Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [61]
Every single one of them is dead.
“This is the end of the world, Whit,” Celia says. “I mean that literally. Your world ends right here. There, another world begins.”
I start to race down the slope. If we’re this close to so many dead people, the river can’t be far.
And neither can my parents.
The rest of the Resistance follows me, rushing through the eerily lush green field toward our salvation.
“Wait!” Celia shouts, her voice trembling. “Not that way!” She turns and points at the path behind us. “They’re coming,” she whispers.
And then I see them, tearing over the hillside, teeth bared. Not dogs, exactly, or even wolves. Beasts.
Spirit-suckers — nonhuman Lost Ones. Flesh-eating fiends with the body of a beast and the mind of a demon.
I turn to Ragan. “I promised you I’d tell you if it was bad. Well, we’re there. It’s really, really bad. Run!”
But there’s no time — they’re already upon us.
Celia crashes into two of them, her bright light exploding against their evil, but though she’s unharmed, they aren’t afraid of her. They plow through her like air, and one seizes a kid from behind, snarling and thrashing. Celia is pleading in anguish, clawing at the animal’s rank, rotting fur from behind, but she’s too late.
A scream rips through the air, and I whip around to see a wolf tearing into Janine’s shoulder. I run for her, but Feffer beats me there, lunging at the creature and distracting it from its feast. Feffer is no match for the beast, and she yips in pain as the soul-sucker bites at her legs and locks its jaws on her throat.
Wisty loved that dog.
I grab the closest object I can find — a bone — and rush toward them, arms raised. I strike a blow at the soul-sucker and it releases Feffer, lurching instead for me, its yellow eyes cold and calculating. It snaps at me with those long jaws, rows of teeth glistening, but I show no mercy, bashing the monster again and again as it roars at me furiously, until finally it collapses.
I kneel down to Janine’s crumpled form and turn her over. She blinks up at me. Still breathing.
“Hey,” I say, emotion warping my voice.
“Hey,” she responds with a weak smile. “Good to see you.”
I open up her shirt over her right shoulder, and she winces. The bite is a nasty gash, and the flesh there is shredded. But she’ll live.
While war between man and beast rages all around us, I try to find calm to repair the damage. I put my hands on Janine’s bloodied shoulder and wait for the power to surge through me, but my magic is only a flicker, the healing energy totally drained.
I drape Janine’s arm around my neck and look around wildly for help, but most of the Resistance fighters are still engaged in to-the-death combat, and those who have managed to kill a soul-sucker or escape are far too weak now to help channel my power. Things are getting desperate.
We really are in hell.
Chapter 67
Wisty
THE STREETS ARE eerily quiet and free of guards as Byron and I sprint away from the palace. It’s looking like a clean getaway, which is just about the only lucky thing that’s happened to me in the last year.
It’s still dark, but the street kids are already out en masse, their plastic garbage bags slung over their shoulders as they pick through the streets for anything left by the careless rich. The competition is cutthroat, and once they realize we don’t have a bean between us they don’t pay us any mind.
A black dog noses around in the garbage in the dim light of the alley, and my heart aches for Feffer. The dog’s ragged ears prick up at the distant howl of a pack of N.O. hunting wolves, and his tail goes between his legs.
We’re barely out of the range of the wolves and searchlights before Byron is wheezing like an asthmatic eighty-year-old smoker after a workout. I notice my own exhaustion for the first time. It’s either keep going or collapse at this point.
“Do you have any idea where we’re headed anyway?” I ask. I probably would have preferred to ditch