Seeker (Riders #2)(14)

Maybe it was human once. Not anymore.

It takes one step, and then another, hunkered as it comes, like it's preparing to spring at me. A low, purring sound gutters from its mouth.

"Stop! Don't move!"

It keeps coming, step after step.

Knife. I have a knife in my backpack.

The backpack I dropped. The backpack that's closer to the nightmare than it is to me.

Shit!

Beside me Shadow grunts to get my attention.

Get on my back. Get on, get on, let's go!

In a fraction of a second, I judge how close she is, how fast I am, how high I can jump-and then I leap.

My legs used to have the speed and strength to run hurdles.

They don't fail me. I grasp the horn and pull up, landing squarely in the saddle.

Shadow's turning before I jam my feet in the stirrups, accelerating in three powerful strides.

When I look behind me, the nightmare is bounding after us, cloak flapping, bony limbs churning.

It's fast-so fast it catches up, and launches into the air with that spidery weightlessness-the pounce of a predator bringing down prey.

Shadow sees.

She jumps to the side as I duck, wrapping my arms around her neck.

Something hooks into my lower back and drags across. Heat slashes over my skin, but I stay in the saddle as the thing flies past me.

Shadow keeps going but the creature doesn't pursue.

Why did it stop? Where is it going?

Dread hits me in the gut when I realize it's going after my backpack.

The orb's in there. I'll never get out of here without it.



       
         
       
        

I turn Shadow and grab the lariat tied to the saddle, the hemp smooth with use from lassoing teddy bears.

Dear God, really? This is what I'm doing?

As I get the rope circling over my head, Shadow rides true and smooth, like we've done this a thousand times before.

The nightmare sees us coming and sinks down in self-defense, but my throw is good-perfect.

The lariat slips right over the creature's head and falls past its shoulders. I yank hard, both of my palms burning as I draw it tight. Then I pitch the slack over a thick branch, catch it, and wrap the end around the horn a few times. Shadow does the rest, using her immense power to pull until the thing is hanging from the air, arms pinned to its sides, wicked feline hisses spraying from its mouth.

When I jump to the ground, my legs are shaking so badly that I almost collapse. I run to my backpack, pull out the knife, and throw the pack on. Pain flares in my lower back and blood runs a warm trail down my spine.

Holding the knife in front of me, I step closer. The creature stops struggling and swings gently, its black cloak oblivious to gravity, drifting on invisible tides.

This close I still don't see an end to those hollow eyes. It's like looking into two wells, so deep the bottom is unseeable. In appearance, the thing isn't a skeleton and it's not human-it's somewhere in between. But its movements are too eerily twitchy and sharp.

"What are you? Why did you attack me?" I ask the questions without expecting a response. The sounds the creature has made are too animal; there's no way it can speak. But speak it does.

"You won't find him," it says in a rasping voice.

Before I can think, I press the knife right beneath its jaw. "Sebastian? What do you know about him? Where is he?"

A wicked grin spreads over its face. The stench emanating from its mouth is like breathing grave. "You won't succeed until you fail. You won't win until you lose."

"What does that mean? What are you saying?"

"Your only hope is surrender." Another gust stirs past, shaking a million leaves. "Have more rope for my friends?" asks the creature, its attention moving past me. "Shame, shame. I fear you don't."

The smell carrying on the wind hits me again-that stale burnt stench. It's too dark to see beyond twenty feet in any direction, but I sense movement all around me. Sense it drawing in.

"Where is he?" I back away from it. "Is Sebastian alive? Is he all right?"

"Alive? Yes, more than me. All right? Perhaps, more than me."

Reaching Shadow's side, I mount up. Then I lay the edge of the knife on the rope. I have to cut it loose if I'm going to get out of here. But cutting the rope feels like it's also cutting hope. 

The rustling of the trees is still growing louder and I hear coarse hissing sounds rising in the air. There must be dozens of them.

I can't face that many. I barely survived one.

I dig the blade into the hemp and cut the rope.

The creature drops, landing on its feet. It looks at me almost expectantly, showing no sign of wanting to attack again. But then it doesn't have to.

In moments, I'll be surrounded.