Gritting her teeth and bracing her strength, she coughed and choked. "Wait!"
When the fellow turned, she kicked him. With all her strength. He loosened his grip.
Megan saw her chance. She turned to run back toward the hotel. In the fog, she couldn't tell the direction at first. She heard her feet clip on the pavement.
Then, a tongue of fire suddenly lapped into the night sky. She spun around, realizing she had been running in the wrong direction.
And just as she did so, she felt a rush of wind. Someone coming, seeming to be all but part of the wind.
She kept turning, listening to the fall of feet on the pavement.
Darkness seemed to blacken even the murk of the fog, as if giant wings had unfolded before her.
And as it encompassed her, she heard her name again.
A whisper.
"Megan…"
As Finn ran, intent only on finding the direction in which Megan had gone, he crossed over the asphalt of the parking lot. The sounds of sirens, shouting, and cacophony began to fade the farther he ran.
"Megan!" he screamed her name, into the night.
Then he paused, gasping for breath, bracing his hands on his knees as he bent over, fighting the pain in his lungs. He listened intently, praying that he would hear her respond.
Megan did not shout back to him.
But he became aware then of other sounds.
Footsteps…
A rush of them, running… coming in his direction.
He straightened, spinning around.
Figures began to emerge from the fog. One, two, three, four, five… more. They were all clad in cloaks, some brown, some black. The cloaks were hooded. The people clad in them were wearing masks as well, most of them simple plastic, the kind that gave them all a faceless quality.
He was so furious and desperate that he was ready for them.
When the first man rushed him, his timing was precise. He kicked out in a split second, taking the man sharply in the jaw with the butt of his heel. A screech of pain ensued, but even before it had died out, others were rushing him.
At that point, instinct took over. Two came at him, and again, the years of martial arts training paid off, for he was able to throw out a punch and a kick at the same time, once again eliciting gasps and cries of pain. The one man was down, doubled over, the other was staggering.
But there were more.
Finn fought, and fought well, adrenaline and sheer willpower his main strength. But while he jabbed and lashed out as another two came forward for a frontal assault, someone jumped him from the back.
Someone heavy and powerful. He whirled, seeking a tree against which to slam his assailant. Someone else came to the side, using both his arms to snare Finn's one. Another attacker fell to capture his arm.
He still had his legs, and he used them with brutal dexterity. But even as he did so, he knew he was bound to go down. He could only take on so many of them for so long a time. Adrenaline could not sustain him forever.
One of the furious fellows he had first kicked came forward then, and delivered a blow to his chin that caused blackness to spin with a few pinpricks of stars before his eyes. "You'll have to kill me, you asshole!" he raged.
"He's not supposed to be harmed," someone else yelled.
Finn gathered all his strength, freed an arm, and lashed out with a solid kick again.
"Fuck that!" the man with the lethal jab roared, coming forward again.
Finn braced for a jawbreaking swing, but it never came.
The man was picked up cleanly and jerked away from him. The guy must have been two hundred and fifty pounds, at least, but he was picked up as if he were a feather. He was tossed aside.
He couldn't see his sudden ally, but he knew the fight wasn't finished. He used the surprise his attackers were feeling, and jerked free. He elbowed the man at his right side so fiercely that he was almost certain he heard a rib crack.
The man grunted in agony, falling halfway over. "Get up!" the man on Finn's back ordered his fallen comrade, but to no avail. The one who had been at Finn's side staggered into the fog, into the safety of the nearby trees. Finn again gathered his resources, ducked, and pulled, sending the man from the rear flying over his head to land with a thud against something on the ground.
Others flew at Finn again.
He kept spinning, fighting, struggling, but in time, he thought, it was going to end. There were only so many blows he could take before he went down himself. Only the thought of Megan, out there, somewhere, without him, kept him moving. They weren't going to win. They couldn't have her.
And still…
When it seemed a total loss, he became aware that bodies were flying all around him. His volunteer ally had an incredible strength. Finn wasn't about to give up his own fight; there had been too many of the caped and cowled figures after him.
And then, he took a jab at someone standing in front of him. Someone in a long black cape, no hood or cowl.
"It's all right!"
A hand fell on his wrist, stopping the blow he would have sent flying. "It's me," Lucian said.
Finn stopped and stared, shaking then with it all over, and furious. He looked blankly at Lucian.
"You!"
"Yeah, sorry, I suspected something would happen, but the fire took me by surprise. I shouldn't have been so late getting here."
Finn took that in, still studying the strange new friend who had made men fly through the night. For himself… he had to bend over, grasp his knees, and gasp in every breath. Finally, he could talk.
"Yeah, well, thanks… you came. We still should have gotten the shit beat out of us, you know? What the hell—did you work for Jackie Chan or something, spend time training with Ali?"
Lucian shrugged. "You can hold your own yourself," he told him. "Good thing."
Finn heard a moan, startling him from his concentration on Lucian. He saw that one hooded figure who remained on the ground. Walking to the man, he flipped him, staring first at the mask, then ripping the mask from his head. By then, Lucian was at his side.
"Know him?" Lucian asked.
"No… yes. It's one of the kids working in a novelty shop near Morwenna's witchcraft store," Finn said.
"I've never exchanged so much as a single word with him." His temper flew again and he bent down. "But we're going to exchange a few words now!"
He went to take the kid's shoulders, shake him back to consciousness. But Lucian's hand landed on his arm.
"You don't need to strangle him, or tear him up."
"I want to know what's going on. I want to know where Megan is!"
"He won't know."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I don't think he's going to know," Lucian said calmly. He hunkered down as well, taking the man's cheeks between his long fingers, and rolling the head back and forth. "Hey!" he said.
Eyes opened slowly. The pupils were huge in the darkness, totally disoriented, and then filled with panic.
The boy struggled backward on his elbows, staring at Finn and Lucian.
"What do you want? Take my money—it isn't much. I've got a watch, though. A good one. Take what you want, and leave me alone… hey, please! Don't… don't hurt me. Please."
"Hurt you!" Finn said incredulously.
"What's your name?" Lucian asked him.
"Peter Davis."
"What were you doing with that group of thugs?" Lucian said.
"What thugs?" the kid inquired.
"You were with a whole group of people in similar costumes. And you all came and attacked my friend here," Lucian told Peter.
Either the kid was a great actor, or he was being truthful. He stared at Lucian with sheer amazement. "I wasn't with any group of people in similar costumes! I opted for the cloak and mask tonight because it was easy. I had to work late." He shook his head, still in confusion and fear. "I came in really late, and then…"
He stopped speaking, more confused.
"I remember… a fire. Yeah… the fire. I remember running from the fire."
"Bullshit!" Finn roared, about to go for his throat to shake either sense or truth out of him.
But Lucian put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "He really doesn't know," he said quietly.
"I don't know anything, honestly, and I sure as hell don't know what you're talking about!" Peter said pleadingly. He took a second to survey his surroundings. "I must have run here from the fire. Was I hit on the head? No, man, my jaw hurts… and my ribs. Feels like I was gored by an elephant."
"You attacked me," Finn told him.
Peter shook his head, staring at Finn. "No man, not me. Hell, look at me, I'm a nerdy little guy, I'd never attack anyone."
Lucian offered Peter a hand; he came slowly to his feet, still groaning.
Finn would have doubted that Peter's lack of memory could be possible, except that he had seen the kid's eyes.
And suddenly he remembered that he didn't have time to sit here and try to force the kid to say something.
He didn't know where Megan was.
"Let the kid go," he told Lucian, fear trickling through him again. He was suddenly certain as to why he was attacked, and that was all that mattered. "Or do what you want. I've got to get back there. They've got Megan."
"If you don't let me go this instant, you are going to be so sorry!" Megan warned.
Blackness had given way to the night, but they were removed from the scene, hurrying down a dark road.
If he heard her, the man gave no sign.
She was being half dragged, and half led. The man had a grip of steel on her right arm. Panic was beginning to set in again.
She reached into the pocket of her skirt for the little bag of burdock she had gotten from Fallon earlier in the day. Still doubting her own sanity, she managed to pinch a few pieces from the bag and throw them at his eyes.
He frowned, looking down at her as if she were crazy. Either burdock really had no effect on evil spirits, or this was just a regular guy with some superhuman strength.
