Blood Moon (12 page)

“More traps?”

“Probably.”

“Want to find out?” I ask.

“Might as well,” he admits, shrugging.

Carefully, we traipse toward the outer ring of foliage. Ben and I study the forest beyond, curious as to what secrets it holds, what tricks it has up its sleeves. Searching nearby, I find the stick I previously used. Taking a few jabs at the ground, the entire contraption gives way, and the forest floor becomes one huge hole.

“Let me guess . . . the other side is the exact same, which means we can’t escape on either side—we can only go forward or backward,” I say, stating the obvious.

Grim-faced, Ben replies, “I’d say you’re correct about this one. I guess we go forward.”

One of the trees at the edge of the gap is leaning; its creaks and groans sound like a house during strong winds. Its roots splinter under pressure, and as it tumbles into the cavernous pit along the edge, the tripwire snaps.

“Oh, no,” I mumble.

Ben notices the same, a concerned-but-concentrated look on his face.

“What do we do?” I screech, just as the first set of axes
whoosh
by, cutting through the air. The breeze they leave behind gently tickles my cheeks—an ironic reminder that these things are weapons, and there’s nothing gentle about them.

“We have to pass through them.” Ben’s eyes dart from axe to axe, checking out the rhythm. They’re not in sync with each other; as one swings, the other rears back into the trees. We’ll have to time this just right.

But just as we’re about to run through, another tree snaps, and with it, yet another tripwire. While the tree crashes to the pit below, two more axes are released from their bonds. Now the momentum of the axes produces a
whoosh-whoosh
every time they pass each other. None of the four axes are synchronized. Not a single one. If Ben and I are going to attempt this, we’re going to need a miracle.

“Okay, listen,” Ben shouts over the blades ripping the air nearby. “We need to get past the first two, and then stop. I think there’s an opening in between the first and second sets.”

Nervously, I shriek, “But what if there isn’t an opening? What if they’re too close and we can’t run? Ben, I don’t want to be chopped in half!”

Placing his hands atop my shoulders, he gives me a firm squeeze.
Listen to me, baby. We have no choice. We can’t go back and run straight into the witches’ arms. We can’t go around, because we’ll fall into the pit. We can’t go back in time, because we’ll continually run into more problems and possibly change the future. I need you to stay with me and pay attention. Can you do that?

I bob my head in a half-assed attempt at agreement.

When I say go, grab my hand and run like hell
, Ben orders.
Ready?

My eyes expand as I watch the sharp blades swing across the expanse, only mere feet from where I stand. Should we make one small misstep, we’re done. Terminado. Finito. O-V-E-R.

This is a fucking suicide mission.

Candra, focus!

I yank myself away from bad thoughts and concentrate on the weapon maze of death. Damn it, I don’t want to die in the sixteenth century.
I’m not going to die
, I chant to myself.

That’s my girl
, Ben encourages, with his award-winning smile.
In three . . . two . . . one . . . NOW!

We bolt just as one axe swings upward, the other on its way down. Ben was right: there’s a brief clearing in between the next set. I clutch his hand so tightly his fingers are white from loss of circulation. Pausing for only a few moments, we wait until the next axe zings through the space ahead before moving again. The other axe descends, the breeze it produces lightly nipping my backside. I scream, but I’m quick to silence myself, in case the witches are within hearing range. As soon as we’re free, Ben wraps his arms around me, resting his head atop mine. My body won’t stop trembling.

“We made it, baby,” he soothes. “We’re going to be out of here soon.”

The words no more exit his mouth than a loud
crrraaaccck
reverberates from our left. Even without glimpsing in that direction, I know another tree has fallen into the dark, shadowy abyss below. A flimsy
clunk
indicates I’m correct—the next tripwire has snapped.

“Shit,” Ben mumbles. Shaking his head, he says, “One more time, Princess.”

He and I run through the axes, which actually are in sync with each other, making the task of passing through them more difficult; while they both swing left or right, they cover an expansive amount of space. We’ll have to run either farther to the left or farther to the right, if we want to make it through. We choose left.

Almost immediately, the last tree breaks off at the roots; it groans loudly, until it collapses into the pit. Ben decides not to stop, believing we can make it before the final set of axes swoop down from the branches and ties holding them in place.

“Ben, we’re not going to make it!” My eyes skimming up toward the trees, I notice the momentum of the axes is faster than either of us anticipated. They’re also farther out than the other three sets, which will be an issue, since we’re going for it. “Ben,
run
!”

Kicking his legs into warp speed, he practically drags me along with him. The edge of the forest is just ahead, if we can manage to get there in time. In my peripheral vision, I see the axe to my right descending at an alarming rate of speed. If my swift calculations are accurate, Ben and I will meet the axe at the same location, at the same time. This obviously isn’t good.

“Faster, Candra!” Ben bellows.

My legs ache from pushing them to their limit, but if I want to live, I have to get past that exact spot before the axe does. This is like watching a car accident happen in slow motion—there’s nothing I can do to stop it, and the seconds seem to tick by in sluggish increments. Down, down, down descends the axe. Coming straight at me. My mind is one big pile of mush as I try to block out the insane possibility I might not be alive in five seconds.

Five. “Almost there, Candra! Stay with me!” Ben yells over the steady
whoosh-whooshes
occurring behind us.

Four. I squeeze the shit out of Ben’s hand, and he does the same with mine.

Three. Less than twenty feet to go.

Two. The axe is so close that I inadvertently bite my tongue and taste blood.

One. I scream when Ben attempts to yank me out of the way at the last minute, but the axe descends too quickly and catches the back of my skirt, carrying me with it. My fingers slip out of his grasp, and he frantically chases after me. With the axe swinging upward into the trees, my face snags on several branches. I cry out, but I’m silenced by the tree’s limbs slicing my lips. Cold air stings my open cuts, and liquid warmth seeps from the wounds. As I descend with the axe, Ben eagerly waits, his hands deftly snatching me when I pass through again. We tumble to the ground. My face feels like it’s on fire. I don’t know how badly I’m bleeding, but if Ben’s features are any indication, I look like someone who went to a knife fight and lost.

“Oh, baby, baby, baby,” he coos, rocking me in his arms.

I lick my lips, and they taste coppery. “How bad is it?”

“Don’t worry. We’re going to get back to Fiona’s, and you’ll heal.” He wants to kiss me—he’s visualizing it in his mind—but when I see my face through his eyes, I realize then how horrible I appear. There is no area for his lips to land; it’s all one big, bloody mess. “Can you stand?”

I lightly nod. “My legs are fine, even if they’re a bit wobbly at the moment.”

Ben helps me to my feet, and we traverse through the woods once again. I hope the axes were the last of the traps the witches set in place. If not, I don’t know how much more Ben and I can handle. More importantly, why do the witches need so many deadly traps? What are they hiding?

After clearing more ground, we decide to rest. We’ll have to go up and around if we want to completely avoid the chasms on either side. Hopefully from there, we can find our way back to town . . . and Fiona’s house.

I swipe blood off my face and wipe my hands on my skirt. My scrapes feel like a thousand bees are attacking them. I cringe, and the act only makes my cuts hurt worse.

“We need to keep moving,” Ben says. “I’m sure the witches know how to get around their own traps, so it wouldn’t take them long at all to catch up to us. We have to be out of here before they arrive.”

“I agree.” It hurts to budge my lips, even a little bit.

The trek through the wooded expanse seems never-ending. Trees, shrubbery, dead leaves, twigs—all of them look the same. I’m not sure where we’re at exactly. With the sun gradually disappearing beyond the mountains on the horizon, we don’t have much time to find a way out. Once nighttime plummets and the sky is nothing but a blanket of glittering stars, the forest will become a maze—a dangerous labyrinth in which we have to find the exit before the witches find us.

We break through a row of trees and enter a clearing. The heavens are shades of rich crimson and orange. A cool breeze swirls around us, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“We can’t stop,” Ben states, determined.

Cobblestones fill every inch of this open stretch, and a gazebo-like structure is situated along the backside of the area, with two benches resting underneath its covering. In the center, a cherub statue points a stony finger at us; its other hand looks like it’s gesturing toward the pergola. There’s something
odd
about this place. Why does anyone have so many death traps prior to a site as peaceful as this? Who builds something so intricate in a secret corner of the woods? I feel as if there’s more to this than meets the eye.

I ask, “What now?”

Ben shrugs. “I honestly don’t know, but would you take a look at this place.” He takes a few steps forward, mesmerized by the beauty of this unforeseen setting. Turning around to face me, he smiles. “When we get back to Hartford, we should build—” His body goes rigid, and then he grapples at his neck frantically.

“Ben?”

“Candra, don’t move,” he wheezes.

Terrified, I cry out, “What’s going on? What is it?”

Ben hoarsely murmurs, “Poison,” as he wrenches a few miniature arrows from his skin, and then crumples to the ground.

Chapter Ten

“Ben? Ben!” I scream. I don’t care if the world hears me right now; he’s in serious danger. I have no idea how quickly the poison will invade his system. His only chance of survival is by tapping into his werewolf side, allowing rapid healing to seize control.

Why did we believe we were finally clear of the traps?
Of course
this secret hideout is too good to be true. Nothing has been easy for us since we arrived.

My mind hurls itself into overdrive. I have to think this through, and fast. Although I didn’t actually see where the mini arrows came from, Ben must’ve stepped on a hidden trigger, which caused them to catapult toward his neck. Now, I just have to figure out how the hell I’m going to drag him off the cobblestones to safety. Should I misstep, I’ll be in his position, then we’ll both be screwed.

Keeping my body lowered, I reach out and grab Ben’s wrists, dragging him toward me. My face hurts so much, and my muscles are sore from the intense workout we’ve gotten by dodging the death traps, that I honestly don’t know how I’ll get Ben from here to Fiona’s.

As I tug Ben’s limp body, a loud, grating noise reverberates through the small area. Oh, God. I really hope I haven’t set off another trap. That’s all I need. To my surprise, however, the cherub statue glides sideways, stone grinding against stone. A blinding-azure light emanates from the hole. My stupid curiosity is getting the best of me, but I have to stay calm and help Ben.

With one final heave, Ben’s body is completely off the cobblestones, just on the edge of the forest. We’ll have to go around this secret location, as well as the pit near the axes, if we have any chance of making it back to Colchester alive. Glancing toward the statue, I realize I can’t just leave it wide open for anyone to stumble upon, and I can’t let the witches know that I’ve figured out one of their little secrets. Scouring the stony path, I notice one of the cobbles is elevated higher than the others. Careful not to touch any of the other stones, I extend a hand and press it back into place. The statue reverts to its original position. I’ll have to remember which stone triggers the hidden passageway, in case Ben and I decide to return.

First, I need to focus on getting the poison out of his body. I can’t say if he’ll make it or not, but our bodies have the ability to heal faster than normal humans. If I can just drag him somewhere safe, I can leech the toxins by eliciting his inner werewolf. Waking him should be the hardest part; whatever is in this poison has knocked him out cold.

“Stay with me, Ben,” I whisper, as I latch on to his wrists and prepare to drag him back to town.

Night has long since fallen over England by the time I reach the outskirts. I can’t say how long I’ve been pulling Ben’s lifeless body, but my best guess is a good one or two hours. One thing’s for certain: I’ve made it this far, so I can damn well make it the rest of the way.

During the time spent in the forest, I had to kick Ben a few times, hard enough to activate his werewolf abilities. He didn’t turn full-werewolf due to the fact that he’s not conscious, but it was adequate to allow the healing power to win control. I estimate most of the poison has been removed from his system by now, and he’s just experiencing a drowsy side effect. This I can manage at Fiona’s house.

I avoid lugging Ben’s motionless body through the heart of Colchester, because I don’t want to encourage fear in the citizens should anyone be out this late. Instead, I do my best to bypass the town and reach Fiona’s without dilemma.

“Candra, where have . . .” Fiona’s voice trails off as soon as she sees my face and Ben. “Oh, my! What happened? Who did this to ye?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” I say, “but remember how you told us to stay away from the forest? Yeah, we didn’t listen. He should be all right. He’s just been . . . knocked out.”