Her own breathing sounded very loud in the silence, loud enough for someone to hear from miles away.
They could hear whispered words from beyond the closed door. Ramon pushed Kayla down behind the couch with one hand, his other hand bringing up the pistol to aim at the door.
The world exploded around her.
She screamed and huddled against the floor, as the room was filled with the noise of automatic gunfire. She couldn't hear anything but the endless sound of bullets ripping through the air around her.
It was over as quickly as it had begun, a sudden shocking silence. There was no other sound, only her own breathing. She crouched against the floor, unable to do anything but breathe.
Someone grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her up. Two young black men, one cradling a stubby machine pistol in his arms, were staring at her.
She looked down, and saw Ramon.
He lay several feet away, his hand still clutching the pistol. All around him was blood, staining his shirt and the floor. His eyes were open, staring blankly.
Oh God . . . oh my God . . .
Fernando was lying a few feet beyond him, a long smear of blood staining the wall where he'd been thrown by the impact of bullets, before sliding down to the floor.
She tried to pull away from the T-Men holding her. He was saying something, but she couldn't understand the words, nothing made any sense.
He brought up his hand and slapped her across the face.
The sudden pain snapped something in her. Her shock and terror giving way to something else: hot, deadly anger.
All right, you bastards . . .
Chapter Twelve
She grabbed his hand.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the magic coursed down through her with a force that she'd never felt before, leaping between them. She touched his own magic, the light that was his life . . . took hold of it, and pulled.
He screamed and jumped back, staring at his hands, which were engulfed in blue fire. The skin of his hands shriveled, as though rotting in front of her. It crawled up his arms, moving up to his face. What staggered and fell to the floor wasn't a young man, but something wrinkled and bloodless, with bone showing through the tatters of skin of his hands. He twitched on the floor, making small whimpering sounds through what was left of his lips.
The other T-Man dropped his gun and ran.
Kayla didn't notice that for a few seconds, until the apartment door slammed shut; she was too busy throwing up. She couldn't stop shaking, her stomach heaving even though there was nothing left.
Out of control, she thought, trembling. Like Elizabet said, out of control.
Got to get up. They'll come back and kill me.
The T-Man was moving feebly on the floor, trying to crawl away from her. She could feel a little life left in him, barely enough for her to touch.
I did that. I did that to him.
And it felt . . .
She didn't want to think about how she felt, because right now she felt wonderful, as though every nerve ending in her body was singing. She'd never felt this good before, and it was a dizzying high, overwhelming her with giddiness.
It's wrong . . . I shouldn't feel like this . . . I shouldn't . . .
She turned away from the T-Man, looking to where Ramon lay on the floor. She felt tears burning her eyes. He's dead. I didn't even see it happen. I didn't even have my eyes open to see it.
She felt the magic stir within her, trying to reach out to him. She was next to him a split second later, kneeling; her hands touching the bloody wound.
He's not dead, but . . .
Her healing sense widened, brightened; blurring the rest of the room to invisibility until all she could see was the track of the bullet and how it had passed through skin and muscle to nick the major artery that was pumping out his lifeblood with every second. She felt herself falling into the healing and stopped with a sudden thought.
They're going to be back in a minute. I won't have time to do this and get away. I have to get out of here, I have to . . .
No. I won't let him die.
She let the magic sweep through her, everything else fading away. She felt the electricity surge down through her hands, knitting the pieces of muscle back together, sealing up the rip in the artery, closing the flesh around it.
The magic let her go suddenly and she fell forward. Her cheek lay against Ramon's chest and she could feel his breathing growing stronger, his heartbeat strengthening.
She came back to herself with a start, hearing voices through the open window. Fighting off the waves of exhaustion, she lifted Ramon and dragged him into the bedroom, setting him down in the closet and closing the door. She laid her hand briefly on his face, feeling the glowing light of his life becoming stronger and brighter with every passing second. <T>
He'll be okay, she thought. I don't think they'll find him in here. Now I'd better get my ass out of here. . . .
She paused in the bedroom long enough to grab her jacket and sneakers, yanking on the shoes and quickly knotting the laces. She ran back into the living room, heading for the shattered door.