"Look," I said, keeping my voice croaky and weak—which wasn’t really all that hard given I’d just been zapped. "I didn’t hide the book on the gray fields. The reaper did. And he doesn’t want the book found or used, trust me."
"Well, that is not helpful," he said. "I shall have to consult with my employer to see what he wants done." He paused, then added softly, "Please behave yourself. I am watching and—trust me—I can get to the switch far faster than you could ever hope to escape the wire or pull it free from the wall."
He turned away, giving me the only chance I was ever likely to get.
I released the wire. It made little sound as it snaked backward along the concrete. With my eyes on my captor’s back, I pushed carefully upright. My limbs protested the movement and lights did a crazy dance in front of my eyes, but I bit my tongue, using one pain to ignore the others.
Then I ran—as hard and as fast as I could—for the door behind the figure.
He sensed me—he was always going to sense me—but I crashed through the projection of his body and then into the door, hitting it so hard I broke it off its hinges, sending me and the door spilling into the small room beyond.
He was already up and running. I scrambled to my feet and gave chase, launching myself at him as he fled through a second door. We both went down in a tangle of arms and legs, rolling along the concrete before we dropped off a ledge and splashed into some foul-smelling water.
Forman swore, his body twisting and bucking, his blows raining across my shoulders and back. It was all I could do to hold on. I didn’t have the strength to fight back—not right now. Not when I was still suffering the aftereffects of both the electricity and the accident.
Then one of his knees hit my ribs and, for a moment, everything went red. I gasped and my grip loosened a fraction. He was up in an instant, and running yet again.
"Stop, or I’ll shoot," a voice boomed out behind me. A voice I recognized but wasn’t expecting.
Lucian.
Forman slowed and turned around. Surprise registered then his features disintegrated as the gun boomed and the bullet exploded his head, sending bits of blood and bone and brain matter splattering across the wet, slimy walls behind him.
As he slumped—lifeless and headless—to the ground, I battled the bile that rose up my throat. No reaper came to collect his soul, and that could only mean his death wasn’t supposed to happen now.
I closed my eyes and attempted to keep my breathing even as footsteps approached. Then Lucian was bending over me, his warm fingers lightly brushing damp hair away from my face. "Are you okay?"
I nodded, swallowed again, then said, "Why the hell did you shoot to kill?"