Severed(46)

‘The lamp,' Evie hissed sideways at Cyrus.

‘I'm using the lamp,' Cyrus replied between gritted teeth.

Evie glanced down and saw that he was telling the truth. He was holding the lamp and aiming it at the Original but the usual flop to the ground and start-hissing thing wasn't happening. Nothing was happening. The man didn't even seem to have noticed the UV rays bouncing off his skin. All his attention remained fixed on Evie.

‘What do we do?' Evie asked, her voice trembling. Why hadn't Issa warned them of this?

‘We kill it,' Cyrus whispered back, but she detected the waver in his voice as he said it.

Evie's gaze darted to the floor for a weapon, something more substantial than a saw blade. The flamethrower lay on the ground just by the Original's foot. She glanced back up at him, weighing her options. If only she could distract him and make a dive for it she might be able to bring it up and blast him with flame. But would he even feel it? Would the flames just bounce off him, like the UV light was doing? Before she could figure out whether to take the risk or not, the Original took a quick stride forward. The flamethrower crunched like a sheet of aluminium foil beneath his foot. Evie stared in flaring panic at the flattened buckled metal and then lifted her eyes to the Original's face. He was still smiling at her. She took a faltering step backwards, her knees shaking.

‘Vero,' Cyrus called out urgently under his breath.

An arrow went flying past Evie's ear and bounced off the Original's chest as if the shaft and the tip were made of rubber. The man caught the second arrow in his hand and tossed it to the side with a bored expression. But then his lips stretched back over his teeth, the dark rings of his irises flooded with blood, and he let out a roar which shook another layer of debris from the ceiling.

Evie's hand closed around the circular-saw blade she'd stuffed into her pocket. She pulled it free and clutched it to her chest. Chucking it would be like throwing confetti at him. She brought her elbow back anyway and took aim. But just as she was about to let it fly, the Original vanished into thin air, reappearing a split second later in front of Vero, his speed so unexpected that all of them stood blinking, including Vero, who didn't even have time to move a muscle. The Original's hand closed vice-like around her neck as he lifted her clean off the ground. A gargled croak burst from Vero's throat and her eyes bulged out of their sockets. Her toes scuffed the ground as the man dangled her in front of his face and snarled. Ash yelled, throwing himself at the Original, levelling a stream of roundhouse kicks to the chest and arms.

The Original flicked Ash away with his free hand as if he was deadheading a plant.

Evie threw the saw blade, watching as it struck the Original on the side of the head and bounced straight off. The Original turned to Evie and narrowed his eyes. She felt Cyrus back into her, trying to shield her. The Original tossed Vero to one side. She smashed into the wall with a thud and lay there unmoving. Out of the corner of her eye Evie saw Ash limp towards Vero's body, but then all her attention was drawn back to the Original. He was ambling towards her, studying her curiously. She stepped backwards, her foot crunching on the flattened flamethrower. What now?

Evie cast around once more for something  –  anything  –  she could use to distract him, just long enough for her to make it through the Gateway. And at just that moment she saw it  –  the hilt of it, poking out from beneath Vero's leg  –  the shadow blade she had picked up earlier. With a hurried glance at Cyrus who was now circling the Original, distracting him, Evie threw herself sideways, falling half on top of Vero, her hand closing around the hilt of the blade and dragging it free in the same instant.

‘Hey!' she yelled from her position, crouched by Vero's side, ‘it's me you're after! It's me you want!'

The Original stopped stalking Cyrus and turned his head towards her.

‘Evie!' Cyrus yelled out in anger.

She ignored him. ‘Come and get me you piece of  … '

The Original was in front of her before she could finish her sentence, his knees level with her head. She glanced up at him and then with a scream leapt to her feet, bringing the blade up and driving it straight through his throat. It slid through his flesh as easily as a butter knife through frosting. There was an ear-splitting roar which cut off almost instantly and then a crash which shook the ground as his head hit the floor and rolled like a bowling ball across it, coming to a stop right by Ash's foot.

For a moment everyone stood in stunned silence, gaping at the head. Then Evie looked around. Ash had pulled Vero onto his lap and was trying to shake her awake, calling her name over and over. Eventually Vero stirred and groaned, opening her eyes and screaming loud as she saw the Original's wide, gaping mouth staring up at her. Margaret was standing in the corner, breathing heavily, tears rolling down her cheeks.

And Cyrus was in front of her. Gently, he took hold of her arm, which she realised only now was still raised, and lowered it to her side, then he eased the blade free from her rigid fingers. After staring at her for a few seconds until he was sure that she was OK, Cyrus walked over to the Original's head and dropped a lit match into its open mouth.






     
 

      Chapter 45



Evie was first through the gap in the wall. She stood there paralysed, staring at the blinding white light opposite. So this was the way through. It looked like a mirror reflecting the sun. The light was so fierce and white hot she couldn't look at it straight on, couldn't even make out the edges of it when she squinted. There was no way of telling what lay on the other side. Other than oblivion, that was. Which was probably a good thing all in all. If it had just been a doorway with five thousand blood-high unhumans visible on the other side she doubted she'd have been able to walk through it.

Her heart was suddenly beating a thousand times a minute, her breath short. Wasted. She shouldn't have to struggle for breath  –  not now, when every single gulp of air was a luxury, something she wanted to savour and suck deep. Her legs were shaking and she felt angry at their betrayal. She hadn't come this far to not be able to finish what she'd started.

The others were standing at the edge of the room, waiting, watching, and the resentment bubbled in her. She suddenly felt what it must be like to be a prisoner on death row, with everyone staring through the glass waiting for the switch to be pulled. Except she was expected to strap herself in and throw the switch all by herself. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should ask Cyrus to push her through  –  one good hard shove. But then she gritted her teeth. She needed to take her dignity with her, that much she knew. Was it going to hurt? That's what she couldn't help wondering. She drew comfort from the knowledge that it didn't seem to hurt any of the unhumans that came through. But then again, it didn't kill them either.

She was doing everything in her power not to think Lucas's name. Not to picture where he might be right this instant, above them somewhere. Had he managed to kill that Shadow Warrior on the roof? What if Issa had failed to see something? Evie tried telling herself that everything so far had gone exactly as Issa had foretold and surely that was a good sign. That had to mean that Lucas was fine. And, besides, she was sure she would feel it if he wasn't.

She stared at the way through and took another small step towards it. She thought about asking Cyrus for the shadow blade he'd taken from her. She hadn't figured she would need it  –  but what if? She almost laughed at herself.

She could sense the others getting restless behind her but none of them wanting to call it. Was she supposed to turn around and offer some last words of regret or forgiveness or farewell? No. The last thing she wanted to see before she died was Margaret's face. She wouldn't mind seeing Cyrus's  –  she might be able to draw some reserves of courage from seeing him. But Issa had said she should just walk and she shouldn't look back, so she stayed squinting straight ahead of her at the Gateway she was supposed to walk through. No, not supposed to, she corrected herself, that she had to walk through.

OK. She lowered her head. One step. Two steps. She could reach out and touch it. She lifted her hand. Her fingers grazed the edge of the light and she turned her head away, blinded by a spray of golden sparks. A tingling feeling shot up her arm as if she'd touched a live wire. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs full, and held it as if she was about to free dive a thousand metres. Then she closed her eyes.

‘Evie!'

Her eyes flew open, the breath exploding out of her. She wasn't supposed to turn. She was supposed to keep walking. But a hand closed around her wrist and she was spun around.

Cyrus was holding her, gripping her hard now by the shoulders. He stared at her for a few seconds, his expression fierce, then without a word he placed his hands on either side of her face and pulled her towards him, bending his head at the last minute and kissing her on the lips.

He let her go just as suddenly as he'd kissed her, his hands falling to his sides. Evie gasped in a smoke-filled breath of air. Cyrus was watching her intensely, his breathing unsteady. ‘Don't ever let anyone tell you chivalry is dead, OK?' he said hoarsely.

‘What?' she asked, her own voice husky.