Now she would have to think of a plan for Thaddeus as well. Perhaps Darius would have an idea.
Chapter 38
Celia glanced behind her at the sound of the door opening. The locked front door was now slightly ajar, a sliver of dim light showing through the crack. She could leave now, go back to Greta and tell her that she found Lyssa, that she tried to bring the girl out with her, that she had done all she could.
But had she? The girl had surprised Celia with the vehemence of her reaction when she tried to bring her into the front room and that was why she dropped her. If she went back up to the third floor she could probably find her again, and this time she’d be ready to hold on to her more tightly.
She was making up her mind to go back into the house when the noise of the locks clicking open on all the doors in the corridor sounded like cracks of thunder. Above her, on the upper floors, she could hear doors opening, one after the other.
She had no way to fight that many of the hunters at once. And there was nowhere to hide in this room. Fighting back a sob, she turned and ran for the exit, tearing open the door and running down the steps to the street below.
For a brief moment, her first thought was to find the man who shut her in there and make him sorry for his actions. She could make it so that he never did that sort of thing to anyone else, and the world would be a slightly better place for it.
Then she noticed the deserted streets and the angle of the light. It was almost dawn, one of the times the hunters would be abroad, and they’d be coming from behind her. Somehow, she had been inside the manor the entire night.
There was a cacophony of whistles and the hunters emerged, one after the other. Celia spun, froze in fear for a moment, then took off running toward the fountain. But she was too close to them this time and ducking into it wouldn’t work. She could only try to outrun them, get out of sight and find a place to hide.
The hunters were fast. She could hear their footsteps on the cobblestone street behind her and their whistles coming closer, all different tunes jumbled together and piercing through her brain, making it hard to think.
She took the first turn she came to, veering to the left, off the main street that ran from the manor, through the town, and to the gates. Glancing behind she saw one turn the corner after her. Tall, lanky and dressed in bright red, it came straight for her. The rest ran on.
That was unusual. If they weren’t chasing someone, the hunters usually strolled along almost casually, searching for victims. Now, they seemed to be in a hurry.
Her immediate concern though, was the one right behind her. Even with all their masks being the same field of solid white, she recognized it. This was the one she hit the night Lyssa was taken. It seemed that maybe, whatever they were, they could hold grudges.
“Well,” she thought, “then let’s give it a reason to hold even more of one.”
She slowed enough for the thing to gain on her more quickly, then suddenly stopped, turned and lashed out, aiming for the mask. The hunter ran right into her, adding his momentum to the force of her blow. It felt like she had punched an old tree and something in her hand gave with a pop. A jolt of pain flared, but there was a louder crack and the thing went down.
Celia backed up, hands raised. Her left was fine, but her right throbbed and it was hard to curl into a fist. She knew how to do more than punch though, and kept ready, waiting for the hunter to rise so she could hit it again.
It didn’t. It stayed where it fell, sprawled on the street, motionless. Beyond it, other hunters continued to run by, ignoring anything else.
Celia was unsure of what to do. One of them was here before her, helpless, and she could finish it off, end the threat of this one at least. But what if it was like Lyssa and had once been someone’s husband, son, or brother at some point? What if they had been a good person who was taken and turned into something evil, through no fault of their own?
Besides, the behavior of the others was troubling. They were going somewhere else. Either they were leaving Dunfield or they were after a prey that one or two wouldn’t be able to take down by themselves.
“Stay there,” she said to the prone hunter and ran past him.
The rest of the hunters had a good lead on her, the nearest being a couple of hundred yards away— a small figure in pink, with spikes of blond hair. Lyssa. If she could catch her, she’d still have a chance to bring her home.
She put her head down and tried to run faster, arms pumping. No one else was out on the streets so she didn’t need to worry about dodging around anyone.
The hunters ran straight for the gates, which were still hanging drunkenly open. It didn’t appear that there had been any attempt to fix them since she came through weeks ago. There was no challenge as they passed through and ran on into the dawns light. And despite her efforts, she wasn’t even close as Lyssa slipped through.
Celia could see those that tried to flee the city, their bodies lying where they had fallen. Huge rats moved among them, and they and
