The Survivors: Book One

They were lined up across the bare, muddy courtyard in front of her building, cutting off any path of escape. They watched her openly this time, hunger in their eyes. They were still and quiet too, another bad sign, and she saw the outline of bulletproof vests under thick layers of clothing. Her heart skipped a beat. They had come prepared.

"Or, so they think," the Demon inside comforted. "Hold your ground."

"He's close. I have to go."

Warren shook his head. His beaten-up face and slumped shoulders told her that the chain of command at the College had likely changed, making this a more dangerous confrontation. Talking her way out suddenly seemed very unlikely as she looked into his feverish, zealot's eyes.

"If you move the car, they'll open fire. Get out."

Angela slowly slid to her feet, eyes going over the six men spread out behind Aaron, each with a firearm aimed at not the Blazer, but her.

She looked at Warren with a baiting brow raised, seeing he still had the bible under his arm. "No longer under your protection, Preacher?"

Warren shook his head, eyes bitter, discolored. "No one is."

It was confirmation and yet none of the others stepped up to do the speaking, to take control. When Warren closed the door and turned to face her, she noticed they stayed well back, even Aaron, who she thought was probably the only one she really had to worry about shooting her. The others wanted her alive. Aaron wanted her dead for humiliating him.

"Let me go. I don't want to hurt anyone."

There were nervous looks exchanged between the half dozen would-be captors, instead of the scorn she had been hoping for, and it told her that they had probably already discussed the possibilities of getting hurt and were determined to follow through.

Her anger and anxious heart flared to life. She would have to fight her way out then. Angela slipped back to let the Witch have a little more control. She had to fight - she didn't have to kill. "And we won't!"

Her reminder to the Witch seemed to be a cue for the scruffy males, and they moved toward her together, eyes grim, faces leery.

The Witch whispered the words and Angela muttered, hands casting them out: "Poison! Blindness! Disease!"

Their reaction was instant.

"I can't see...I can't see!"

"Skin's on fire! Someone put me out!"

"Help me, Mac!"

It was awful, powerful magic that had them tripping, landing hard on the cold, dirty ground, but Warren wasn't fooled by the vivid bluff. He put a hand out to grab her, but jerked back as lightning flew into a tree in the courtyard next to them, shaking the ground.