The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,104

off. I watched numbly as I was unhooked, willing myself to run, but only managing to make my knee twitch.

And then all hell broke loose.

I sat with my head rolling back, watching as an enormous figure dispatched the guards one by one until the three of them lie in crumpled heaps on the floor. Boris? The humming in my ears grew stronger, and I felt as though a heavy weight were being pressed down on me.

I could see Barbara come around the desk, hurling the heavy crystal ashtray at the gigantic intruder, missing him, and sending a shower of glowing sparks raining down on the carpet. She seemed to be moving in slow motion, leaving vibrating trails of color behind her. I was rendered completely immobile, and all I could do was watch as she reached into her purse, pulled out a gun and waved it around in a panic.

Two loud popping sounds cut through the buzzing in my ears, and then I could no longer hold my head up, feeling my chin hit my chest as I slumped forward in the chair. The blackness clouded my vision, and the very last thing I saw before my eyes closed was Congresswoman Barbara Watson, sprawled akimbo across the floor at my feet.

I could smell acrid smoke, and feel my body being lifted and gently cradled. A soft voice crooned to me in an unfamiliar language, and I could feel something stroking my face. I was floating, drifting in and out of consciousness, when a fresh blast of cool sea air hit my face. I fought a losing battle to keep my drooping eyelids open, and one last strange thought crossed my mind before I succumbed.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR

THE FIRE

I was swimming in the warm water of Hawaii, the motion of the waves rocking me and soothing away all my pain. The turquoise waters gradually darkened, and a spinning whirlpool formed all around me. I struggled desperately to escape the powerful force, but it pulled me in, whirling me around and around, forming a funnel that reached all the way down to the bottom of the sea. “No!” I cried, fighting against the irresistible pull of the water,“Nooo!”

I opened my eyes, struggling to lift my head. The sharp smell of unwashed man hit my nostrils and I fought to focus on the shadowy figure looming over me. My head started spinning and I turned aside, coughing and retching. A hand brushed the hair out of my face and I flopped back down weakly, trying to make sense out of the blurry shapes and fuzzy images that swam before my eyes.

“Wherum I?” I croaked, my voice hollow and slurred, “Whoer you?”

The shadowy figure stirred, leaving and returning to cup the back of my head and lift a plastic bottle to my lips. I was parched, and I took a sip of cool water, squeezing my eyes shut and swallowing. I concentrated, my eyelids flickered open, and I focused on a familiar face looking down at me, smiling with a dreamy, glazed look in his coffee colored eyes.

I shrank back in shock as I recognized the curly black hair, dark eyes and thick neck. His nose had been flattened by many crushing blows; his skin was criss-crossed with the scars of past battles. It was a face straight out my nightmares, but I was pretty sure I was awake. Peter’s enormous brutish guard had me alone and helpless, completely at his mercy.

“Curly,” I whispered in terror.

He raised his enormous paw to my face and I flinched, quivering as he traced his fingers down the side of my cheek. I tried to sit up, but my limbs were unresponsive, still leaden from whatever they’d given me. I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of what had just happened, recalling images of Barbara and her muse-proof guards being hurled around the library as though they were weightless. Clearly, Curly wasn’t working for them.

I felt something brush my lips, lifting my heavy lids to see that he had bent down to kiss me, upon which my eyes flew open in shock. The adrenalin rush gave me the strength to scoot away, clawing my way backwards through a tangle of blankets like a crab until I came up against a camouflage green tarp that was staked into the ground

“Mah-rhi-na,” he said, grabbing me by the ankle.

I cast my eyes about in the dim light, my head reeling. I could smell plants