Again and again, he lashed out at me.
I lay there and let him hit me, cradling the knife in my hand and trying to hide it as much as possible. I didn't really have another option. I needed the knife to kill him, and if he realized that I still had it, he'd kick it out of my hand and keep on beating me until I ran out of magic.
Then he'd do the same to Sophia and the kid, and I couldn't let that happen.
Finally, after about three minutes of whaling on me, Zeke ran out of steam. He gave me one more vicious kick to the side."That'll teach you, you little bitch," he growled again.
I lay limp and still on the floor, as though he'd long ago knocked me out with his attack.
Zeke finally snapped back around to Sophia, who hadn't stirred the whole time. He focused his angry glare on her for a moment before turning to the boy.
"As for you two," he snarled, "you're both turning out to be more trouble than you're worth. And now I have to carry you all by myself."
Zeke kept grumbling as he leaned down and grabbed Sophia's shoulders again. Then he started dragging her around the counter and down the aisle. But he wasn't taking her anywhere. Not if I could help it.
I waited until he had reached the end of the counter and was trying to figure out some way to keep the double doors open long enough to shove Sophia through to the other side.
Then I climbed to my feet and staggered after him. Every movement, every breath, hurt, but I put my hand against my ribs, gripped my knife even tighter, and hurried after Zeke as fast as I could. Lucky for me, he was having a hard time with
Sophia's dead weight and the doors, so he was moving slowly.
He'd just managed to prop her up against the side of the counter when I crept up on his blind side and stabbed my knife into his back. But he was even bigger and stronger than his partner, and his punches had weakened me. So the knife didn't sink all that deeply into his muscles. I pulled it out, but before I could stab him again, he turned and punched me in the chest.
This time, I went down on the ground, and I didn't get back up. It hurt too much to do that.
Zeke loomed over me. "You are one determined little bitch, aren't you? Seems to me like someone should teach you some manners."
He reached for me, and this time, I knew that he wouldn't stop hitting me until I was dead. But the thought didn't feel me with dread. If anything, I got a sense of peace. At least, this time, I'd tried to do something. At least, this time, I'd tried to help, instead of cowering on the stairs and watching Mom and Annabella disappear into balls of elemental Fire.
That was something, I supposed -
A hand clamped around Zeke's ankle and yanked him down. I blinked, and it took me a moment to figure out what had happened. Sophia had finally woken up.
Zeke put his forearms out in front of him, breaking his fall, but he still went down on his hands and knees. Sophia scrambled to her feet, then threw herself onto his back, driving him into the floor. He arched back, trying to throw her off him, but she slapped his hands away, grabbed his head, and slammed it into the door on one of the stoves. The giant kept fighting, but Sophia kept her grip on his head and beat it into the oven - again and again and again - until the metal dented.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
She kept up a steady, furious rhythm, dashing his head against the oven door, as though she wanted to shove it right through the metal, each blow seeming a little harder and more brutal than the last.
Finally, after about the sixth or seventh time, something crunched , and the coppery stink of blood filled the restaurant. The giant quit struggling, and his muffled cries vanished altogether, although his arms and legs kept twitching with small, disjointed spasms.
Sophia leaned back and rolled off him, breathing hard.
She swiped her black hair out of her eyes, leaving behind a dark stain on her face - blood.
By this point, I'd managed to get back up onto my knees, although I had the knife speared into the floor as I used it to help hold myself up. Sophia noticed me watching her, grimaced, and dropped her hand, as if that would hide the fact that she'd just caved in a man's skull with her bare hands.
Against Fletcher's favorite stove, no less. Then her black eyes flicked over me, and she noticed the knife that I was still clutching and the blood that covered me too.
Sophia turned her head, looking for the other giant. Her eyes widened, then narrowed when he didn't appear, and she realized that I'd killed him.
"Not soft," I said, my voice coming out in a hoarse wheeze that didn't sound all that different from hers.
Sophia looked at me, her dark eyes almost sad. "No," she rasped. "Not soft anymore."
A low moan sounded in front of the counter. It took me a second to realize that it was the kid. Sounded like he was waking up.
Sophia got to her feet. It took her a moment to find her balance, but once she did, she leaned down and held her hand out to me. I took it, and she gently pulled me up. I wrapped an arm around my bruised, aching ribs. Sophia gently put her arm around my thin shoulder. Together, leaning on each other, we staggered around the counter and over to the kid- The rest of the memory abruptly faded away. At first, I wondered why, but then I realized what had woken me out of my dream.
Someone was dragging me through the mud.
Chapter Twenty-four
Apparently, I'd managed to pull myself far enough up onto the bank to keep from drowning. And now someone had put his hands under my shoulders and was pulling me the rest of the way up and out of the water.
I lashed out with my fists and legs, trying to get him to let go of me. But instead of being dropped, I felt a body slide down next to mine in the mud, and a pair of arms wrapped around me, holding me close. I kept fighting, kept struggling, but I was weak, and he was stronger than
I was.
After a moment, I realized that I wasn't being hurt, that whoever this was held me close and let me beat at him with my hands. I breathed in, and a rich, familiar scent filled my nose, penetrating the last fragments of the dream and my disjointed ride through the rapids.
I let out a breath. "Owen?" I asked in a low, tentative voice.
He drew me even closer, and I felt his hand gently slide through my tangled hair. "It's me," he whispered.
"It's me, Gin."
I finally managed to open my eyes, and I found myself staring into his bright, beautiful, violet eyes. I reached out and traced my fingers over his face, once again trying to smooth out the worry lines that marred his rugged features. He didn't wince, and he didn't pull away, despite the fact that my fingers were as cold as bony icicles, and
I left smears of blood and mud all over him. Instead, he caught my hand in his and pressed a soft kiss to my palm, right in the middle of my spider-rune scar.
"I've got you, Gin," Owen said. "Just rest, baby. I've got you now. Nothing's going to happen to you. I swear."
I nodded and relaxed that much more. I knew that Owen would keep his promise, just as I'd managed to keep mine to him, despite all the odds. But before I could speak, before I could thank him for coming after me, the blackness rose again in my mind, swallowing up everything else.
Things were disjointed after that.
Every time I opened my eyes, I got a flash of something different. Owen picking me up and carrying me through the woods. Taking me to some sort of sheltered, rocky outcropping. Laying me down on a sleeping bag.
Making me drink some water. Taking off my vest. carefully pulling my clothes away from where they'd stuck to my arms and legs.
He cursed. At first, I wondered why, but then I realized that he must have seen the gunshot wound in my shoulder, the burns on my body, and all the other injuries that
I'd gotten. I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that they didn't hurt too much, that I'd been through worse, but I drifted off once again.
The only things I remembered after that were the soft, soothing scent of vanilla and a few needles pricking here and there at my shoulder, arms, back, and legs. Owen must have brought some of Jo-Jo's healing ointment with him. That was the only reason I could think of why the pain of my injuries slowly lessened . . .
I don't know how much time passed before I woke up again. For a long while, I was drifting along in that peaceful blackness. Then I was snapped awake.
I was lying on my side on top of a sleeping bag. A small fire crackled in front of me, the smoke drifting above the shelf of rocks and then disappearing into the night sky. Owen sat in front of the fire, idling poking a stick into the flames. I lay there and watched the play of light and shadow on his face. He'd actually done it. He'd actually come back for me just like he said that he would.
I couldn't quite believe it, but it meant the world to me.
If it had been Finn or even Bria, I wouldn't have been so surprised. But Owen and I had been on such shaky ground lately. Still, despite everything that had happened between us, he'd come back for me. Even though it had been dangerous. Even though it would have been easier not to. Even though he could have been captured, tortured, and killed by Grimes and his men.
Despite all that, he'd still come back for me.
Owen must have sensed me staring at him, because he turned in my direction and smiled - a big, broad, beautiful smile that told me how happy he was that I was finally awake.
He started to get up and come over to me, but I waved him off.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
I sat up and winced, as a hundred dull aches and pains shot through my body. "Like I'm a very small rabbit that's been shaken to within an inch of its life by a very large, very angry dog. Remind me never to go white-water rafting. At least, not without an actual raft."
He laughed, and the sound wrapped around me like a warm, welcoming hug.
I stared up into the sky; it was dark, except for a smattering of stars twinkling far, far away. "What time is it?"
Owen held his watch up to the fire. "Just after midnight."
I'd gone over the cliff sometime in the afternoon. I wondered if Grimes and his men were looking for me or if they'd assumed that I'd been dashed against the rocks and drowned in the rapids. Either way, there was nothing that I could do about it tonight.
I glanced around the camp he'd made, but I didn't see any sign of anyone else's gear.
"I came back alone," Owen said, noticing my curious gaze. "Finn hadn't made it back from his trip yet, and Bria wanted to come with me. Phillip too. But I didn't give them the chance. I slipped away while they were tending to the others. I didn't want to waste a second getting back to you."
"Sophia? Warren?"
"Both safe at cooper's house," he answered. "It was slow going, but I was able to get them off the mountain and over there without any problems. Whatever you did to Grimes and his men kept them from chasing after us." I nodded. I'd tell him about how I'd iced over the ridge later. Now came the question that I was dreading the answer to. "And Jo-Jo?"
"She's doing much better," Owen said. "cooper was able to rest and replenish his magic while we went after
Sophia. When he woke up, Jo-Jo was awake too, and she helped him use his Air magic to heal her more. She's not a hundred percent, but she should be fine in a few days. cooper even had enough magic left to heal the worst of Sophia's injuries. Warren's too."
I let out a breath. Warren, Sophia, and Jo-Jo were all safe and on the mend - for now.
I thought of what Grimes had said, about how he was going to go after Sophia again. He wouldn't stop until he'd dragged her back up here to his twisted camp. He'd come looking for her sooner, rather than later, especially given what a mess I'd made of things. But Grimes was never getting his hands on Sophia again, I vowed. Because the next time I saw the bastard, I was going to end him.
"What about you?" Owen asked. "What happened?"
I told him everything that I had done to Grimes's men and everything that Grimes and Hazel had said to me.
Owen listened in silence. Then, after a moment, he grinned. "You really set fire to his moonshine operation?
I would have loved to have seen the look on his face when he realized what you did."
"It was rather impressive," I said, grinning back at him. "At least, what I saw of it was. I was hoping that the flames would spread and burn the entire camp to the ground, but that was probably too much to wish for."
"Probably," he agreed. "Men like Grimes always seem to have nine lives."
"Then I guess it's a good thing that I do too."
Owen returned my grin for a moment, but the expression quickly slid off his face, and his features turned serious once more. He stared at me before his gaze dropped back down to the fire. He started stirring the flames with his stick again. I wondered what he was thinking about, but I decided not to ask. He'd tell me in his own time, and there were other things that I wanted to know right then.
"How did you find me?"
"Well, when I hiked back to the ridge, I didn't see you anywhere in the camp. All I saw was a charred building and some guys putting out the smoldering remains of a fire. So I hiked back to the pit and the tombstones. I didn't know what was going on or where you were, but eventually, I was able to creep up and eavesdrop on a couple of Grimes's men. They were talking about how you'd jumped off a cliff and into the river. So I got out Fletcher's maps, since I'd brought them back with me, and I tried to figure out where you might have ended up downriver."
A piece of wood in the fire cracked, causing a few sparks to drift up into the air like fireflies. Owen watched them burn out before he continued his story.
"I hiked around the mountain until I reached the river, then followed it downstream for a few miles. I was searching for you, but I was also using my magic. I was just hoping that you still had on your silverstone vest."
