Without Mercy - Lisa Jackson [147]
“Are you a lunatic?!” she cried, cowering away from the horse, then flinging herself to the rails and trying to climb over. Smoke was growing thick in the air. She would leap on her attacker if she had to.
Surely someone would come! Someone had to hear all this commotion!
But the whistle of the wind outside drowned the frantic noises from within.
“Get back!” Maeve tried to climb out.
Her attacker swung the lighter.
Flames brushed over her face, a whisper of heat searing her scalp. She shrieked. Wavering flames took hold in the bits of yarn of her stocking cap, racing through her hair.
“What are you doing?” Maeve screeched, pain searing her scalp as she dug at the cap, ripping it from her head and screaming. She fell back into the stall, landing hard, flames burning in front of her face, the big horse kicking and rearing in terror.
Why was this happening?
Why, why, oh, God, why?
She forced herself to her feet, choking, the damned horse shrieking.
“Are you crazy?” she yelled, climbing the rails again. “Let me the fuck out of here, you freak!” Fear pounded through her skull.
“Don’t ever call me a freak!” Maeve’s tormentor’s face twisted cruelly.
Omen reared again, his nostrils wide, his black coat a sheen of nervous sweat.
Maeve cowered.
Steel-shod hooves slashed through the air. Close. So damned close! Smoke swirled and rose. Deadly flames crackled like Satan’s laugh.
Freaked and desperate, Maeve tried vainly to escape. She pushed and pounded on the gate, shoving into it, but the latch wouldn’t budge an inch. She climbed but was pushed back into the maniac horse’s box. “Oof!” She landed hard and scrambled away from the horse and the flames.
Crying from the smoke, choking, heat tingled up her legs as the hem of her pants caught fire.
“No! No! Let me out! Help! HEEELLLP! Oh, God, please, don’t do this!” Maeve begged on her hands and knees. She pulled herself up again.
Behind her, Omen shrieked wildly. Kicking. Trapped.
“Oh, God…Oh, God!”
Omen reared again.
From the corner of her eye, Maeve caught a glimpse of a horseshoe reflecting the fire’s shimmering light. “No!”
She lunged to one side.
Too late.
Bam!
A steel-shod hoof crashed into her back.
Crrraaack!
Bone splintered. Beneath her jacket, skin ripped away from flesh.
Pain, hot as fire, tore down her spine.
Maeve howled and tried again to thrust herself over the gate. She surged forward, but her legs gave way, crumpling beneath her. Her arms clung to the gate as flames crawled over her, engulfed her. “Help me,” she begged, her throat raw, tears streaming down her face. “Please, please…Oh, God!”
But her tormentor only smiled.
The panicked horse ran in circles, trying to escape. He lunged forward, another hoof grazing her shoulder.
The pain…It was all too much. Her world started to go black.
Maeve slid down the gate, her weight dragging her into the flames. Sheer terror streaked through her. “You’ve got to help me, please!” But her voice was just a dry whisper.
“Why not?”
What? Her attacker had experienced a change of heart?
The latch clicked and the gate opened.
Maeve dropped like a stone to the floor. Maybe now, oh, God, please, she was going to be helped.
Omen shrieked again.
He bolted for the open gate.
She braced herself.
Omen soared, trying to leap over Maeve. His body scraped one side of the stall.
Bam! A heavy, deadly hoof caught her head.
Maeve hit the floor. Pain exploded behind her eyes. For a second, everything went black, only to come back in clear, sharp focus.
Instinctively, she tried to get up.
Nothing happened.
Her legs wouldn’t move, not an inch.
Paralyzed? She was paralyzed?
No, oh…no…
She tried to turn to see her tormentor, but couldn’t; the smoke was too thick. She felt herself being lifted by her shoulders. A moan tore from her throat. It felt as if she were being ripped in two.
“Call someone,” she said, her mind fuzzy. Was her attacker really trying to save her?