Carpathian 06 - Dark Fire

again, a high-pitched, unusual cry. She instantly received the impression of a steep cliff. She was out of the water, back pedaling quickly, keeping her eyes warily on the gun. It never wavered from her heart, though Brodrick didn't follow her across the fast-moving stream. Evidently he didn't want to get his shiny shoes wet.
    His first shot reverberated loudly. A bullet whined close to her ear and kicked up dirt and pine needles several feet behind her. Tempest stumbled backward but refused to run. The rocks underfoot were sharp, tearing at her soles. The lacerations barely registered, though as a second shot had her backpedaling again, moving as fast as she could, her gaze riveted on the ugly little gun.
    Time seemed to slow down. She could see individual leaves rustling in the faint wind, hear the bird overhead scream its warning. She even noticed the way Brodrick's eyes became flat and cold. She kept Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    moving backward.
    "Why are you doing this? What if you're wrong? Then you have killed an innocent person because you think her traveling companions are vampires. I'm out here in the hot sun, in broad daylight. Doesn't that tell you any-thing?" She tried to buy herself time.
    "That mark on you is all the proof I need," Brodrick explained. "You're their human servant."
    "Then half the teenagers in America are slaves to vampires. Don't be stupid, Brodrick. I'm a mechanic, nothing else." The rocks were slicing her feet, and Tem-pest was beginning to feel desperate. There had to be a way out of this mess.
    Behind her, she felt empty space under the heel of one foot. The rocky expanse ended abruptly on the edge of a cliff. She stood on that edge, over open air. She could feel the unstable dirt beneath her feet crumbling. The bird screamed again, this time much closer, but she didn't dare take her eyes from Brodrick to look up at the sky or behind her.
    "Jump," he ordered, grinning at her, waving the gun. "If you don't jump, I'm going to take great pleasure in shooting you."
    "It might be preferable," Tempest said grimly. Falling to her death didn't seem highly desirable.
    Tempest, I can feel your fear. The voice was calm and steady, with no hint of haste or emotion. Your heart beats far too fast. Look at what it is you fear, that I may also see what you have gotten yourself into. Darius sounded far away, miles away, a disembodied voice.
    She kept her eyes trained on Brodrick. I'm certain he was partially responsible for the attempt on Desari's life a few months ago. He said as much. She stared intently at the gun.
    Brodrick pulled the trigger, the bullet striking inches from her foot, the ricochet zinging off a rock and flying into space. Tempest cried out, losing her precarious balance, her arms flailing to aid in regaining her footing.
    She never saw the gun turning slowly but surely to-ward Matt Brodrick's temple, never saw his finger tight-ening on the trigger. She wasn't a witness to the beads of perspiration dotting his forehead or the horror in his eyes. Tempest never saw the weird battle with Brodrick's unseen opponent, the struggle for control of the weapon. In Darius's present state, with his great strength low in the daylight hours, he had to use tremendous mental powers to overcome the human's own strength. She heard the loud report of the gun as she fell over the cliff's edge.
    Darius swore, deep within the ground. Tempest would get into trouble now, of all times. It was still too early to rise; he was weak and vulnerable, unable to go per-sonally to her side. Few but the strongest, the most an-cient of his kind, could give aid at such a time. Only his iron will, honed by centuries of enduring, and his terrible need of her allowed him to do battle with the human who threatened her. With the sun high, with the earth covering him, still his will prevailed.
    Tempest's fingernails scraped frantically at the cliff's side, trying to secure a purchase that she might prevent herself from falling to her death. She slid, the crumbling dirt and rocks scoring her hands and breaking her fin-gernails as she fought the soil for anything she might hold onto. It was a tree root jutting out of the craggy rocks that broke her fall. It hit her squarely in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Still, she grabbed it with both hands, hanging on with all her strength while she wheezed and fought Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter,