Taken by Storm (Raised by Wolves #3)(41)
Author: Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Callum didn’t get the chance to answer my question. The line went suddenly dead. I tried to redial, but three things stopped me dead in my tracks.

The lights started flickering.

The door to the cheap motel room we’d rented slammed shut.

And Griffin disappeared.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

IN AN INSTANT, CHASE WAS BY MY SIDE AND LAKE WAS at Maddy’s. Caroline slipped effortlessly into the shadows, her back pressed up against the corner of the room, her eagle eyes sharp.

Something dark and primal crept over Jed’s eyes.

For a second, there was silence, and then I heard laughter—a deep, throaty chuckle that sounded absolutely nothing like Griffin.

Not Griffin.

Caroline went to draw a weapon, but I met her eyes, and she read the order in mine. Blades and bullets might pass straight through this predator, but the rest of us in this room weren’t immune. The last thing we needed was someone going down to friendly fire.

Lake, try to find Griffin. I kept my words short and to the point. Wherever he went, whatever just happened, get him back.

I stepped sideways, appraising the room, feeling the air on my skin and trying to pinpoint the origin of the laughter.

Nowhere. Everywhere.

To my left, cracks spread along the surface of the mirror, giving it the gossamer appearance of a spiderweb.

Then it shattered.

Jed lunged to his left. A blade of glass flew into the wall behind him, grazing his back.

There were too many of us in this room. Too many targets, too much glass.

Run, my instincts whispered, from the most ancient part of my brain. Run, and it will chase you.

The thought came out of nowhere. I’d spent enough time worrying—and trying not to worry—about Griffin that I hadn’t thought much about the alternative, yet now I knew beyond knowing that if I ran, this thing would follow.

A hand clamped over my arm. Chase. He didn’t want me going anywhere. Our eyes locked, and we stood there, staring at each other, neither one of us willing to give.

On the far side of the room, cracks began spreading along the surface of the window. They spiraled outward, and then there was a whoosh of air, and glass exploded inward. The shards rained down, embedding themselves in skin—mine, the others’—tiny, razor-sharp, incessant.

If we stayed here, this thing might pick us off one by one. We couldn’t see it, couldn’t touch it, couldn’t fight back. Short of decapitation, Lake and Chase would survive, but Caroline and Jed were a different story.

Maddy’s baby was a different story.

Griff’s close, Bryn, but he can’t break through. Lake’s words were punctuated by the rumbling sound of the dresser, vibrating against the floor. Whoever or whatever this is, it’s shutting him out.

Griffin had been telling the truth—about everything. I’d doubted him, doubted Lake—

The top drawer of the dresser flew outward, crashing against the opposite wall with enough force that it splintered into pieces.

Another drawer. Then another. Shards of glass from the mirror. The nightstand.

In the middle of the room, Jed straightened suddenly, and his eyes narrowed, his pupils pulsing. There was something almost reptilian about his stare, but as the Shadow tore the room to pieces, debris biting into my skin, Maddy’s, Caroline’s—Jed’s posture changed from defensive to offensive.

Our assailant might not have been solid, but his makeshift weapons were. Bleeding adrenaline and power, Jed lashed out with a roundhouse kick, shattering one of the dresser drawers. A piece of debris became a staff in his hands, and then he was nothing but a blur of motion, deflecting projectiles with agility and speed that were beyond that, even, of a Were.

Run. Run, and it will chase me. I couldn’t shake the idea. What was happening in this room wasn’t our killer’s MO. It hadn’t Shifted yet. It hadn’t laid a ghostly hand on any of us directly.

Maybe it wasn’t used to facing off against groups.

That thought unlocked another one in my mind, a memory: the victim in Winchester was a girl. A teenage girl. Human. Before she had been reduced to blood and bones, she might have looked a little something like me: brown hair, tan skin….

The Wyoming victim had been a boy. A teenager. A human.

Most killers had a type. If this ghost—Shadow, whatever—was thirsting for prey, of all the people in this room, Caroline and I were the only two who might suffice.

Human. Teenagers.

Run, and it will chase me.

I ran. I jumped through the empty frame of a shattered glass door into air so humid, it clung like sweat to my skin. I ran harder, ran faster, ran like something was on my heels.

Come and get me, I thought. This was what our killer wanted, wasn’t it? One human, alone? At his mercy? Defenseless?

If I’d miscalculated, I’d just left the others to face the Shadow down alone. And if I was right, I might have just traded my life for theirs. I had no way of fighting this thing, no plan.

I could only hope that if I drew the monster out, Lake might be able to help Griffin break through, and together, they might be able to do to this Shadow whatever it had done to Griffin, send it wherever he was now.

Red, red, red.

I stopped fighting my racing pulse, the acid in my throat. I let it come. I beckoned my Resilience. I lost myself in—

Fear. The way it smells. The way it tastes. A small white room. No windows. No doors.

The change was instant and unmistakable. The sound of my own heart beating was drowned out by things a normal girl wouldn’t have been able to hear: the slight wind working its way through each blade of grass; gravel and rocks under my feet; heavy breathing, all around me.

It was here.

I’d run. The Shadow had followed. Had I not already been in Resilient mode, that would have flipped the switch, but this time, I felt the rush of power like a current instead of a wave. Each limb, each muscle, each cell of my body felt it separately.

It’s coming.

I ducked, falling into a roll and landing in a crouch. I couldn’t see the Shadow, couldn’t make out its form, but I knew where it was. I could hear its silence, feel the bloodlust.

I lunged to my left. It charged right. I dove forward. It came at me from behind. In a world of our own making, we danced, the monster and me.

Fight. Fight. Fight.

Harder, faster, farther, more. I couldn’t keep going like this indefinitely. Eventually, the Shadow would land a blow. Eventually, my knack would drain my body of everything it had.

Fight. Fight. Fight.

Without warning, the onslaught stopped. I felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing. A week ago, I might have lost hold of the state I was in—no immediate danger, no power, but I didn’t let myself.