She looked down at her body but saw nothing in the darkness—she’d lost her immortal vision. Dread closed around her and filled her lungs. Had she become mortal somehow? She cowered in a fetal position as the nightstalks approached, her muscles too rigid to move.
They raised their sharp nails above their heads and plunged them at her heart, and her chest relaxed long enough to release a desperate, blood-curdling scream.
The pain didn’t come. She heard a clean rip of fabric and felt nails scratching her throat, followed by angry snarls and footsteps fleeing on soft earth. The fear released her like fingers loosening from her neck. She opened her eyes and looked around. She was alone.
She got to her feet and broke into a run, shaking with fear. Gerard would be searching for her by now, and if she was mortal—
She stopped and touched her face. Her skin was smooth. She ran her fingers through her hair and met no tangles. She could see the outline of every tree and stick on the ground, though no moonlight penetrated the woods.
If she was still immortal, what had she seen in the nightstalk’s reflection? Was it a trick of the eye to weaken her?
If so, it had worked. But in the end, they couldn’t harm her, and that angered them. She shook her head in disbelief. Why had she fallen for the illusion? The nightstalks were more cunning than she expected. She took off again, her graceful legs running more swiftly than before. She must find the others before it was too late.
The forest thinned and opened into thick prairie grass, and the sky to her left grew pink with the rising sun. She squealed and clapped her hands. She had come the right way! A slight breeze ruffled her clothes, and she looked down and gave a startled cry. In her haste, she’d forgotten the nightstalks had ripped her shirt. She clasped the fabric together, then pulled her arms into the sleeves, twisted the shirt around her neck, and slipped it on backward. The tear now dipped low on her back.
A rustling nearby startled her, and she dropped into the tall stalks of grass. As the sound drew closer, a dark, curly head bobbed into view. She frowned. The person wasn’t Rex or Jade and didn’t seem to be one of Gerard’s men. She lay on her stomach and tried to disappear in the weeds.
Alina gasped as a small, wasted man came into view. His clothes hung in tatters around his bony frame, and dark circles framed his eyes. His bare chest sunk with each breath, and his skin stretched over his ribs like tissue paper. Alina had never seen such a wretched-looking being, and as pity overwhelmed her, she stood up and started toward him.
With a screechy cry, he flung himself at her, kicking her legs and punching at her face. He teetered backwards and collapsed on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Alina said. “I didn’t mean to startle you—”
The man jumped to his feet and snarled. She kept her distance as he surveyed her. He seemed to be considering whether to attack again or not. With a dramatic shriek, he turned and fled into the grass.
Alina’s heart raced, reminding her that while her body was invulnerable, her emotions were not. She grieved for the man and his haunting, distrustful eyes and felt certain he came from Pria. Her eyes widened as she made the connection.
Sampson tortured this man until he went mad, then sent him into Pria to search for a lost loved one. Someone out there would be heartbroken to see him so miserable. Alina swallowed and pushed the thought of Zaiden from her mind.
In the distance she heard the sound of an engine revving, and her heart leaped. The rescue party must be close by now. She scanned the horizon until she spotted a brown vehicle bouncing over the hills in the distance. She dashed toward it.
As she drew near, she noticed the vehicle had no roof. A middle-aged man sat behind the wheel, craning his neck and scanning the grass. Alina waved her arms as she ran, and when he saw her, he stopped the car and jumped out.
“You must be Alina!” he called, pulling off his hat.
“Yes!” she exclaimed.
“I’m so glad I found you! I’m from Millflower. My name’s Maxwell Gardel.”
Alina beamed. “How did you know to look for me?”
“Lance called me. He made contact with Baylor, who said you’d been separated from the group.”
“Do you know if Baylor and the others are okay?”
“Oh, yes, they’re fine. They’re in Millflower, being treated for wounds, but nothing too serious.”
Alina blinked back happy tears as Maxwell motioned for her to get in the car. After they settled in the front seat, he slapped his hat on his head and jerked the car into motion.
“When did they arrive in Millflower?” Alina asked.
“This morning. About midnight I received a call from Tim, another of the search crew, confirming he’d found them. He called again this morning after they arrived safely in Millflower. Lance called yesterday afternoon and told me you’d been taken. Eight of us have been searching since then. You aren’t easy to find! How did you get this far out?”
“I traveled for a long time with Gerard and his men. They headed north.”
At the mention of Gerard’s name, Maxwell darkened. “Vile brute,” he muttered under his breath. “I’d love to hear how you outwitted him. We expected a fight to get you back, after all.” He gestured to a stockpile of guns and explosives in the back of the car.
He looked at her expectantly, and she realized he was waiting for the story. “Oh! Well—” she flushed. She didn’t want to explain what Gerard’s men almost did to her. “Once they made camp, they tied me to a tree a short distance away. While they
