Meg had been aiming at her heart. Blood bloomed across the hag’s
shoulder, and she shrieked as the hollow-point lodged itself in her
flesh. Meg cursed when Liadan staggered, but did not fall. She
remained on her feet despite the blood that was beginning to soak her
dress.
Liadan snarled as her eyes found Meg. Meg pulled the trigger, but
Liadan moved, jumping across the space. One moment, the hag was
there and the next she was ten feet away, the bullet flying useless
through the forest. Liadan held her good hand and spoke some words
Meg didn’t recognize.
It was as though a giant rush of pure energy struck Meg squarely
in the chest. It knocked her off her feet, but she didn’t hit the ground.
She flew back, the air sucked from her lungs. The hag grew smaller as
Meg raced backward through the forest. Everything seemed to spin
out of control. The weight of the gun in her hand was the only thing
that seemed real. She clutched it tightly and didn’t try to fight her
flight. Her back hit the rough bark of the tree, but Meg let her head
fall limply forward.
Breathe. Beck’s voice spoke inside her mind. He was calm and
patient, and Meg suddenly didn’t feel so alone. Beck was with her,
and he was lending her his experience.
Meg dragged in a breath as her body slid to the muddy forest
floor.
Bound
297
Stay down and take cover. Don’t panic. You can do this. Take out her heart and she’ll die.
“Easier said than done,” Meg complained quietly as she shoved
the gun in her holster and forced her aching body to crawl through the
mud toward a downed log. Every inch she crawled made her bones
ache, but she’d held on to the gun.