She Who Sees Through Darkness

Part Eight

The spell broke. Years of drills took over, and she dropped into a shooter's crouch. Kyle reached for the gun. A thousand revelations fell on her head. She threw the gun from the overlook. It vanished in the overgrown shadows of the cliff.

"How could you—"

She pivoted and slapped him, hard. Shawn, Shawn's in the woods. The valkyrie must have run. Indigo was chasing a fugitive. Bullets would fly, and they didn't care who they hit. "We need to get off the mountain, now!" Her hand tightened around his wrist. He didn't resist as she dragged him down the trail.

Katrina scrambled through the bracken. The trail had vanished in the darkness, leaving her plummeting freely downhill, arms wheeling, nearly tripping over every hidden root and stone. Dogs barked through the trees. Another gun went off.

A running figure stumbled out of the trees and collapsed in front of them. "Help me!" gasped a female voice.

This one's too short to be a valkyrie. Katrina paused. The woman's breaths were hitching, uneven. The darkness concealed most details, but the woman's hands clearly cupped her stomach.

"Were you shot?" Katrina asked.

"Yes."

Stomach wound. She'd die if she didn't reach a hospital soon. Unless— "Are you a Descendant?" The body of a high-generation Descendant could mend the wound if the bullet was removed. If she's a Descendant, then she got shot for a reason.

"A what?" the woman gasped.

Just a hiker. An accident. She stripped the woman's jacket off and pressed it against the wound while Kyle stared in horror. "Hold this steady. We'll get you to my car. It's just at the bottom of the hill. Can you stand?"

The woman nodded.

"Good. I'll drive you to the hospital." She turned to Kyle, who watched with his eyes open wide. "Kyle, come grab her arm." He didn't move. She raised her voice. "Kyle!"

That shook him out of his stupor. He ducked under the woman's shoulder, lifting her up. Katrina took the other shoulder.

A deep howl rolled through the trees, and the injured woman shuddered violently. "Wolves?" Kyle gasped.

Indigo brought a werewolf to hunt. With the moon nearly full. Transforming now was risky enough. The scent of blood might send them into a frenzy. It risked lives. It risked the Seal. What makes one lone valkyrie that important? There were few enough valkyries left in the world, and those remaining tended to work as muscle for hire. Who does this one work for?

The headlights of her car glowed from the trailhead. Katrina's heart leapt at the sight. The engine still purred—she'd left the keys in the ignition. Quickly, she and Kyle lowered the injured woman into the back seat and slid into the front seat. Katrina gripped the wheel.

"Keep the pressure on the wound!" she ordered Kyle. He twisted in his seat. Dark shapes appeared in the rear-view mirror. Katrina stepped on the gas.

Gravel flew from under the tires. The car shot forward. She flipped on her high beams, the light threatening to expose any Descendants who got too close. Even werewolves in moonlight could remember exposure meant execution.

The shadows paused at the trailhead. Katrina whipped the car down the road towards town. Something wet dripped down her chin—sweat, or a teardrop? She couldn't tell.

"Katrina," Kyle whispered. "You can't tell anyone what nearly happened up there, okay? I'm fine. Really, I just got carried away."

He had a gun to his head. He needs help. She'd leave him and the woman at the hospital, fill the tank with gas, and vanish. Indigo had taught her well. She could stop hurting her family without . . . doing that other thing. She wasn't crazy. She'd stopped herself. "Just keep her conscious. Talk to her."

"What's your name?" Kyle asked.

"Dr. Phyllis Harper."

"You know anything about treating gunshot wounds, Dr. Harper?" Katrina asked.

"Not a . . . medical doctor," she gasped. "Could you open a window? I need air."

Kyle rolled down a window in back. Katrina stiffened, instinctively. She'd heard too many stories in Indigo about things thrown through windows.

"I don't think I'm going to make it," Dr. Harper gasped.

"You will." Katrina turned down a side road that ran between two farms. The quickest route to the hospital. "I won't let you die."

"Please, let me use your phone. I haven't spoken to my mother in ten years. I have to . . ." and she broke off, coughing.

"Here." Katrina reached back and handed over her phone. Dr. Harper's features stood out in the backseat's lights: Asian, with olive skin and wide, worried brown eyes, around five years Katrina's junior. "But you're not going to die. The hospital's two minutes away. Just keep talking!" A glorious sense of purpose had awakened with her agent's instincts. She wouldn't let this woman die.

"Mom? I've been shot. Some hikers are driving me to the hospital, but I'm afraid . . ." Her wavering, sad tone turned to steel. "Portsmith Road. Just passed two barns. Urgent!" The doctor forced herself up and flung the glowing phone through the open window.

Katrina's veins ran cold. We've been had. She slammed her foot down on the gas. The car shot forward. Dr. Harper screamed in pain.

"The hell?" shouted Kyle. "What—what—"

A white shape plummeted out of the sky and hit the road on the other side of a small hill. A woman walked out of the dip, eight feet tall and dressed in heavy black body armor, holding an assault rifle. White wings, each twenty feet long, extended from her shoulders, blocking out the stars.

Katrina braced herself. Car versus valkyrie.

"There's a person there!" Kyle lunged forward and pulled the emergency break.

Katrina flew backwards. Her head slammed into the headrest. Stars flickered across her vision. Gravity shifted all around her as the car spun sideway. Her seatbelt dug into her shoulder, holding her down. Lights spun.

Something huge slammed into the side of the car. Kyle gasped. Katrina looked over to see him lying limp in the seat.

"You bitch!" She grabbed the old sunglass case wedged in the CD deck and pulled out Shawn's butterfly knife.

The window behind her shattered. Strong hands grabbed the back of her neck. She felt a pinch. Spinning as fast as she could with the seatbelt on, Katrina drove the blade into the valkyrie's thick wrist. Blood spurted over her clothing. She pulled the knife free and tried to strike again, but the pale skin blurred into five wrists, and Katrina's arm felt as heavy as lead. I've been drugged.

"She's the one," Dr. Harper said, and the world went black.

If you like this story, be sure to share it on Facebook, Twitter, or your other favorite site!