Before the Fall (5 page)

 

Chapter Seven

9:02 p.m.

2 hours and 58 minutes before the fall . . .

Z
ach led Shanna a mile or so down the road to a CVS where the parking lot was half full of cars begging to be borrowed. The store, like most of the other buildings in the area, was completely vacant. After rummaging through the upturned shelves for a couple of bottles of water and bags of chips, they went in search of yet another mode of transportation to get them the rest of the way to St. Augustine.

He zeroed in on a dark SUV in the next row of cars, hoping his hot-wiring skills hadn't gone rusty. “Hold this.”

He handed her the bag of weapons and the snacks, then shattered the driver's window with his elbow. He popped the lock on the back door and opened it so Shanna could stash the goods inside, then shut it and grabbed her before he could second-guess his intentions. Tilting her chin, he forced her to look him in the eye. “We're going to be okay, Princess. Believe me?”

She shook her head but gave a contradictory half-smile. “Not sure anything's going to be okay again. But I'm a big girl.” She lifted the hem of her t-shirt to dab at his bloodied elbow. She pulled out a piece of glass and winced before continuing. “The rest of the world is going to have to figure out how to deal—and I will, too. It's not the first time in my life my world's been turned upside down.”

At first he thought she was referring to losing her parents when she was a kid, but something in her eyes made him wonder if she was referring to what had happened between
them.

Before she could protest, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her mouth, and in an instant, he was in an all-too-familiar place that he didn't want to leave. It took all of his strength to pull away and open the driver's door—all his concentration to get the SUV running and pretend the kiss hadn't affected him at all.

“Get in,” he said, somewhat pleased to see she looked as dazed as he felt.

He twisted in his seat to rummage through the bag of weapons, passing her the knuckle rings. She'd won the women's division of the local boxing tournament last year, and he was pretty sure she'd be more comfortable with her fists than with a dagger.

“Thanks.” She took them, slid them onto her fingers, and made a fist. “I really hope I don't get close enough to one of those things to use it.”

So did he.

He put the SUV in reverse. “Ready?”

“No,” she answered. “But I don't suppose I have a choice.

“It'll be all right.”

Her smile was faint, but at least it was there. “You keep saying that, but you never were a good liar.”

And yet, when it had really counted, she hadn't been able to believe him.

He brushed the hair from her cheeks and pressed his mouth to her forehead. It was all the comfort he could offer right now. As he pulled onto the road, he slipped one hand over hers and gave a light squeeze, watching as she set the knuckle rings in her lap, closed her eyes, and pressed her head into her seat.

Occasionally, he found his gaze wandering back to her, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she fell asleep, and his desire to keep her safe only intensified. He'd allowed whiskey to fill the void she'd left inside him six months ago, but sober now, having her so close to him, he was remembering every perfect inch of her, every flaw that he'd adored.

If anything happened to her, he was a goner.

They'd only been on the road for about twenty minutes when she woke with a start, gasping for air as though she'd been held under water, and scaring the shit out of Zach. He swung the SUV off the main road and let it idle at a stop sign so he could reach for her.

“You all right?”

She nodded. “Nightmare. I was hoping all of this was.”

This was the reason the Order worked in secret. Humans weren't meant to know that the creatures living in their fiction were real. Hell, he'd grown up with the knowledge and it was difficult for him to accept sometimes.

“We're definitely going to have to stick to back roads now,” he said, turning down the volume on the radio that had been keeping him company and up-to-date on what was happening outside their little bubble. “Road blocks are popping up all over the interstate, redirecting evacuees around hazards. Could get a little rough.”

“Okay.” She pulled her hair back into a sloppy ponytail and he couldn't help but notice how badly her fingers trembled as she tried to work the elastic around her hair.

Twenty minutes later, when they should have arrived in St. Augustine, they'd only traveled another ten miles. Lines of traffic forced Zach off the road they'd been traveling and onto a route he wasn't too sure about. It was far more secluded, but looked to be pretty deserted, so he stuck with it. He had less than three hours to get Shanna to St. Augustine before Hell opened up and swallowed half the world whole. The fewer road blocks he encountered, the better.

As they merged onto a vacant two-lane road lined with forest on one side and cow pastures on the other, the debris of broken concrete hung in the air so thick, he had to strain to see. It was like driving through thick, choking fog.

From somewhere within the trees, an eerie howl shook the leaves. It might have been a wolf, but just as likely, it was a Lychen. He glanced at the scarred arm that had reduced him to an “in case of emergency only” member of the Order. Never in his life had he endured such pain—the paralyzing agony of the saliva in his blood, slowly stilling every organ he had until help had arrived. The thought of encountering that again would have sobered even the meanest drunk.

He turned the radio up to help drown out his thoughts and ease the uncomfortable silence. Shanna didn't feel like talking, and until they were off these damned dark, unlit roads, neither did Zach. He glanced at her, quietly staring out her window and into the trees, and when he next looked back at the road, he saw tail lights flashing in the distance. He slowed, suspicious of what might be causing the other driver to stop on an empty road. He eyed the van as they slowly passed, noted the dented hood pressed against the guardrail.

“Zach, look out!”

He turned his gaze back to the windshield to find three large, winged creatures blocking the road. He smashed the brake, throwing the SUV into a skid around the Hatchlings and into the ditch behind them. He hit the lever to lock the vehicle into four-wheel drive, but the back wheels spun out, stuck in Florida mud.

“Fuck.”

The Hatchlings were approaching, slowly, knowing their prey was trapped inside like tuna in a can.

“What do we do?” Her eyes wide, Shanna dug her gun out of her back pocket.

“We sure as hell don't sit here and let them take us. Grab the bag!”

As he flung open his door, Zach pulled the sword from its sheath. He braced his feet and held the weapon in front of him. He moved to his left, away from Shanna and any survivors who might be trapped in the van, drawing the attention of the beasts. Hatchlings were born and bred in Tartarus. Spawns of the dragons and demons that resided there. If they'd crawled out of the only place they'd ever known, they wouldn't stop until they'd fed or were dead.

“Zach? No!”

Not breaking eye contact with the demons, he held out his hand to stop her from moving.

The largest of the three sized up Shanna, but its grunted command and nod were directed at Zach. The three soared high in the air, dipped low over Shanna, then dropped to the ground a couple feet in front of Zach. He didn't have time to size them up before they circled him, blocking any direct path to safety he might have had.

He was sorely outnumbered, but if they wanted to play, he'd play.

Zach drew back his sword and attacked.

 

Chapter Eight

9:25 p.m.

2 hours and 35 minutes before the fall . . .

Z
ach swung the sword at the Hatchling closest to him. The big beast dodged, grabbed Zach by the shirt, and threw him into the disabled van. Shanna's breath locked in her throat as she reached for her gun, but before she could free it from her waistband, Zach was on his feet again. He sliced the beast from shoulder to hip, and the dismembered monster fell to the ground with two distinct plops.

Zach's sword glowed bright as he seemed to find his groove, slicing it through the air and depositing another winged creature on the asphalt. The third, however, wasn't going down so easily. With each punishing blow that caused Zach to stagger, Shanna inched a little closer toward the fight, easing the gun back into her waistband and sliding the silver knuckle rings on instead.

Flexing her fist, she glanced down at the spiky points jutting out from atop her fingers. The injury the weapon could cause probably wouldn't be fatal, but maybe the silver would give Zach time to regain his footing.

Holding her breath, she made a mad dash at the creature's back. Just as she leaped with the intent of wrapping herself around its back, it spun, grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground.

Shanna found herself staring into blood-red eyes. She tried to scream, but the beast was holding her throat so tightly, it was all she could do just to breathe. From the corner of her eye, she saw Zach grow smaller and smaller, and the overwhelming urge to vomit rose within her as she realized the demon was flying with her clutched in its claws.

She could hear his voice but couldn't understand the words he was yelling. Black drool dampened her neck as the demon smiled at her and dove toward the trees.

Never let your attacker take you to the second location.

All her self-defense lessons rushed through her head, but all she could hang on to was that one. A branch slapped at her cheek and it gave her hope. If she was low enough to see the ground between the trees, then there was a chance she might survive the fall.

Raising her arm, she swiped at the paper-thin skin beneath the beast's wing. It roared, screeching in pain. It teetered like a bird with a broken wing and spiraled toward the ground. She wrapped her arm around its neck and sliced the knuckle ring across its throat.

The next thing she knew, she was on the ground beneath the demon, her head pounding and her leg throbbing. She turned her head, the crackle of leaves making her ears feel as though they bled from the pain, but she was alive. And there were blessed footsteps headed in her direction.

“Zach!” Though she'd tried to scream it, her raw throat barely released his name in a whisper.

Then she saw him. Saw him raise his sword, saw him lower it at lightning speed, as she fought desperately to roll out from beneath the demon toward safety. But Zach's aim didn't go astray. It sliced through the beast's neck, sending its nasty head rolling down the sloped ground to land with a splash in the nearby creek.

She barely had time to find her breath again when Zach grabbed her by the arm.

“What the fuck were you thinking!” he screamed, yanking her to her feet so violently she thought her arm might pop out of its socket.

“The silver . . . I wanted to weaken him—”

“My sword is silver! Didn't you see the other two die? Damn it, Shanna, you could have been killed!”

She jerked free of his clutches, rubbing her arm and sinking back to the ground where the world was more stable. Her leg hurt like hell, but she was pretty sure nothing was broken. Just bruised like a bitch.

“You said silver would make them vulnerable to death. I was tr-trying to help!”

And she had! She'd saved his sorry ass and he was yelling at her?

Shanna tried to muster the energy to feel real anger, but it wouldn't come. He was right. She hadn't truly thought through her actions. She'd seen him in trouble and had acted as her instincts had bidden her to do. But her
instincts
knew nothing of this world in which Zach lived.

They could have died today. There was a very real possibility that they still might. If so, it would be nice to have someone who belonged to her when it happened. She had no family anymore. No friends close by. Zach didn't belong to her anymore, either. She'd ruined that thoroughly when she'd called him insane and walked out.

Even if they couldn't be together again, she'd get him to finally forgive her for not believing him . . . and maybe then she'd be able to forgive herself.

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” she whispered. “The world's gone crazy, Zach.”

He knelt beside her, giving her a clear view of the blood splatter sprinkled across his neck and face. She prayed it didn't belong to him.

“Yeah, it has, Princess. So we've got to stay sane for each other. We have to stay
alive
for each other. You can't do stupid shit like that anymore.”

The anger in his eyes stilled her frustrations. He'd been worried about her. He'd chosen to get
her
out of the Keys. No one else. Six months hadn't completely destroyed what they'd had. If it had, he wouldn't be yelling at her now.

She felt a faint smile coming on but kept it hidden.

“Thank you, Zach,” she whispered. And as he stared at her in question, she quietly made her way back to the road without further explanation.

B
etween struggling to get the SUV out of the mud and a quick stop for showers and food at a truck stop, getting to St. Augustine took another hour. By the time they finally rolled into the city limits, it was almost ten thirty and Zach's eyes were burning. His instincts were beginning to dull, as was evident when he nearly ran right over an old woman darting across the street.

He let out a yawn, envious of Shanna, who'd been sleeping for the past forty-five minutes. He took in the sights of the city that was meant to be their salvation. Most of the places seemed to be without electricity, and where some still existed, the sizzle of broken and frayed live wires danced in the air.

Traffic lights swung in the wind, no power reaching them. A few stray horses had abandoned their carriages and masters, and roamed the walk around Matanzas Bay, neighing in the night as though calling out to one another. Streets that should have been teeming with tourists were quiet and empty, though he'd expected the exact opposite. Wasn't this where the evacuees were being sent? Or had the Order purposely directed them elsewhere to avoid chaos at their headquarters?

He swerved the SUV around an abandoned trolley, his muscles screaming in protest as the sudden movement made his body sway. But it was almost over. All he had to do now was get Shanna inside the Castillo de San Marcos and he'd finally be able to breathe again.

“It's too quiet,” Shanna muttered, startling him. He hadn't realized she'd woken up.

He watched her rub at the smear of blood on her jeans as she had been before she'd fallen asleep. Zach had hoped letting her take a quick shower at a rest stop might make her feel a little better—clean the blood off and maybe wash away some of her panic. But it hadn't seemed to do much good. Her clothes were still stained and so, apparently, were her thoughts.

“Where are all the people? I thought it would be safe here.”

“Saf
er
,” he corrected. The only true safety in the world right now would be found in other realms. But he sure as hell wasn't going to try to explain that to her now.

She didn't say anything for a moment, intent on rubbing that damned spot like she was Lady Macbeth. The tightness around her mouth had deepened. As had the stress in her eyes and the shaking of her hands. She was holding it together, but just by sheer willpower—probably to keep from cracking completely in front of him.

“Where do we go from here?” she finally asked.

He drove slowly past overturned carriages and vehicles, and turned into the Castillo—steering the SUV directly to the small wall that separated the fort from Matanzas Bay—then cut the engine.

Zach was immediately relieved at the sight of the Order's sentinels patrolling the bastions. “I need to answer my summons. Get clearance to bring you in.”

For the first time since all this had started, he felt a tiny bit of the tension drain from his neck and shoulders.

He stepped out and waited for her to insist on coming with him. When she didn't, he knew without a doubt that she was approaching her breaking point.

“Don't get out until I come back for you. And if anything happens, take off. Do not stop. Got it?”

“Yeah. Got it. I get scared, I leave you. Sure.”

Even her sarcasm sounded tired.

“Just do it. I'll be right back.”

She grabbed his hand. “If something does happen, get your ass back here.”

He smiled before closing the door. When she locked it, he turned and made his way across the old wooden bridge. Before his feet touched the crushed coquina leading to the now-working drawbridge, two sentinels appeared out of nowhere to block his path.

“I've been summoned.” He turned slightly, allowing them to see the sword strapped to his back. “I'm retired Order.”

“Reveal your beacon.”

Zach dug beneath his shirt and dragged the chain out, cursing when the small sphere didn't appear, too. He must have lost it along the way.

“It's gone.”