Destiny Gift (The Everlast Trilogy) - By Juliana Haygert Page 0,87
asked.
He searched a bag and a coat he found draped over a desk. “Summoning Omi.”
My throat went dry. “What? So he did it? Brock called Omi?”
He showed me a car key in his hand. “Our way out.”
I recognized the keychain. Morgan had found Victor’s car key. “About the circle, Morgan.”
He finally looked at the circle. “I can’t tell. If we’re lucky, we interrupted the summoning. Otherwise, we’re wasting time talking. Omi could arrive at any minute.”
After a quick peek out the door to make sure drooling demons were absent, Morgan and I sneaked to the staircase.
Halfway to the staircase, I heard a caw and froze. What? Slowly, I turned toward a classroom with a half-opened door from where the sound came.
“What are you doing?” Morgan asked.
I opened the door the rest of the way and gasped.
Right in the center of the classroom, Micah was seated on a chair. He was bound by thick ropes around his bare torso, his ankles, and behind him, his wrists. His head hung low and he had several bleeding wounds spread across his body. And the raven, the one with the scar over an eye, sat on his shoulder.
Morgan shoved me aside and ran to him. “By the Everlast! We’ll get you out of here, my Lord.”
Micah grunted in response.
My heart squeezed. Among us, he had always been the strongest, the one who stood the tallest, the proudest. In truth, he was a god. Theoretically, an evil one. And now here he was, tied and hurt, small and weak.
Morgan tried to shoo the bird.
“Don’t,” Micah said. “He’s mine.”
Oh my. Swallowing my anger, I approached them and knelt beside Micah. This wasn’t the time to be mad at him for sending the bird after me, or for being the immoral god of death.
“I’m … sorry,” he croaked, tilting his head to me. He looked terrible with pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. “For not being able to … defend you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Gently, I cupped his face and held his head up. A cold jolt passed between us and he inhaled deeply. Glad I was still able to heal him from his internal pains, I continued, “There were too many.”
Startling me, the raven took off and hovered in circles above us.
From his waist, Morgan pulled the Crimson Blade out and cut the ropes. Micah started slipping to the ground, but Morgan and I held him. We put his arms around our shoulders and lifted him. Even weak, Micah stood and took most of his weight with him.
Morgan nodded toward the door. “We have to keep going.”
Midway down the last flight of stairs, something jumped out at us. Morgan fell forward and rolled down the rest of the steps—Brock on his back.
With Micah hanging from my shoulder, I sprinted down to the wrestling men. Morgan stumbled up, kicked Brock’s face, and ran to the nearest door, pulling Micah and I behind him. He shoved the door open. All we saw were demons. Dozens of them. And they had seen us.
The taste of bile built up in the back of my throat. My heart pumped so hard my ribs hurt.
“Leave me here and go,” Micah whispered.
“As if I would leave you behind, my Lord,” Morgan said.
Brock caught up with us. “Lord, you say?”
Damn it, now he would deduce Micah was one of the gods.
The raven dove toward Brock and, broken and hurt, Morgan punched the other priest in the face, then threw me the car keys. “Go,” he yelled. I stared at the keys in my hands, frozen. “Run, Nadine. Go! Take him out of here.”
I wanted to help him, I wanted to knock Brock down and carry Morgan to the car with me, even though Micah already weighed a ton alone. I wanted to be able to rewind. I wanted to go back in time with a note that said don’t trust Cheryl and start the last year over. If I could do that, I wouldn’t be watching a friend being punched to death while demons hunted and salivated for us.
But I couldn’t rewind and I couldn’t forget. I had to flee. I had to live. I had to take Micah out of here and deliver him to safety. My family needed me to live. I needed to live. But I couldn’t leave Morgan.
“Nadine—they want you both, not me. I’ll be fine. Go!”
Morgan was right—if I stayed, I’d die and Micah would be recaptured. If I ran, Micah and I just might live.