Page 126 of Death's Daughter
Then with the last item, a paper cup full of coffee, I’m close enough to take the next step. In a shooting situation, you’re supposed to swarm the attacker.
In this situation, I just punch her. Thumb on the outside, leading with the knuckles.
It doesn’t have to be hard. It’s enough to stun them and show them you’re going to fight back. That’s usually enough.That’s what Officer Schute said.
Still, when blood spurts from Nova’s nose and she claps a hand over it, I’m filled with a gritty satisfaction.
While she’s reeling, I reach out andpull. The glow of her life is warm and bright, thick and rich. The sensation is like a square of dark chocolate melting on my tongue, but throughout my whole body. I’ve never felt anything like it.
Her bright blue eyes go wide with shock, and she staggers back, stumbling to one knee.
I keep pulling, as fast and hard as I can, with no effort to control or tamp down the effects on her. Like hauling in a catch.
Her shoulders hunch, curving protectively toward her chest, but she’s frozen, caught in the tide of my power.
For a moment, just a moment, I feel a spark of hope. That I’ve got this. I won’t need any help. I can take Nova down without help from—or commitment to—Devon and Carter. I can stop Nova and still keep my distance from the Old Ones. I won’t have to be the new Death.
But then, with a wrenching sensation that ripples back toward me, up my arm and in my body, Nova jerks her head up. Instantly the warm and rich feel of her stolen life waters down to something more akin to a Swiss Miss packet in a bucket of lukewarm water.
She’s fighting back.
I grasp for my hold on her essence, but it slips away, and then it’s gone completely.
Nova pushes to her feet smoothly, as if she was never down in the first place.
She shakes her head at me with a gentle smile. Except for the mocking tinge.
“I told you. Weak and stupid,” she says, lifting her hand toward me.
In the next moment, everything reverses itself. I can no longersense the life within her, and darkness creeps in from the edges of my vision.
The suffocating pressure against my chest holds me in place, and I can’t move. Can’t do anything to stop her.
“Leave her alone!” The words sound like they’re coming from far away. But I still recognize the voice.
No, Chessa.“Go!” I try to say, but the noise that emerges is a faint gurgle. I don’t feel my legs giving out so much as the reverberation through my body when my knees make contact with the ground.
Nova’s gaze flicks to a point behind me, and she starts to raise her other hand. I have nothing more to give, no way to stop her. Tears flood my eyes, despair clawing at me.
But then, Nova hesitates, her attention split between me and the corridor at my back.
Instinctively, I twist my head just enough to see behind me, blinking to try to clear my blurry vision.
It’s not Chessa who’s captured Nova’s attention. She’s vanished. I hope out the double doors and running for her life.
No, this is someone tall with a distinct shock of blond hair—Carter.
Oh my God, he came. Relief washes over me in tidal wave proportions, temporarily sweeping away my other concerns about him.
And right next to him? Devon sauntering down the hallway as if he’s not in a rush, as if he’s neverbeenin a rush. A choked sob escapes me.
But they’re not alone. Behind Devon, I catch a glimpse of a sleek and fashionable trench-coat-wrapped figure—Maggie—and then a pair of legs in baggy jeans with those filthy Vans. Shane.
Devon must have reached out toallof them, not just Carter. And they came. They’re here… for me.
More tears cloud my vision. I would sag down to the floor in overwhelming gratitude, but my body is caught in Nova’s power.
I scrabble for an escape, a tiny gap in the onslaught of Nova’s attack. But there’s nothing. It’s like falling down a steep incline and trying to stop myself. There’s nothing to hold onto.
