Blood Kiss - Ward J. R. (чтение книг .txt) 📗

“We’re back where we started,” Craeg replied quietly. “This is where we began.”

When he pointed to the ground, she saw footprints, their footprints, in the loose dirt. Except the table with the water and the food was gone … and the bonfire had been put out—which explained the scent … and the fence had been moved into a different position.

It had been closed off to form a loop or a track.

“They have us going in circles?” Peyton demanded. “What the fuck?”

“Why?” Paradise asked, looking over at Craeg as their de facto leader. “Why would they do that?”

Thanks to her eyes having adjusted to the darkness, she could make out his strong features as he frowned and glanced around. When he shook his head, her stomach became a pit.

“What?” she said.

That only other female spoke up. “They’re going to wear us out. That’s why—”

The popping sounds of gunfire came from the left, another round of chaos lighting up along with those flashing muzzles as the group banged into itself, bodies colliding and causing bolts of pain to flare in Paradise’s shoulder and lower leg.

“Walk!” Craeg yelled. “Just walk and it’ll stop!”

And he was right. The instant they began moving in the direction they’d been going, everything went still and silent again.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that if they halted, they were going to be hit with more of those rubber bullets.

Paradise drew in a steadying breath. This was not so bad, she told herself. Their pace was slow and even, and she liked walking.

Better than being shot at, for sure.

This was going to be just fine.

Better than the pool. Better than being dragged over the floor while bound and head-bagged. Better than the explosions in the gym.

All she had to do was put one foot in front of the other.

To pass the time, she focused on what she could see of Craeg up in front, tracing the movements of his big body, from his broad shoulders to the way his hips shifted with each step he made. When the wind changed direction from time to time, she caught his scent and thought it was better than any cologne she’d ever smelled.

Who were his people? she wondered. Where was he from?

Did he have a mate?

Funny how that last one made her feel a pang in her chest. Then again, after everything she had been through tonight, no wonder her mind and her emotions were all over the place …

Around and around they went, until she began to pick out familiar trees and specific branches, until their footfalls carved a track in the earth, until the dull monotony began to get to her: No one aggressed upon them, fired anything at them, jumped over the fence to terrorize them.

It didn’t mean that couldn’t happen … but the longer none of that went down, the more her brain started to cannibalize itself, flipping from random thoughts about Craeg, to baseless panic, to images of her father, to … worry over whatever was coming next.

Glancing up at the sky, she wished she knew what the positions of the stars meant. She had no idea how much time had passed since they’d arrived in the gymnasium or even come out here for that matter. It felt like a lifetime since she had checked in and gotten her photograph taken. Even longer since she and Peyton had argued on the bus. But that was most certainly not true.

Three hours? No, too short. Five or six, she estimated.

The good news was that this had to stop at dawn. Sun was a non-negotiable even for the Brothers—and clearly no one was going to be killed. Yes, that gun stuff had been terrifying, but the people who had had real bullets shot at them were up on their feet, their wounds clearly superficial—and it was the same for anyone who had eaten or had anything to drink that had been tampered with.

So many weeded out. They had started with sixty. They were down to seven.

And she was astonished to find she was still hanging in. In fact, if she’d known that a stroll through the woods was the end to it all? Everything would have been so much easier.

Considering how bad it could have been, this was a piece of cake.

Chapter Eleven

One by one, they all went down.

The first to drop out was that male she knew from the glymera’s festival parties, her very distant cousin, Anslam: After a while, he began slowing, his gait falling off with a limp that gradually grew so pronounced, his entire body became affected by it. And then he just stopped.

There was some encouragement offered by the group, but he just shook his head and sat down to loosen the laces on his left Nike.

“I’m done. Let ’em shoot me. I’m fucking done.”

Even in the darkness, she could see the blood on his white sock.

“Come on, Paradise,” Peyton said, nudging her. “We gotta keep going.”

Looking into the dense forest, she wondered where the Brothers were. What was going to happen to him.

When the group started off again, she followed because she didn’t want to quit, and also—even though she was ashamed to admit it—because she’d never really liked the guy. He had a bad reputation with females.

It wasn’t long before the next fell by the wayside. And then, one after the other, they all crumpled. The feet were the thing. Or a thigh. Or shoulder. One by one … everybody took to the ground, to the well-worn dirt track they had created with their countless footfalls. And Paradise had the urge to help everybody, especially when Peyton began to sway next to her … and then weave as if he wasn’t sure what was in front of him anymore.

For him, it was the aftereffects of the vomiting. The water he’d taken in had refused to stay put, and dehydration had made him delirious.

She couldn’t not try with him, and she pulled at his arm, attempting to get him up from his knees when he finally collapsed.

“…home now,” he babbled. “I’m going to go home now. Bed, I need … food … I’m right by my house, look.”

It was terrifying to watch as he pointed ahead to the forest, his eyes rapt, as if he were actually seeing the mansion he lived in.

And it was then that she knew she shouldn’t push him.

“Come on,” the other female said to her. “If you’re still on your feet, you need to keep going.”

Paradise looked into a set of teal-blue eyes. “I hate this.”

“Nothing will happen to him. No gunshots, remember—for any of the others who gave up.”

“Go,” Peyton said with sudden focus. “I’ll be fine.”

In the end, she couldn’t really say why she put another foot in front of herself again. Maybe the lack of introspection was a symptom of her own exhaustion. Maybe she was delirious in her own way and she followed what was left of the group because her brain mistook them as a “home” of sorts.

Maybe her body was simply on autopilot.

And then there were two.

That other female, the one with the bright blue eyes, soon followed what Paradise now recognized as a pattern. First, she slowed and began to trip; then she outright stopped. When she didn’t fall to the ground, Paradise doubled back, thinking there was a chance.

“No,” the female said, cutting off conversation. “I’m staying here. You keep going.”

Paradise glanced at the single male who was still trudging forward: Craeg was still in the lead. Had been the whole time.

He hadn’t stopped for anyone.

He hadn’t offered any encouragement.

He just kept his pace without deviation or distraction.

“Don’t waste time or energy on me,” the female said. “I’ve made my decision. I can’t feel my legs anymore, and I think my shoulder is broken. If you can keep moving, you need to do it. You’re too tired to carry me, but even if you could, I will be no one else’s burden.”

Paradise’s eyes stung with tears. “Well … shit.”

The female smiled a little. “You’re going to win this.”

“What?”

“Just go. You got this, girl.”