96. Sloan
NINETY-SIX
SLOAN
Even with their inhuman gift of speed, Sloan knew there was no way they were going to make it through the city and reach New Hope’s main entrance ahead of the alarms. Already she could imagine the massive doors being swung shut.
All around them, people screamed or dove out of their way. Horses bucked at the sight of Sloan and Aareth pounding down the middle of the streets.
Sloan found herself with a free moment to worry about how Pia, Harrison, Edison, and Elwood had done.
Not only that, but the idea had also entered her mind that she had made an unconscious choice to send them to gather the others while she saved Aareth.
Very easily, she could have chosen to go and warn Jack and the Ahab sisters, or Doctor Livingston and Commander Brookhaven.
Had she made the right choice? What if none of the others made it out at all? But she had made the only correct choice there was, hadn’t she? She was the only one who could have saved Aareth, right?
The cold air that should have chilled her lungs felt refreshing on her run. Fatigue was only a memory while the burning her muscles should have experienced was nonexistent. The pain in her arm where Aareth had bitten her was not only gone, but it also felt better than normal.
Sloan glanced down to see what had become of her wound. Just like the mortal knife she had taken to the ribs, her injury had healed. The exact science as to her new healing factor would have to wait to be explained, if it ever could be. Right now, Sloan had bigger problems to deal with.
Sloan and Aareth ran down a slight hill in the road. When they came to the other side, it was a straight shot to New Hope’s city gates. Sloan’s worst fears were realized. The sirens had given the soldiers enough warning to not only swing the gates shut, but to also form a firing line at the front.
No less than ten rifles were pointed in her direction.
A plan came to mind, a plan so insane, Sloan knew she was already changing from the Queen’s captain of the guard to some kind of rebel leader willing to take risks.
“Aareth, don’t kill them.” Sloan was surprised she was able to speak loud and clear, despite her lungs working overtime to support her speed. “You owe me one for saving you. Plus, I’ll bite you if you kill them. I need you to hold them off for a few seconds. I can get us through the gate.”
The nod from the massive wolf-creature that bounded next to her on all fours might have been Sloan’s imagination, but Aareth did look at her when she spoke.
There was no time left to plan. Sloan took a position in front of Aareth as the gunfire from the rifles exploded into the air. Whether the soldiers were terrified or Sloan was simply moving too fast, only two bullets found their mark—one in her left thigh, and the other in her right shoulder.
Sloan felt the pain, but it seemed to have even less of an effect than Aareth’s bite. Sloan ran the last few yards to the soldiers, who were half-terrified, half-concentrating on lowering their rifles to unsheathe their swords.
To Sloan, they moved in slow motion as she vaulted over their line. In her hand, her mage sword came to glowing red life as she swung the blade hilt deep into the massive wooden door that denied them escape.
Gritting her teeth, Sloan maneuvered her mage sword around in a huge circle. Slower than she would have liked, the heated metal ate through the wood, carving a path to freedom.
Sloan could hear Aareth more than she could see him as he barked and roared at the soldiers. Out of Sloan’s peripheral vision, she could see uniformed figures flying through the air, only to come crashing down yards from their previous spots.
Sweat formed on Sloan’s brow as she carved the blade through the wood. A dozen questions and doubts attacked her as her body strained against the task, but her mind was free to wander.
What was she becoming? Who would make it to Term in three days? She really should have been more specific in telling them exactly where to meet.
Sloan finished her rough circle that looked like a two-year-old had attempted to draw a sphere. With the same kick she used to dispatch Scar, Sloan slammed her foot into the makeshift door. It flew out the other side of the gate without pause.
“Aareth.” Sloan turned to see how her accomplice was faring. “We’re home fr?—”
The words died in her mouth. Soldiers who were stupid enough to stay to fight had been scattered around the scene like empty beer bottles at a party.
Aareth was sitting down, looking at her, a severed arm in his mouth, his tail wagging furiously.
One soldier moaned beside him, holding the fresh wound.
“Are you kidding me?” Sloan marched over to Aareth, taking the arm from his mouth with a scowl. “What happened to not permanently hurting them?”
Sloan moved to the groaning soldier. She took off his belt and wrapped it around the wound, then placed his arm beside him.
“Hang in there. I can already hear help on the way. They’ll be here in seconds. Your arm isn’t lost. Tell them to ice it and they’ll be able to reattach it. I’m sorry about Aareth; he’s still getting used to the whole wolf thing.”
The soldier’s face was pale from lack of blood, but he nodded along with Sloan’s explanation. “Thank you?”
Sloan nodded, getting back to her feet. She glared at Aareth, who lowered his head in shame.
“Come on.” Sloan jumped through the hole in New Hope’s gate. “We have an appointment in Term to make, and a war to plan.”