Page 21 of These Godly Lies
Questions buzz like a hive in her lungs, urgent and pointed, but she knows better than to release them. There is a time for questions and there is a time for trust. Anna knows exactly where this moment falls.
She runs into the house, her throat tight and her heart drumming in her ears. Jiro’s in the kitchen, just like she expected him to be. He looks up from the garlic he’s mincing, his expression hardening into a scowl when he sees her.
“What’s wrong? Why—”
“You need to come with me,” she urges, voice hushed.
It feels like they’ve talked about this moment a dozen times over, but Anna still flips through her memories of the conversation as if she doesn’t know his instructions by heart.
Go to their room. Hide in the crawl space, directly under their bed. Wait for Khiran to find her to either tell her it’s safe or to whisk her away.
Jiro’s hand is sweaty in hers as she leads him down the hallway. She doesn’t release it until she opens the closet and lifts the hatch in the floor. “You go first,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice steady. Jiro’s expression pales. If he didn’t know the severity of their situation before, he certainly does now. “I’ll close it behind us, okay? But we need to move quickly.”
He swallows thickly, but gives a jerky nod before lowering himself beneath the floorboards. Anna quickly follows, feet first, before reaching up to close the door over their heads. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, the smell of wood and earth thick in the small space. She’s not certain if it’s the dark or her rabbiting pulse, but it feels more claustrophobic than she remembers. The timbered floor joists hang so low, she has to go on her hands and knees to clear them.
She finds Jiro’s face in the dark and tips her chin in a silent order to follow. As she shuffles through the dirt, the occasional stone biting uncomfortably into her knees, she tries to measure how far to crawl. From the vents under the front porch, she can catch the sound of voices but can’t interpret the words. Khiran sounds steady, though. That alone reassures her that, at the very least, they have some time.
After about ten feet, she stops, turning her body so she can lie on her back. Above her head, a chalked ‘x’ marks the trusses, assuring her that she’s in the right spot. Jiro follows her lead, settling beside her. In the dim, his eyes are wide and wild with fear. She grasps his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze while bringing a finger to her lips.
Stay quiet.
He visibly swallows. Nods.
Together they wait, muffled voices the only clue to their fate. Anna stares up at the trusses, her heart beating against her ribs like a drum. Silently, she counts, her lips moving with each number.
Twenty seconds in, the voices quiet. For a brief, blessed moment, she thinks the danger is past.
Then Khiran appears from nowhere, one arm winding around her waist while the other grabs a startled Jiro. Anna sees a flash of blonde hair, hears a furious curse from behind him before space folds in on itself. Jiro’s yelp is lost in the nothingness, twisting until it sounds like it comes from another world entirely. Then their backs hit the ground with wildflowers tickling her cheek and Khiran panting over them with eyes so wide, Anna can see her own fear reflected in them.
Jiro pushes himself up, his hair as windswept and wild as hisexpression. There’s an unsteadiness in the way he’s standing, a sick sheen to his complexion that tells her his stomach feels as twisted as her own. His legs falter, his body disappearing, half hidden by the tall grass as he retches.
Anna rolls over, bracing herself on her hands and knees and wills her stomach to settle and her vision to stop spinning. Khiran’s hand is at her back, rubbing small, apologetic circles.
He releases a breath, the sound so sharp, Anna wonders if he must have been holding it. Standing, he offers her help up. There’s a jerkiness to his movements, an anxiety still trembling beneath his carefully controlled mask. “I’m sorry. I know this way of travel is harder on you.”
Jiro groans from his spot in the grass. “What thehellwas that?”
“We’re at Eira’s,” Khiran answers, even though they both know that’s not what the teen was asking. “If you’re ready, we need to move. Eira’s magic will fight against her following, but we don’t have long before she forces her way in.”
Anna thinks of the stories he’s told her—of how the betrayal Eira felt was sharpened by the consequences she had to live with after. Thinks of the flash of blonde, of the way Khiran insisted she hidebeneaththe house, and knows The Huntress does more than track his magic, she’s able tofollowit. This meadow is a reprieve, not a sanctuary. Her heart lurches, her hand finding the crook of Jiro’s arm and helping him up. She’s still dizzy, her steps clumsy and her world tipping, but she doesn’t dare waste time waiting.
They need to get Jiro to safety before securing their own.
“It will pass,” she promises. “Come on.”
He’s still lanky, but the years under her care have added height and muscle to his frame. Anna feels the weight of it now as he bumbles, steps slurred. She pales, turning to Khiran fearfully. There’s no comfort in his expression, only mounting horror. This wasn’t something either of them had planned for.
Jiro is mortal. The effects of travel are more poignant and lingering longer.
Khiran grabs him, mumbling an apology under his breath and hoisting him over his shoulder.
Jiro groans, his words muffled by the hand covering his mouth. “If I throw up, you’ll have deserved it.” It’s uncertain if it’s more a joke or a threat. Khiran doesn’t pause in his stride.
Eira meets them at the threshold, her blue eyes assessing the tightness in Khiran’s expression and the fear painting Anna’s gaze. She looks to Khiran, searching. “Who was it?”
“The Huntress.”
“Did she come alone?”
