Twenty Four Shades Darker: The Hunt

(17) Face to Face

If Holly had been paying more attention, she'd have noticed how Barley kept toying with his knife, which so far had stayed jammed into his belt when not needed. She'd have noticed how his eyes had scanned them all continually when they had usually been fixed on the floor, and how he'd been sitting almost robotically straight-backed and how he hadn't slept at all. Even if she had been concentrating instead of being childlishly keen to get moving again and get to safety, she might have struggled to spot how Barley and Blaire had branched out opposite each other, or the occasional low rustle in the trees to her back, or Marisa's furrowed forehead.

So the first she knew of anything amiss was when Will came flying out of the woods and grabbed her arm.

Alarmed and annoyed by this break in character, she seized his wrist and tried to wrench it off, snapping, "Get off me. What's got into you?"

His hand tightened until it was painful and it was only then that she thought to look at his face. So far Will had just been another figure in the background and she'd hardly noticed when he was around. He didn't talk much. Mostly he'd tagged along behind Erik, offering to help, and the desire to please was so sickening to her that she'd never attempted to start a conversation with him and, thankfully, he'd never tried to talk to her. Still, she'd spent almost two weeks with him and she knew what he looked like and she knew by instinct that the face that she was looking at was too mean to be Will's. The hair was too clean and just a fraction too short, the cheeks too fleshy, the mouth held in a grim line that, for want of a better word, seemed like a smirk. The eyes were bright with violence.

She screamed.

Jute's head whipped around, suddenly full of attention, and she'd taken in the situation with one brisk look and set about trying to calm it down. When she spoke her voice was cracked and fragile, with the hope of being listened to rather than the expectation of it. "Will, let her go. She's not done anything."

And then Will stumbled out of the bushes...

And after that everything happened very quickly.

Marisa was gone. One second she'd been leaning against a tree doing whatever she did when she wasn't talking to Blaire and the next she wasn't. In her place was Erik. Except it couldn't be, because Erik was sat with Jute. Will gawped at them both. Her eyes followed his, and then spotted the glint of metal in the sleeve of the Will that was holding her arm. Instinct hammered at the thick, heavy dam of confusion and broke it. While everybody was stood around reeling, she grabbed the axe and jammed it as hard as she could into the not-Will's arm. He cried out and let go. She scrambled away and to her feet, making sure to hold the axe up in front of her and keeping her back towards the people she knew - or was at least fairly sure - were actually Erik and Jute. Her hair was falling in her eyes; she could make out greasy blonde streaks. No time to put them back. All her attention was fixed on the familiar faces, clean and shiny with health and purpose, that were emerging from the trees.

"They're...us." Erik sounded amazed. Jute just swore. There was the clicking sound of her frantically assembling the blow-gun.

Holly's vision darted around until she found what she was looking for; from close to where Marisa had disappeared, a tall and slim figure was lurking up in the branches. Blue eyes. Pointed features. Flawless skin, unmarked by age or experience, and a nasty expression that felt like an exaggeration of her own. Identical snarls curled across their mouths at the exact same moment.

"Back off, bitch. I have an axe and I'm not afraid to use it."

"I know." That voice! It was both hers and not hers at the same time. Her mind spun just listening to it.

She was so busy staring at herself that she didn't see Barley launching himself at her, hunting knife in hand, until pain burst down her side and she hit the floor. Grit dug into her cheeks. Something heavy was resting on her back. Through the eye that wasn't squished into the floor she saw Blaire lunge at Erik, who ducked under and rolled into her shins, sending her toppling backwards. A knife buried into her neck; she clutched at it and gasped for air as voices started shouting. There was a faint whistle as Jute fired off a dart.