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A Kiss Of Shadows :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 265 из 338My body jerkedwith the suddenness of it, and the thorns answered that movement by jerking me into the air, free of ground.
I cried out.
Someone grabbed my legs, supporting my weight. I blinked down to find Galen holding me. "It's enough, Doyle," he said.
"They never drank so long from the queen," Frost said. He'd moved up to us, my knife in his hand.
"If we cut the vines, they will attack us," Doyle said.
"We have to do something," Rhys said.
Doyle nodded.
The sleeves of my jacket were blood-soaked. I thought vaguely that I wished I'd worn black. It didn't show blood as badly. The thought made me giggle. The grey light seemed to be swimming around us. I was dizzy, light-headed. I wanted the blood loss stopped before I got nauseated. There was nothing like nausea induced by blood loss. You felt too weak to move and still wanted to spill your stomach onto the floor. My fear was fading into a light, almost shining, sensation, as if the world were edged with fog.
I was perilously close to passing out. I'd had enough of the thorns. I tried to say "enough," but no sound came out. I concentrated on my lips and they moved, forming the word, but there was no sound.
Then there was a sound, but it wasn't my voice. The vines hissed and shivered above me. I looked upward, my head falling back bonelessly. The vines rolled above me like a black sea made of rope. The thorns around my wrist pulled upward with a sharp hiss. Only Galen's arms on my legs kept me from being lifted into the nest of thorns. The vines at my wrists pulled, and Galen held, and my wrists bled.
I screamed. I screamed one word: "Enough!"
The vines shuddered, trembling against my skin. The room was suddenly thick with falling leaves. A dry brown snow filled the air. There was a crisp sharp smell like autumn leaves, and under that, like a second wave of scent, was the rich smell of fresh earth.
The thorns lowered me toward the ground. Galen cradled me, picking me up in his arms as the vines let me down, slowly. Both Galen's arms and the vines themselves seemed strangely gentle, if teeth could be gentle while they tried to bite your arm off.
The sound of the door banging back against the wall was the first hint I had that the vines had pulled back from the door.
Galen was holding me in his arms with the vines still pulling my wrists above my head when we all turned to the spill of light from the open doors.
The light seemed brilliant, dazzling, with an edge of soft mist.
I cried out.
Someone grabbed my legs, supporting my weight. I blinked down to find Galen holding me. "It's enough, Doyle," he said.
"They never drank so long from the queen," Frost said. He'd moved up to us, my knife in his hand.
"If we cut the vines, they will attack us," Doyle said.
"We have to do something," Rhys said.
Doyle nodded.
The sleeves of my jacket were blood-soaked. I thought vaguely that I wished I'd worn black. It didn't show blood as badly. The thought made me giggle. The grey light seemed to be swimming around us. I was dizzy, light-headed. I wanted the blood loss stopped before I got nauseated. There was nothing like nausea induced by blood loss. You felt too weak to move and still wanted to spill your stomach onto the floor. My fear was fading into a light, almost shining, sensation, as if the world were edged with fog.
I was perilously close to passing out. I'd had enough of the thorns. I tried to say "enough," but no sound came out. I concentrated on my lips and they moved, forming the word, but there was no sound.
Then there was a sound, but it wasn't my voice. The vines hissed and shivered above me. I looked upward, my head falling back bonelessly. The vines rolled above me like a black sea made of rope. The thorns around my wrist pulled upward with a sharp hiss. Only Galen's arms on my legs kept me from being lifted into the nest of thorns. The vines at my wrists pulled, and Galen held, and my wrists bled.
I screamed. I screamed one word: "Enough!"
The vines shuddered, trembling against my skin. The room was suddenly thick with falling leaves. A dry brown snow filled the air. There was a crisp sharp smell like autumn leaves, and under that, like a second wave of scent, was the rich smell of fresh earth.
The thorns lowered me toward the ground. Galen cradled me, picking me up in his arms as the vines let me down, slowly. Both Galen's arms and the vines themselves seemed strangely gentle, if teeth could be gentle while they tried to bite your arm off.
The sound of the door banging back against the wall was the first hint I had that the vines had pulled back from the door.
Galen was holding me in his arms with the vines still pulling my wrists above my head when we all turned to the spill of light from the open doors.
The light seemed brilliant, dazzling, with an edge of soft mist.