The Onyx Vial (Shadows of The Nine Book 1) by Alexis Lampley Page B

her in a thick wave, settling on her with the weight of a horse. The portal book drifted down like a leaf, landing lightly on her stomach.
    She stared, still and unblinking, at the dull blue heat-hazed sky.
    You’re alright. Breathe. Calm down.
    But a dam in her chest imploded. Her eyes filled with tears. She moaned, though her lungs held no fuel to breathe, and hugged herself tightly. Her body shuddered as it released a heaving sob.
    She could still feel their hands on her, as if they’d burned their prints into her skin. Her ankles throbbed. Bruises would come. She closed her eyes, but all she saw were their faces. The memory engulfed her, refused to leave her. She cried out, taking painful breaths between racking sobs.
    But each sob dragged the poison of the memory out of her. Eventually, she took bigger, deeper, slower breaths. And after a while, the tears subsided.
    Lying on the hard-packed ground, squinting through puffy lids and the glaring refraction of light off sand, she examined the arid, unchanging expanse of nothingness surrounding her. Heat swarmed on the horizon like oil on glass. It bit at her eyelashes, sucking greedily at the lingering moisture.
    But there was nothing and no one around. She was alone. In a vast, dry ocean of emptiness.
    "I'm not alright."

Chapter 8
     
    Hunter stood behind a small, sandblasted house at the edge of an idle town, waiting. The pointed edges of a bloodstained necklace dug into his palm. He squeezed it tight in his fist.
    A stocky man, hardly older than himself, trudged toward him, shoulders bearing the weight of four large buckets hanging from a pole. The man’s hair was bright, bleached by the sun, his eyes an uncommon blue.
    The man stumbled when he caught sight of Hunter. Some of the precious liquid sloshed onto the hard, dry ground, darkening the reddish clay before evaporating into the endless sky.
    The man’s eyes grew wide, flicked about in search of escape.
    Hunter couldn’t let that happen. He worked up the words best suited to gain the man’s trust, knowing that the clothes he wore stained his words long before he spoke them.
    Nonetheless, he slipped the chain over his head, let the bloody pendant nestle against his chest, and strode forward, his hands in view—palms down. When they were face to face, he grabbed the pole with both hands. The man flinched as Hunter lifted and removed it, a task that shouldn’t have taken so much effort. But he was weak with hunger. He swung the pole carefully around and placed it on his own shoulders.
    The man stared at him, surprised.
    “I need water,” he said, his voice rough from lack of moisture. “And a place to rest.” He shifted the pole for better balance.
    The man opened his mouth, shut it, blinked, frowned, then started toward the stables behind the house. He led Hunter inside and jumped back at the sight of the winged horse in the low hanging loft.
    “Her, too,” Hunter grunted, squatting to set the pole down.
    The man set the buckets out, rousing his horses, then headed outside. Hunter followed.
    Once again beneath the blazing sun, the man faced Hunter, studying him, blue eyes glinting. “Why have you come? There is nothing here for you.”
    “I need to stay out of sight,” Hunter croaked. “I need help.”
    At this, the man’s façade of bravery faltered. “I—I cannot aid you.”
    “What?” Hunter snapped.
    “If you are hiding, you will be found. I will be killed. You must go.”
    Hunter shook his head. “No.”
    “You must.”
    Hunter moved in close, eyes level with the man, and lowered his voice. “If you refuse to aid me, I will kill you myself."
    There was the barest hint of fear in the man's face as he laughed and said, "Not in the state you are in."
    "I am my father's child."
    This made the man pause.
    Hunter sighed. "Help me. Please. If you don't, they will find me here and kill you anyway. At least if you help me you have a chance.”
    The man’s eyes widened. A grim expression filled