Shot in the Dark (Shot in the Dark Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  "Couldn't park any closer?" Jon complained, looking at the half-mile walk ahead of them around the lake.

  "Too marshy if I get any closer," Cliff said, jostling Sylvia as he tucked a gun into his coat pocket. A glance in Jon's direction revealed he was doing the same—and packing plenty of those bits of metal that shot out of the weapon.

  "At least you're not the one walking." Jon raised his eyebrows at her, spotting her half-blanketed by Cliff’s shirt collar.

  She smiled at Jon and winked mischievously. "As if I would walk around here in the first place. I'd have no problem flying instead of being carried around, but you know…" She nudged Cliff's neck with her elbow.

  Cliff chuckled tensely. "Freeloader," he coughed.

  Gravel crunched beneath the humans' boots as they strode purposefully toward the caves. Sylvia was absorbed in her surroundings, narrowing her eyes in the distance when she noticed a few of the things she flew past nearly every night. She absent-mindedly played with the top fold of Cliff's collar, nerves tensing further with each rattling step that brought her closer to the caves. Just another adventure, she reminded herself.

  "Where should we start?" she questioned.

  "Here seems as good as place as any." Cliff switched on his flashlight and nodded to Jon. Their footsteps made damp impacts on the uneven, puddle-ridden cave floor. "Hey, do fairies have any sixth senses that could come in handy?" he asked, shining the beam in a corner.

  A noticeable silence drew out. She had been decidedly secretive about her background, other than when she'd eaten the pop-tart. She wasn't hopped up on sugar anymore, but Cliff received an answer nonetheless.

  "Yeah," she said carefully. "Magic. We have all kinds of spells written in old books at home. I've only memorized a few. I'm actually planning to sneak a book with a healing incantation for my wing once I get back. Those kinds of spells are way too long to remember." She paused thoughtfully and shrugged. "Well, even the shorter ones can tire me out. Anyway, the few that I do know are pretty simple. Some water and freezing spells. A spell that makes my skin glow. A little bit of illusion. Doubt that would be much use right now."

  "Well, we don't want you to tire yourself out unnecessarily." Jon stepped over a jagged rock and kept his flashlight beam on the floor. "That sounds pretty amazing, though. You'll have to show me sometime."

  She hummed in reply, not bothering to voice the fact that a magic show was out of the question, considering she would long gone by the time things settled down.

  A scuffling sound from deep within the cave echoed. Both men froze, and Sylvia clenched her fists on the fabric of Cliff's collar. Her eyes darted around the darkness, frantically searching for any signs of movement, even though the noise was too faint to be somewhere nearby. If only she could remember the complicated enchantment for night vision to get a better look.

  When nothing happened after noise faded, she relaxed.

  "You're too exposed up there," Cliff decided, after the two humans eased up from their defensive stances. He held up a hand for Sylvia.

  She scooted off his shoulder and fell into a crouched position on his palm, turning to look up at him. Her stomach dropped a bit, finding her view of him familiar to the night before—darkness lit only by flashlights.

  She swallowed. "And how are you gonna fix that?"

  Cliff pursed his lips, giving himself a once-over and turning disgruntled at the lack of options. “You’re so friggin’ breakable. Probably should’ve left you in the car.”

  Sylvia snorted. "That would have made an escape so much easier," she said sarcastically.

  Cliff rolled his eyes before he reached his free hand up to the breast pocket of his jacket. He brought her closer and held open the flap with one finger, allowing easy access for her to climb in. "You can see over the top there, right?"

  After being stuffed into Jon’s jacket pocket the night before, Sylvia wasn’t keen on a second round. But there was no time to argue, and truthfully she didn’t want to risk agitating Cliff’s temper. Stepping off his hand, she turned around and lowered herself into his pocket, gripping the top tightly to ensure she could catch herself from tumbling to the bottom. Her wing's injury protested at the rough contact with the fabric behind her. Her feet found the bottom, and she stood on tiptoes, barely able peer over the edge of the pocket.

  Her gazed settled on Jon, who was mostly covered with shadows. She frowned, noticing a strange look on his face as he stared in her and Cliff's direction.

  "You okay, Jon?" she asked, concerned with his distraction.

  Jon rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. ”I’m just worried. He’s right, you’re very… fragile.” His eyes, though hard to see in the dim lighting, lingered in her direction for a moment longer. He turned the light forward and led the way deeper.

  Even as Cliff began walking, she couldn't get Jon's answer off her mind. Then again, he seemed to have been worried about her ever since they'd captured her the night before, though she had been too frightened to appreciate it at the time.

  "I've got two guys with… guns watching out for me." The word felt so strange on her tongue. "What's there to worry about?" She hoisted herself up so she could fold her arms over the top of the pocket, the flap resting heavily on her shoulders.

  The humans chuckled half-heartedly in reply, then tensed mere moments later. Sylvia heard a click from Cliff's gun, a sound that made her feel he was getting ready to fire. There was another sound of movement from somewhere in the cave, prompting Sylvia to perk up in that direction. By the time she listened more raptly, the sound tapered off once again.

  They entered another section of the cavern. This time, Jon's flashlight illuminated a pile of bones in the corner of three larger rocks.

  "And…that's a human femur, if I'm not mistaken." Jon said it so casually that Sylvia shot him a look of disbelief. Her gaze was drawn back to the bones, and she began to worry that her pop-tart breakfast would be making a reappearance.

  Cliff sounded unsure. "What kind of dog has its chow den this deep?"

  "Feral, maybe?" Jon conjectured, already peering deeper into the shadows untouched by the flashlights.

  Sylvia's skin crawled with something she couldn't describe. A sort of dread that made her want to flee to cave for safety. Something deep down told her that something foul and twisted awaited them. Her fingers clutched tightly the fabric, but not for balance. Pale, she forced herself to look away from the bones and take a few deep breaths. She had mentally prepared herself for such a sight at the old house, but now it caught her completely by surprise.

  Both humans seemed to have forgotten that, while they used to seeing gruesome sights, Sylvia wasn't.

  "C-could you move the light away from there, please?" she requested in a soft voice.

  To her relief, Jon immediately averted the light. "Sorry," he said, sending a genuine look of apology and concern her way.

  Cliff patted the pocket comfortingly, a gesture that nearly made her jump out of her skin despite its kind intention. "It's gonna be fine," he reminded her before they pushed further on.

  More noises floated through the caverns, and this time they didn't fade. Sylvia swore she could sense the hunters becoming more wired with each second that passed. It became instinct for her to look anywhere the light was not, for fear of seeing something she didn't want to. Her knuckles went white from holding the pocket so tightly.

  Her gaze settled on the back of Jon's head. A surge of panicked worry rushed through her. Whatever creature lay ahead of them would certainly make Jon its first target. She had half a mind to speak up about it, but what good would it do? One of them needed to be in front no matter what. It simply amazed her that Jon was doing it without any prompting or hesitation.

  A continuous scraping and rustling sound made Sylvia lower herself until only her eyes were visible over the edge of the pocket.

  The flashlight beam kept getting glimpses of fresh red mixed with the dripping water. Her s
kin crawled worse than ever, her entire being begging to get far away. Try as she might to avoid looking, she simply couldn't.

  "Switch that off," Cliff said in a low voice.

  Jon complied without question. They stepped slower, more cautious as the noise became imminent. Sylvia watched Jon's faint silhouette put his hand to the wall and tug off a piece of vegetation: Weeping Moss. They were in the right place. Very slowly, they peered around the corner into the next cavern. The sound of a small waterfall trickled somewhere in the inky blackness, echoing off walls so distant that Sylvia had a hard time imagining the immensity of the cavern section.

  They held their breath when something moved—what looked to be an enormous dog, the size of a Great Dane or thereabouts. It was tearing off flesh, eating its dinner from a carcass possessively. Both humans ducked back out of sight. Sylvia could feel Cliff's heart hammering like a drum against her back.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and trembled, feeling the presence of the beast in the cavern with them, even if it was out of her line of sight. It was a pulsating, gnawing feeling in her gut worse than any hunger. That dog… something about it was wrong. There was a sickening ripping sound, and horrendous images blared in her thoughts. A bone crunched in the dog's powerful jaws.

  A gasping whimper escaped Sylvia's lips before she could clamp a hand over her mouth to silence it. The ripping and chewing sounds halted at once. Sylvia's insides iced over with horror. Over the rush of the small waterfall, she heard the click of claws on the moist cavern ground.

  Jon cocked his gun, prompting Sylvia's eyes to dart to him. He took aim in the dark. The sound of unclasping metal was the only excuse that the creature needed to charge. It snarled menacingly and bolted at them.

  Cliff shoved Sylvia down with one finger. There was enough force to break her neck if he wasn't so careful. Before she could protest, he jammed the flap shut. She immediately went to work on shoving it back up so she could see, but that was easier said than done.

  She heard a bullet fire from Jon's direction. It hit a distant wall instead of the dog. Her ears rang from the gunshot, but she managed to catch a scream of pain from Jon that made the hair rise on the back of her neck. There was a commotion of boots and claws scuffling on the cave floor, the sound rivaled only by the rush of the waterfall.

  Two more gunshots rang from Jon, and they must have hit their mark because the dog yelped. An even louder bullet fired from closer, from Cliff.

  Sylvia cringed, temporarily deafened from the proximity of the gunshot as she continued wrestling against the pocket flap. It shifted up a bit with her efforts. Her torso finally burst up through the slight opening she made at the corner.

  Her ears buzzed as she frantically looked around in the darkness. A large figure was slumped against the cave wall.

  Jon.

  No sooner had the ringing in her ears ceased, another menacing snarl erupted. The dog, though wounded, was making a run for Cliff. Fright and rage conflicted within Sylvia. The dog had injured Jon enough to bring him down. And if it took down Cliff, she would be entirely helpless, probably killed within seconds.

  The rush of the waterfall.

  Without thinking, she raised her hands and whispered breathlessly in Fae, calling forth one of the few spells she knew by heart. Her pupils dilated until her eyes were almost completely shrouded in black. She couldn't see the water, but she could feel it obeying the magic's call and climbing into the air like a floating river. Her whispered chants became passionate shouts.

  When her arms began to shake from the spell's exertion, she threw her hands toward herself despite the odd angle her torso stuck out from the pocket. The heavy torrent at her command was sent sideways at the beast as it was in mid-lunge at Cliff.

  There was a crash of water, a yelp as the dog was slammed into the cave wall, then nothing.

  Sylvia lowered her head, arms falling limply over the side of the pocket. She panted, exhausted but still alert enough to know that the strange, sick feeling from the dog that had been twisting in her gut was gone.

  A temporary aftershock of the spell seemed to linger in the air, but not for long. Cliff spared her a look of wild concern. He slid his hand under her hanging arms and pressed her to his chest, muffling the gunshot that followed. He pulled the trigger three times at the already-still form of the creature.

  There was a long pause. "Dead," he grunted.

  Even with his hand holding her in place, Sylvia lurched forward as Cliff swooped down to a crouched position. She was rubbed against him inadvertently as he leaned this way and that, his other hand feeling for an older wound on the dog's body. He seemed to find what he was looking for. Cliff sucked in a sharp gasp and drew away.

  "Crap, I hate being right," he muttered under his breath.

  A pained groan cut through the tense aftermath. Cliff immediately moved toward it, his footsteps shaking the fairy. Sylvia could hear Jon's deep breathing come into proximity.

  "Are you okay?" Cliff demanded, urgency bringing a rise in his deep voice.

  "I'm… ngh. Is Sylvia—"

  "She's safe." Cliff relieved her of the pressure of his hand and slowly withdrew her from his pocket. She felt tinier than ever, limp across his palm as his voice rumbled again. "I… think she saved my life."

  "Yes, I-I saved you." Groaning, Sylvia sat forward carefully and cradled her head in her hands as it throbbed from magic exhaustion. "Right after I nearly killed you! If I had just stayed quiet before, if it hadn't heard me, maybe you could have taken it by surprise, taken it down easier," she prattled, short of breath.

  "The thing was rabid, it would have attacked us anyway," Cliff assured her, both comfort and awe in his deep voice. "But, you… that was incredible."

  Sylvia bit her lip, color rushing to her pale cheeks. She never would have expected such a remark from Cliff, who had been wary at the mere sight of her last night. Her magic wasn't freaky or scary or dangerous, but incredible.

  Her moment of elation was short-lived when she heard Jon groan. She remembered the awful sound of him screaming in pain when the dog charged. The thing must have gotten its teeth or claws into him.

  The panicked concern she felt for him was enough to make her forget exhaustion. Her eyes widened at the sight of him in the flashlight beam. She shifted onto her knees at the edge of Cliff's palm, swaying dizzily. The light was uneven, but it was enough for her to make out a crimson stain soaking through the calf section of his jeans.

  "Jon! I didn't see what happened! Is that… b-blood?"

  "Just a little." Cliff tucked his gun away and used his newly freed hand to shine a flashlight on the wound before switching it off and shoving it in his pocket. "We need to get him to the emergency room."

  Cliff slid his hand halfway into his breast pocket again and tilted it, so the fairy was dropped inside. "Sorry. I need both hands."

  Jon hissed in agony as Cliff supported him and helped him to his feet. Sylvia's insides squirmed with worry. He sounded like he was in so much pain.

  "How bad is the wound?" she demanded, leaning out as much as she could without getting in the way. She recalled how lengthy the trip was between the countryside and the city. "How long will it take to get to get him help?"

  "Shit, I think it punctured an artery," Cliff breathed. "Need to get some pressure on it." He tore off a strip of his own shirt and wound it tightly around the bite on Jon's calf. Blood started to seep through immediately. He repeated the process with another two strips and tied them off.

  "Jon?" Sylvia prompted quietly.

  "It's fine," Jon said, and she knew he was lying through his gritted teeth.

  Cliff ignored this attempt to soothe Sylvia's concern and gave it to her straight as he draped Jon's arm over his shoulder and hurried back the way they came. "The hospital's about forty-five minutes from here. Thirty, if I speed."

  "No, no, no, that's too long," Sylvia said frantically, dreading the thought of sitting in the car for half an hour while Jon bled out next to her
. She was no expert healer, but even she knew it was a longshot he would survive with all that blood gushing out.

  She paused, a ridiculous thought forming in her head. All the things that could go wrong… but it could work. Another glance at Jon's pained face gave her all the motivation she needed.

  "I-I can heal him! We're not far from my home." Once she said it, she knew there was no taking it back. "I can run into the village and grab a book with a healing incantation."

  Jon aimed a wide-eyed look toward the fairy. Cliff stopped at the mouth of the cave, breathing heavily from supporting his friend's nearly limp weight. Lean or not, Jon wasn't a small guy.

  Cliff deliberated, but finally nodded. "Where?"

  "South from the lake, opposite where we came from," she replied, more confident. She could keep the exact entrance of the village a secret, she decided firmly, but at least lead them as close as possible to it. "You're going to need to move far away from the road, but the trees should be spaced enough for your car to pass. Eventually, you'll reach some willow trees. Stop right there and let me down. I'll get back with a book in a few minutes at the most."

  "Got it," Cliff grunted, starting forward again.

  ***

  With Jon laid out in the backseat, Cliff slammed the driver's door and started the car. As he drove away from the lake, he reached in roughly with one hand to retrieve Sylvia and placed her on the armrest in between the front and back seats.

  Jon could see how restless and jostled she was as she sat cross-legged on the new surface and played with her hands on her lap. She faced Jon, eyes darting over him anxiously. He blinked his eyes heavily in her direction, having trouble focusing on more than one thing at a time.

  He noticed her gaze linger on the blood-stained denim wrapping of his bite wound. Her green eyes shone with tears right before she shut them from the sight.

  "Just hang in there, Jon," she said, making a visible effort to keep her voice steady. "I'll get that fixed up in no time."