He uttered, “Get out. Will…kill if it sees you.” He was talking at least, even if he wasn’t making sense.
“Lightning can’t see. And it doesn’t come back. It’s random, ‘lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place’ and all that. I’m calling nine-one-one.”
“No.” He raised a shaky hand and let it drop on top of hers as it went for her phone. “Can’t tell police. Rule Number One.”
“Mon, you’re in shock.”
“Tell them…lightning.”
“It was lightning. Ball lightning, I’m guessing, which I’ve heard can act really freaky.”
“Not lightning.” He took a stilted breath. “Magick.”
“An illusion?” But no, illusions didn’t inflict mortal damage. He was talking nonsense. “Mon, please let me get you help.”
“No use.” He sucked in a noisy breath. “Get the envelope I told you about…bottom desk drawer…and go.”
She sputtered a hysterical laugh. “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you.”
“Stupid, but not…crazy.” He gasped, his hand tightening on hers. “The person who sent it…danger, ducky.”
His words sank in. “You’re saying someone sent that lightning bolt to kill you?” The thought squeezed her throat, especially when he nodded.
“Read my…letter…explains everything.” Mon spoke with what looked like every ounce of his remaining strength. “Do not see your grandfather. Too…dangerous.”
“Brom’s been in that mental hospital in Alaska for years. Wait, are you saying he did this?”
Mon’s eyes widened with determination. “Cyntag, he…” He shuddered, then fell limp.
“No. No!” She put her fists on the uninjured part of his chest and pumped. “Come back. Come back, damn it.” Even in her disbelief, grief tore at her.
A sound whispered behind her. She spun to find the green ball sailing down the curved stairs and into the den. An acrid smell hit her nostrils. Smoke rolled out of the upstairs hallway, and she heard a whoosh in the den. The ball shot back out and hovered a few yards in front of her. She stared at it, almost mesmerized by the green sparks inside—until it came at her.
With a yelp, Ruby ducked as it whizzed so close that she felt a sting on her forehead, then smelled burnt hair. Her hair. She grabbed one of the knives she’d dropped as she launched to her feet. It tingled in her hand, emitting faint electrical shocks. She couldn’t take even a second to look at it. The ball floated a few feet away, following her movements.
Following her movements?
Like Hunter/Prey. “What are you?” she screamed. Orb popped into her mind.
Flames licked inside the den and along the stairway banister. The orb had set the house on fire. Now it wanted her. What the hell?
It zinged toward her, and she threw the knife. It flew faster than she thought possible, stabbing the orb. It shuddered, vibrating so fast that she could barely discern the movements. It disgorged the knife, which disintegrated like friggin’ dust. But it had done something. The orb was smaller now. She needed to get the other knife.
The orb flew at her, and she ducked around the backside of the heavy foyer table. Hunter/Prey. It was all coming back. Wood crackled behind her, and smoke filled the house. Noxious fumes tickled her throat, hot and cloying, and she fought the cough burning up her throat.
Flames filled the den now, licking into the foyer as though they were testing the air. She lunged for the other knife but the orb cut her off. It had intelligence, all right. The knife seemed to glow, though it was probably reflecting the green sparks. Or maybe not. Obviously it wasn’t a normal knife.
The orb circled the foyer. She could barely see it now because of the smoke and the tears in her stinging eyes. Coughing spasms wracked her body, and smoke strangled the air from her. Have to get out of here. She backed toward the door.
The orb flew behind her, sending her jerking forward. Ruby feinted right, then ran toward the kitchen. It beat her to the door. The kitchen was already in flames, but a clear path to the exterior door remained. She took several steps back, facing the orb as it followed. Pretending to head to the front door, she twisted around and slid across the floor toward the second knife. She and Mon had played a form of paintball in his old house, which had marble floors and long hallways. She got good at sliding on the slick surfaces.
The knife tingled again as she gripped it in her sweaty palm. She spun around, searching for the orb. Not seeing it, she ran into the kitchen. Black smoke billowed in the upper portion of the room. The orb hovered between her and the door. The damned thing was keeping her from escaping!