Chapter Seven

Oh, What Fun It Is to…Jump!

Mallory heard the sound of snow crunching beneath large boots as the Fae Hunter drew closer. He was barely twenty feet away, she guessed, and gradually closing in. How had they not heard him until now? He must have been treading as carefully as possible. The thought sent a chill through her body, though she was wearing a coat. Just how long had Boris had them in his sights?

Quick as lightning, Lance lunged at her. Before she could scream, he grabbed her, pulling her away from the tree. She stood panting behind him now, peeking around his wide back at the threat that had just appeared.

Boris looked the same as the last time she’d seen him. Same large coat. Same bushy brown beard flaked with snow. The same green eyes that promised one thing and one thing only: It was the end of her life.

She stared into those eyes, feeling as though she was staring into the depths of death itself. This was it. Boris had found them. Or had he been trailing them all along, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal himself? The second possibility left her feeling even more uneasy.

“Boris,” Lance said with surprising steeliness. “You don’t have to do this.”

The Fae Hunter took a few steps closer, then planted his feet in the snow. His gaze shifted to the blade still lodged in the tree trunk. Then his eyes drifted back to Mallory as though Lance wasn’t even in the picture.

“Step aside now if you want to live,” he said. “Leave her for me.”

Mallory had never heard him speak before. His voice was surprisingly gentle, like on a TED Talk or a radio show. She’d expected it to be deep and menacing, but it was the calmness of his tone that gave it an even more deadly edge. This wasn’t just some wild, bloodthirsty killer. The Fae Hunter was meticulous, the type of person who calculated every possibility.

Aside from death, there was one other thing she saw in his eyes. It was cold intelligence. What was it that Lance had told her about Boris earlier?

He won’t stop until you’re dead.

No wonder. The Fae Hunter was persistent, too. Intelligent, persistent, and dangerous. The type of man who was disciplined but beyond morality. The type of man who didn’t care how much blood was shed as long as the job was done.

It was probably too early to profile the hunter after two interactions and a single statement, but Mallory remembered reading books and watching documentaries about serial killers to—ironically enough—kill time in her apartment when she wasn’t working at the Living Grace Hospital. She’d learned enough to establish a pattern among them. This man was likely the same.

Even now, she felt nauseated at the thought of all the other fae who must have died at his hands, all those innocents whose last view had been the cold, green eyes of the man who had hunted them down and driven his blade into their chests. Her knees began to tremble, and she fought the urge to turn and run but decided that her safest option was to remain with Lance.

He would protect her…wouldn’t he?

“I watched you pull her out of the snow,” the Hunter said to Lance. “You are not fae. I have no business with you, but if you continue to interfere, I will have no choice…”

He reached into his coat, and Mallory held her breath as Boris withdrew a blade identical to the one embedded in the tree. It gleamed in the sunlight, promising pain and death.

“I won’t ask again,” Boris said. “Step aside.”

For a second, Mallory felt Lance stiffen, and she knew that he was contemplating his options. If he left her at the mercy of this obsessed murderer, he could walk free and head back to his cabin without any hassle. After all, wasn’t she the only reason he’d gone through all this trouble instead of heading straight home? If he stayed and tried to protect her, he’d be putting himself in danger.

She sucked in a breath. This was the end, after all. It was obvious which option he would pick. She might as well start saying her last prayers because—

“No.” Lance’s voice sliced through her thoughts.

Mallory blinked. “Lance, what are you—?”

He gave her a gentle shove that sent her stumbling back a couple of feet. She regained her balance just in time to see a gleam enter Boris’s eyes.

“Have it your way, then,” the Fae Hunter said.

He struck!

For a man so large, Boris was unusually quick. All Mallory registered was a dark blur and a flash of silver as the man lunged at Lance. Lance dodged the blade, but Boris’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling onto the snow.

The Hunter turned to her then, his eyes narrowing, but he had only taken a step toward her when Lance’s hand shot up and grabbed his leg. With a growl, Boris struck at him again, but Lance was quicker this time. He rolled to his feet, sweeping a handful of snow in Boris’ face.

It was a crude attempt, but it worked. Boris lifted an arm to shield his eyes, and Lance ran at him. The Hunter swiped at him with his blade, but it didn’t stop Lance. With a yell, he slammed into Boris, knocking the other man into the nearest tree, which groaned and snapped with the impact, landing on the forest floor with a deep thud.

I need to do something, Mallory thought.

Reluctantly, she tore her gaze from the struggling men in the snow to the second blade still lodged in the other tree. If she grabbed it, maybe she could make this a fairer fight for Lance. Or she could stab Boris while he was distracted. Mallory didn’t know much about combat, but she certainly knew how to locate an artery.

She’d taken a couple of steps toward the tree when she realized she might not be able to pull the knife free. Then she had another idea, and she frantically reached into her MediPack, pulling out the scissors. She looked back at the two men struggling. If they could stop writhing just long enough for her to sink the scissors into his—

With an inhuman roar, Lance flung Boris off him. The Fae Hunter sailed a few feet and slammed into a tree, and Mallory saw her chance. Or so she thought. Ignoring the terror that gripped her and threatened to cripple her, she charged at Boris but only made it a couple of feet before a hand grabbed her arm.

“Let’s go!” Lance screamed in her ear, pulling her away.

Boris was climbing to his feet.

“Come!” Lance said tersely. “This way!”

Mallory could barely see where they were heading. She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Boris retrieve his weapons and give chase, speeding toward them like a whirlwind.

That was all she needed to see. Epinephrine surged through her veins like water through a broken dam, and she picked up speed, running alongside Lance through the woods, through the snow. Where they were headed was a mystery, but they had to get out of there before Boris caught up with them.

“This way!” Lance said, darting suddenly to the right, and she followed suit just in time.

Behind them, she could hear Boris pursuing them. She might have her back to him now, but she was staring in the face of death. And as far as she was concerned, death had green eyes and a pair of blades.

Mallory spotted the problem way before Lance said, “No!”

Up ahead, the rows of trees presented a path for them to follow, coming to a stop about thirty feet away. As they drew nearer, Mallory saw things even more clearly. It wasn’t just the woods that seemed to end at that point. Beyond it, there was no snow, no ground she could see.

“It’s a cliff!” she panted. The memory of the mountain rushing up to meet her flashed through her mind. “Lance, we can’t—”

“We have no choice,” he told her, pulling her by the arm before she could decelerate.

The sound of metal scraping metal filled the air behind them. Boris was gaining on them!

It was now or never.

Jump and risk death, or hesitate and face certain death.

The odds of surviving weren’t great, but Mallory had no other options.

She squeezed her eyes shut as they reached the ledge. Lance’s arms wrapped around her, and she felt her feet leave the ground. All weight seemed to fall from her body. A high-pitched sound filled her ears, but whether it was the wind in her ears or her own scream, she didn’t know. All she knew was that they were falling and fast.

It occurred to her midair that opening her wings only moments earlier might have prevented her present situation. But by now, it had to be too late. Not to mention, Lance’s arms had tightened around her.

When they landed, she barely felt the impact, but a pained grunt from Lance told her all she needed to know. Mallory opened her eyes, still wrapped in his arms, and craned her neck. There was nothing but snow as far as she could see. Snow and rocks. No trees.

Lance groaned, and she felt his grip on her relax. She rolled off his body, and he sat up.

“We survived,” he said, staring above her head.

Mallory followed his line of sight, and her jaw nearly hit the snow. The cliff had to be at least a hundred feet high. Maybe even two. It was a miracle they’d survived the fall, but something else caught her attention. Standing right on the edge, staring down at them, was Boris.

“He’s not going to jump,” Lance said as though reading her thoughts.

“What makes you so sure?”

“He’s not insane enough to try.”

Boris gazed at them for another moment, then he turned and disappeared from view.

“We need to keep moving,” Lance said. “We’ll find a way to get back up, but for now, we need to get far away from him. Are you okay?”

It hadn’t even occurred to Mallory to check herself for cuts or bruises. She quickly examined herself. She’d lost her scissors back there, but otherwise, she was okay. “I’m fine. But you don’t look so good. You took a leap of faith—literally. I’m surprised you’re not already comatose.” Or worse, she thought with a chill.

His face and neck were covered with bruises and small scratches. Her gaze dropped to his torso, and she stifled a gasp. Two cuts marked Lance’s chest where Boris had struck him, just above the heart. The reality of what had happened set in then. If Boris had aimed the slightest bit lower, he wouldn’t be breathing right now.

As if that weren’t bad enough, he’d just thrown himself off the edge of the cliff, not knowing how far they’d fall or where they’d land.

He’d risked his life to save her.

Twice.

“I’m okay,” Lance told her. He tried to get up, wincing with the effort. “I’m fine.”

The look on his face told her otherwise, but Mallory said nothing. She climbed to her feet, and they continued moving away from the cliff, away from Boris. Right now, that was what mattered most.

Still, she couldn’t shake the guilt that swept through her at the thought of all that had happened. They’d known each other no longer than a few days, and she’d already put him through so much.

But she would be dead by now if he hadn’t helped her when he had. She might have died in that avalanche. She might have frozen or starved to death without him. And right now, Boris would have skewered her if he hadn’t fought back. So far, he’d been no less than her guardian angel.

But he didn’t like her. She was a fae, and he clearly had something against her kind. So why was he going through so much trouble to help her?