Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [122]
“Yeah,” the man in the passenger said. “I want to see the place, too. Let’s make the bitch show us.”
Charlotte’s pulse pounded. She was walking as swiftly as she could. Any faster and she would be running. She was very frightened, but her feminine intuition warned her that if she ran the three men would be out of the Vibe in an instant, pursuing her like a pack of wild animals.
“Is she ignoring us?” the man in the passenger seat asked. “Yeah, I think she’s ignoring us. That’s just flat-out rude. Someone needs to teach her some manners.”
“Damn right, Garrett,” Derek said. “Let’s get her.”
“This is stupid,” the man in the backseat said. But the other two paid no attention to him.
Derek brought the Vibe to a stop and jumped out. Garrett followed—so did the man in the rear seat, albeit with obvious reluctance. Charlotte knew that she had no choice now but to run. She fled toward the woods at the end of Merton Road.
Derek and Garrett laughed and gave chase. Charlotte’s only hope was to reach the dark trees up ahead. If she could get even a short distance into the Preserve she might be able to lose the three behind her. It was common knowledge on the island that things got very strange inside the Preserve.
There were risks to the strategy. She might get lost herself. It could be days before she was found or managed to stumble out on her own, if ever. According to the local residents it was not unheard of for people to disappear for good inside the Preserve.
The pounding footsteps got louder. Derek and Garrett were gaining on her. She could hear their harsh, angry breathing. She knew then that she probably would not be able to outrun them.
She was almost at the end of the pavement, thinking she just might make it after all, when a hand closed around her arm and dragged her to a halt.
She whirled, all of her still developing para-senses hitting the upper limits of her talent in response to the adrenaline and fear flooding through her. The driver, Derek, was the one who had grabbed her. Garrett hovered nearby. The third man hung back, clearly uneasy about the way the violence was escalating.
With her senses in full sail, she could see the dark paranormal rainbows cast by the auras of the three men. For all the good that did her, she thought bitterly. She did not need to see the flaring bands of ultralight to know that, of the three, Derek was the most unstable and, therefore, the most dangerous. Why couldn’t she have been born with something flashier and more useful in the way of a talent? The ability to deliver a psychic hypnotic command or a freezing blast of energy that would stop Derek cold would have been nice.
She had no choice now but to fight. She flailed wildly with the flashlight. A brief flicker of satisfaction swept through her when the metal barrel struck Derek on his upper arm. She hauled back for another blow.
“Who do you think you are?” Derek snarled. “I’ll teach you to hit me.”
His face twisted into a vicious mask. He shook her furiously. The flashlight fell from her hand. Her glasses went flying.
Garrett laughed nervously. “That’s enough, Derek. She’s just a kid.”
“Garrett’s right,” the man from the backseat said. “Come on, Derek, let’s get out of here. We’ve got a lot of drinking left to do tonight. I need my weed, man.”
“We’re not leaving yet,” Derek said. “We’re just starting to have some fun.”
He drew back a clenched fist, preparing to deliver a punch. Charlotte raised both arms in a desperate attempt to ward off the blow. At the same time, she kicked Derek in the knee.
Derek howled.
“Are you crazy?” Garrett said.
“Bitch,” Derek screamed. He shook her again.
A shadowy figure materialized out of the woods. Charlotte did not need her glasses to see the obsidian-dark hues of a familiar ultralight rainbow. Slade Attridge.
Slade moved toward the driver with the speed and lethal intent of an attacking Specter-cat.
“What the hell?” Garrett yelped, startled.
“Shit,” the man from the backseat