A snippet, 'cause it's going so well:
"You've lost a lot of blood," she said gently. "Why don't you let me call an ambulance?"
He seemed not to hear her. "Did the Council send you here?"
Sarah rocked back on her heels. Would she ever escape the Council?
"No. At least I don't think they sent me here, unless they have a kitten as a secret agent." She touched his hand. "Let me help you."
He started to pull away, then tightened his grip as his leg spasmed again. "You're real, aren't you?"
"Just as real as you are," Sarah said, but the entire exchange held an air of dreamlike proportions. "Was the bolt--" She couldn't believe she was taking this so calmly. "Is it like an arrow?"
"No. If it's like the others, it has a pointy tip."
Sarah stared at him. "The others?"
Michael closed his eyes. "This isn't the first time this has happened." He raised his right hand and showed her his wrist, where a circular scar--pink and newly healed--marred the paleness of his skin.
There was a matching scar on the other side.
"Who did this to you?" Sarah asked. "And why--"
Michael shook his head, his eyes still closed. "It doesn't matter." He sighed. "The kitten says to let you help, but I truly don't know how you can."
Sarah glanced down at the kitten. "The kitten says?"
With an almost superhuman effort, Michael clenched his teeth, grabbed his knee with both hands, and ripped it free, leaving a bloody silver bolt behind. He sat for a moment, ignoring Sarah's gasp, his face gray now, his lips locked against a scream.
"Of course the kitten would say that," he whispered, and fainted.
Sarah barely managed to catch him before he fell.
copyright 2005 Jennifer St. Clair
"You've lost a lot of blood," she said gently. "Why don't you let me call an ambulance?"
He seemed not to hear her. "Did the Council send you here?"
Sarah rocked back on her heels. Would she ever escape the Council?
"No. At least I don't think they sent me here, unless they have a kitten as a secret agent." She touched his hand. "Let me help you."
He started to pull away, then tightened his grip as his leg spasmed again. "You're real, aren't you?"
"Just as real as you are," Sarah said, but the entire exchange held an air of dreamlike proportions. "Was the bolt--" She couldn't believe she was taking this so calmly. "Is it like an arrow?"
"No. If it's like the others, it has a pointy tip."
Sarah stared at him. "The others?"
Michael closed his eyes. "This isn't the first time this has happened." He raised his right hand and showed her his wrist, where a circular scar--pink and newly healed--marred the paleness of his skin.
There was a matching scar on the other side.
"Who did this to you?" Sarah asked. "And why--"
Michael shook his head, his eyes still closed. "It doesn't matter." He sighed. "The kitten says to let you help, but I truly don't know how you can."
Sarah glanced down at the kitten. "The kitten says?"
With an almost superhuman effort, Michael clenched his teeth, grabbed his knee with both hands, and ripped it free, leaving a bloody silver bolt behind. He sat for a moment, ignoring Sarah's gasp, his face gray now, his lips locked against a scream.
"Of course the kitten would say that," he whispered, and fainted.
Sarah barely managed to catch him before he fell.
copyright 2005 Jennifer St. Clair
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