Chapter 233: Chapter 233 - Magic?
The hunter clicked inches from her face.
Wet, rapid pulses slapped against her skin, mapping every pore, every trembling muscle, every frantic heartbeat. Its breath smelled of rot and copper. She held her breathe.
Is it the end?
A gunshot cracked in the distance.
The hunter whipped its head into the direction.
Malcolm. Was he in danger? Had he come back for them?
The creature’s head tilted. The small, human ear on the side of its pale skull twitched like a dog catching a new sound. Another gunshot echoed.
It screeched, a piercing, furious sound, and spun away from her. It bolted down the hallway on all fours, claws tearing across the floor. At the end of the corridor it slammed into the window, cracking the glass. It wrenched the frame open and leaned out, clicking rapidly as it scanned the outside world.
A third gunshot rang out.
The hunter shrieked once more, then launched itself through the broken window and vanished out.
Iyisha’s legs gave out. She slid down the rail and collapsed onto the landing, chest heaving.
For a long moment she could only breathe. Then she forced herself up and staggered back into the room.
Marybeth was on her knees beside Lance, pressing a folded towel to his mouth. Lance lay still now, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. He had stopped seizing.
They were alive.
Iyisha slid down the doorframe until she sat on the floor. The adrenaline drained from her body all at once, leaving her hands shaking and her vision blurry.
"They are safe for now," she whispered.
Marybeth looked up, eyes wide with fear. "Are those gunshots?"
Iyisha nodded slowly.
"Malcolm," she said, voice hoarse. "Malcolm is in danger."
"Lance too." Marybeth said as she checked on him. "He’s got a fever."
Iyisha crawled over on her knees, still gasping. "How high?"
"Too high," Marybeth whispered, voice cracking. "He’s burning up."
Iyisha pressed the back of her hand to Lance’s forehead. His skin felt like fire. She moved her fingers to his neck. The pulse was rapid and thready.
"Get his shirt off," she ordered, already moving. She scrambled to the basin in the corner, soaked a towel in the remaining water, then grabbed the bottle of isopropyl alcohol. "Now. Everything off the chest."
Marybeth yanked Lance’s shirt over his head. His body was slick with sweat yet shivering at the same time.
Iyisha poured a steady stream of alcohol across his chest and abdomen. The sharp smell filled the room as it evaporated instantly on his overheated skin. She took the wet towel and began rubbing him down in long, firm strokes, focusing on the major arteries in his neck, armpits, and groin to bring the core temperature down faster.
"His lips are turning blue," Marybeth choked out.
Iyisha leaned in. Lance’s lips had a dusky tint. His breathing was shallow and fast. "He’s going into shock. Temperature’s spiking and his body is crashing."
She tilted his head back slightly, checking his airway, then lifted his legs onto a folded blanket to improve circulation. "Keep the towel moving. Don’t stop. We need to get him cooled but not too fast."
Iyisha poured more alcohol across his torso and rubbed it in with both hands, feeling the heat radiate off him in waves. His skin was mottled now, pale in places, flushed red in others.
"Come on, Lance," she muttered under her breath, voice steady even as fear clawed at her. "Stay with us. You’re not dying on my watch."
She checked his pulse again. Still too fast. Still too weak.
"Marybeth, keep talking to him. And keep wiping his neck and chest. We have to bring this fever down before his organs start shutting down."
Iyisha kept rubbing the alcohol-soaked towel across Lance’s chest in steady, urgent strokes. His skin was still far too hot, radiating heat like a furnace. She poured another thin stream of alcohol over his torso, watching it evaporate almost instantly.
"Keep pressure on the arteries," she told Marybeth. "Neck, armpits, groin. We have to drop the core temperature now."
Marybeth nodded, tears streaming down her face as she worked. "Come on, you bastard," she whispered fiercely, voice breaking. "It’s not your time to die. You hear me, Lance? Fight, damn you. We did not come this far for you to quit now."
Lance’s breathing stayed shallow and ragged. His lips were still tinged blue. Iyisha checked his pulse again. Weak. Too fast. The cancer was still lurking in his blood — the stem cells had repaired the lungs, but whatever drug he had taken in the lab had sent his body into freefall.
The door creaked open.
Aljun slipped inside, breathing hard, shotgun gripped tight. His eyes widened at the sight of Lance on the floor.
"Fever spiked hard," Iyisha said without stopping her hands. "He seized earlier. Grab more towels and soak them. Help me cool him."
"The hunter’s gone?"
Iyisha nodded. "It followed the gunshot."
Aljun dropped beside them and took over Lance’s arms, wiping firmly.
Marybeth kept talking to Lance, her voice raw. "You stupid, stubborn asshole. Don’t you dare leave us now. Come on, Lance. Breathe. Just keep breathing. Malcolm’s gonna kill us, you asshole."
Iyisha kept working, her hands moving with desperate precision. Minutes passed. Then she felt it — the heat bleeding away from Lance’s skin. She pressed two fingers to his neck. The pulse was still fast but stronger. She leaned closer. The blue tint was fading from his lips, slowly returning to a pale pink.
"He’s coming down," she said quietly. Relief washed through her for half a second.
But it was not enough to keep her there.
She sat back on her heels and looked at both of them. Marybeth’s tear-streaked face and Aljun’s exhausted eyes. Her voice came out flat and certain.
"We need to go to Malcolm."
Aljun stared at her. "That’s crazy."
Marybeth bit her lip hard. "Iyisha..."
"Those gunshots were loud," Iyisha said, already rising to her feet. "They carried. Every block in this radius heard them. That means we just rang the dinner bell for every undead thing still walking out there. A horde is probably already moving toward him."
Aljun cursed under his breath and dragged a hand down his face. "Shit. And he would only fire like that if he had no choice. Must have been another hunter."
Iyisha nodded. "Exactly. Even if he killed it, the one that was here might already be heading straight for him. Or more of them."
Marybeth looked down at Lance, then back up, voice trembling. "But it is suicide to go out there right now. We barely got this one off us. If a horde is coming—"
"I know how dangerous it is," Iyisha cut in. Her chest felt tight, almost painful. She could not explain it, but the feeling sat heavy in her bones. Malcolm was in trouble. She knew it the same way she knew how to read a failing pulse or a crashing fever. "I know we could die. But I cannot stay here."
She looked at Lance’s still form, then back at them.
"You two stay with him. Keep him cool if the fever spikes again. I will move fast and quiet. I have to see him alive."
Aljun met her eyes. "I will come."
Iyisha nodded, turned to Marybeth. "We will leave you with Lance."
Marybeth cursed under her breath. "Shit shit shit." She looked up at Iyisha, eyes wide. "Are you planning to use your powers? Magic?"
"I do not think it is magic," Iyisha said. "I think I am sending something out... signals."
Marybeth blinked. "That doesn’t help."
Iyisha exhaled slowly. "The hunters use sound. Clicks. Vibrations. They map everything around them."
She pressed a hand lightly against her chest.
"I think my body is interfering with that. Like noise. Like... something they cannot read properly."
Aljun frowned, then nodded slowly. "So you are messing with their tracking."
"Yes," Iyisha said. "They cannot place us correctly. It confuses them."
Marybeth shook her head. "You make it sound simple."
Iyisha didn’t answer right away.
Because it wasn’t.
Iyisha nodded. "Let us go," she said, looking at Aljun.
"Wait," Marybeth said. She gripped Aljun’s arm tightly. "Aljun, do not leave Iyisha’s side. You know what happens when she does that."
He nodded. "Yeah. I am about to see some crazy shit again." He glanced at Iyisha. "Sending signals, huh?"
Iyisha nodded. She could feel it already building inside her chest, a low hum just beneath her ribs. It felt almost exactly like the clicks of the hunter — the same invasive pressure in the air.
"I think my nervous system is producing a low-frequency bioacoustic pulse," she explained. "Like an infrasonic wave or an electromagnetic field generated by my own cells."
Aljun let out a short breath. "So it is like jamming their sonar. You basically become walking radio interference. Makes sense why they get confused and turn away from us..."
Iyisha gave him a quick nod. "Exactly." Iyisha stood up, heart already racing toward the danger outside. "Let’s go."
