Search (SEEK book 1)

Prey

Khayal surround me, an eerie sensation amidst the sweet lilac breeze, and flitter between glimpses of sun sparkling on dewy leaves. They're everywhere, stalking me in the shadows, sneaking through the trees like ghosts.

I close my eyes searching for memories of how I got here, forcing the hot swampy air in and out of my lungs. The last thing I remember, Cord was climbing over the edge of Red River Gulch and then nothing—except flashes of rainbows in raging waters.

And now I'm pressed against a sugar maple, balancing on one leg, and fumbling for an arrow with bloodied fingers.

Khayal are hunting me.

I squint down the long golden rod. It's cracked, but I steady anyway and release it. The shaft warbles lamely through the air. A terrible shot. Surprised relief washes over me as the spear stops mid-flight, a charcoal figure materializing around it. My attacker writhes and falls with a dull thump at my feet.

Precious seconds I can't afford pass while I blink, blurry-eyed, at the dark shape. It's as though I've never killed a Khayal before.

"What's the first thing you do if you're injured, agent?" Captain Roselle's voice rings in my memories.

I give myself a shake. It's been a year since my SEEK training, but I should know what to do instinctively. Kistall, the corporation which owns SEEK, trained me to react without thinking.

"Inform my team, sir." I answered easily then, when there was no imminent threat of danger.

I pat my leg for my radio. It's not there.

"Cord?" I call out softly for my partner.

No answer.

Tiny hairs rise over my neck with the sensation of being watched. The woods remain quiet, apart from a lonely magpie somewhere in the distance. I shove off from the scratchy trunk, spotting the trail, and stumble forward with a crunch. A twig or perhaps a Khayal arm.

The smell of gardenia permeates the air. I flee from the stench, sodden ground splattering underfoot. I slash my bow blindly through the thicket, branches slapping against my face until I tumble over a mossy stump and bite my tongue.

"Crap!" I curse, hobbling up.

Deep in the hollows of my stomach a restless rumbling says it's been days since I've eaten. I glance down to find a bite in my calf, dripping a bright trail of crimson for every shadow to follow me.

I can't remember it happening. I'm alone and lost in a forest full of predators. Why am I still alive? I'm easy prey. The thought crosses my mind that maybe the Khayal are like my cat, Mr. Mouser. He likes to play with his kill before he rips it to pieces. I slip over the edge of delirium, the idea of being eaten slowly too much to handle.

Despite the physical protest, I tighten my grip on my bow until my fingers go white, forcing myself to stay alert—knowing each ragged breath might be my last.

Overhead, a Khayal ripples through the branches, invisibly taunting me.

I scramble over a boulder, SEEK's motto echoing in my dizzy head: Search, Evade, Extract, Kill.

Though it's March, my breath streams in the sunlight streaking through the trees, a warning.

A shadow dives straight for me.

I reach for an arrow and grab at nothing.

"Dammit!" An empty quiver.

With more effort than is necessary I jump the creek, wincing under my own weight, and hobble to the next tree line. My lungs fill with fire—the Khayal venom must be taking hold—but I can't stop to breathe. I have to make it for Lindy.