and it felt like a screw twisted straight into his forehead, momentarily blinding him. He stilled, breathing hard through his nostrils until his sight returned.
The first thing he focused on through his returning blurry vision was Ethan. His friend sat slumped beside him, hands tied behind his back around the pipes of an old sink. His thigh was roughly bandaged with a scrap of someone’s torn sleeve. Dried blood had hardened the material.
His eyes were closed, skin flushed with the onset of fever, but Ethan was at least breathing, if shallowly. That was clear from the steady rise and fall of his chest. A ragged bruise darkened the side of his face, swelling the skin around his eye. Dez stiffened, wanting to get a crack at whoever had gone at him. Maybe Ethan was a full grown twenty-something man in his own right, who’d survived worse than the Sifts—monsters weren’t always non-human—but Dez still felt responsible for him. He’d always be that scrawny kid he’d found in the sewers, facing down a hungry wolf with little better than a rock, that kid who startled so easily, jerking away whenever Dez happened to unintentionally come up behind him.
He’d been just a kid himself, only a few years older, but at that age in those circumstances, it seemed like he’d been decades older. Plain and simple, Ethan was his to protect and he’d done a piss-poor job of it, getting himself bashed on the head. Someone was going to pay.
Ethan was his family. The only family he’d had until another scrawny youth had plopped into their lives—Dez jerked, scratching the ropes around his wrists tighter. His head pounded. Alexander. Panic clawed at his chest. And he saw it all again, bright and distorted. The stale coppery taste of fear flooded his mouth.
He saw…
He saw… Alexander…his stomach…shredded to mincemeat.
He felt Sheppard’s fists in his hair, forcing him to watch…
And saw…the Sifts dead, bodies crumpled at Alexander’s feet. A young man was at the backstop, sawing a blade through the ropes, his light hair moving with each swipe of his knife. Alexander…his stomach…not…not being torn apart by slashing brown claws.
Dez blinked, his vision wavering. But he saw… What the hell had he seen?
Others were there too, at the backstop, alert, watching for more monsters, watching them from across the field, faces anxious.
And Jewel. Jewel stood facing outward toward the field and Sheppard, eyes closed in concentration, her arm stretched outward, palm up. The air wavered around them all.
And the other vision was back. Monsters fighting over Alexander’s innards as he sloughed forward.
Dez tried to shake his head in Sheppard’s grip. No, not in Sheppard’s grip. He was on the floor in a cold dirty bathroom, two opposing memories dragging through his head.
Which was real? What was he seeing? What had he seen? He’d seen Alexander die. He knew he had. Ethan’s cries echoed as though across a great chasm. Real? Part of memory? Everything was darkening at the edges. Dez’s ragged breathing coated the air in heavy loud strokes.
Before the world closed on him he saw Jewel again. And Alexander…was whole. Whole but unconscious. The light haired youth had him free and was bending him over his shoulder.
And just like that they were gone and the monsters were back in the field, pulling Alexander from the chain link and dragging his body off into the darkness.
~~~
Dez rocked his forehead against the tile, struggling to pull a breath into his labored lungs, the
He twisted his head for a better look at his surroundings and it felt like a screw twisted straight into his forehead, momentarily blinding him. He stilled, breathing hard through his nostrils until his sight returned.
The first thing he focused on through his returning blurry vision was Ethan. His friend sat slumped beside him, hands tied behind his back around the pipes of an old sink. His thigh was roughly bandaged with a scrap of someone’s torn sleeve. Dried blood had hardened the material.
His eyes were closed, skin flushed with the onset of fever, but Ethan was at least breathing, if shallowly. That was clear from the steady rise and fall of his chest. A ragged bruise darkened the side of his face, swelling the skin around his eye. Dez stiffened, wanting to get a crack at whoever had gone at him. Maybe Ethan was a full grown twenty-something man in his own right, who’d survived worse than the Sifts—monsters weren’t always non-human—but Dez still felt responsible for him. He’d always be that scrawny kid he’d found in the sewers, facing down a hungry wolf with little better than a rock, that kid who startled so easily, jerking away whenever Dez happened to unintentionally come up behind him.
He’d been just a kid himself, only a few years older, but at that age in those circumstances, it seemed like he’d been decades older. Plain and simple, Ethan was his to protect and he’d done a piss-poor job of it, getting himself bashed on the head. Someone was going to pay.
Ethan was his family. The only family he’d had until another scrawny youth had plopped into their lives—Dez jerked, scratching the ropes around his wrists tighter. His head pounded. Alexander. Panic clawed at his chest. And he saw it all again, bright and distorted. The stale coppery taste of fear flooded his mouth.
He saw…
He saw… Alexander…his stomach…shredded to mincemeat.
He felt Sheppard’s fists in his hair, forcing him to watch…
And saw…the Sifts dead, bodies crumpled at Alexander’s feet. A young man was at the backstop, sawing a blade through the ropes, his light hair moving with each swipe of his knife. Alexander…his stomach…not…not being torn apart by slashing brown claws.
Dez blinked, his vision wavering. But he saw… What the hell had he seen?
Others were there too, at the backstop, alert, watching for more monsters, watching them from across the field, faces anxious.
And Jewel. Jewel stood facing outward toward the field and Sheppard, eyes closed in concentration, her arm stretched outward, palm up. The air wavered around them all.
And the other vision was back. Monsters fighting over Alexander’s innards as he sloughed forward.
Dez tried to shake his head in Sheppard’s grip. No, not in Sheppard’s grip. He was on the floor in a cold dirty bathroom, two opposing memories dragging through his head.
Which was real? What was he seeing? What had he seen? He’d seen Alexander die. He knew he had. Ethan’s cries echoed as though across a great chasm. Real? Part of memory? Everything was darkening at the edges. Dez’s ragged breathing coated the air in heavy loud strokes.
Before the world closed on him he saw Jewel again. And Alexander…was whole. Whole but unconscious. The light haired youth had him free and was bending him over his shoulder.
And just like that they were gone and the monsters were back in the field, pulling Alexander from the chain link and dragging his body off into the darkness.
~~~
Dez rocked his forehead against the tile, struggling to pull a breath into his labored lungs, the
Similar Books
