Page 12

Vladimir produced a deck of cards and hurled them toward the monks on the sidelines. The cards had no Meridian powers, but the monks didn’t know that. They drove the monks several steps back, buying Vladimir and Lucienne extra time.

Turning on their heels, Vladimir and Lucienne broke into a dead run toward the chasm, accelerating at the midpoint of the runway.

“Stop! You won’t make it,” the Lama shouted.

Vladimir reached the chasm first. Without hesitation, he lifted his legs in the air, his muscles tensing.

Lucienne watched him leap across the chasm like a graceful panther as she ran after him. His feet hit the ground on the other side, leaving the edge of the abyss a few inches behind him. Lucienne smiled as pride swelled in her chest. Vladimir spun around and tossed the end of the bat hook toward her with a grin. It was a perfect timing.

Lucienne leapt high in the air, her fingers reaching for the end of the rope. One more inch, and she’d have it, and she’d run off into the sunset with Vladimir. But her fingers slipped and the rope dropped.

CHAPTER THREE

“No!” Prince Vladimir screamed her name.

A lightning stab of pain seared her torso, shooting up to her skull. The pain deadened her strength for a second, and the second had cost her. The rope bounced back toward Vladimir.

A burning sensation exploded inside her. The impact propelled her toward the sharp wall on the other side. Lucienne twisted to avoid crashing onto the rocks. There was now no possibility of grabbing a crevice to stop her fall.

The last thing she remembered seeing was a kaleidoscope of horror, disbelief, and pain on Vladimir’s face. She had never seen him so helpless. She opened her mouth to tell him something, but she had already forgotten what it was.

She fought to go up, her hands flying skyward. Then she realized it was a lost cause—death, gravity, and time favored no one. She plunged toward the deep cave beneath.

Vladimir’s furious cry tore through her hazy mind. There was a snap in her shoulder. More pain shot through her. Out of nowhere, a hand caught her wrist. Lucienne tilted her head, looking up in disbelief—Vladimir’s face suspended above hers. He had dove after her.

“Gotcha!” He choked in a sob.

But she kept plummeting. “Who’s got you?” she asked, seeing the triangle hook in his other hand. In a blur, the hook sailed up and attached itself to the ground above.

It all happened in a flash. She was falling, and then she was safe. He gambled his life for hers, and it turned a miracle.

“Lucia, darling.” Vladimir laughed.

Lucienne smiled back. “You’re quite impressed with yourself.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” he asked.

“What now?”

Vladimir was strong, but even he couldn’t climb up with one hand while carrying the weight of two. If she wasn’t wounded so badly, she could climb. She cursed herself for choosing this bat hook instead of an automatic one.

“Can you climb first?” Vladimir asked.

Agony expanded in every fiber of her being, and every breath hurt like hell, but Lucienne raised her free hand to reach Vladimir’s arm. When her hand stretched a few inches overhead, the pain ruptured inside her. She couldn’t help but scream.

She heard Vladimir call her name. Pain filled his panicked voice.

A hot stream gushed out of her wound, and her back felt cold, wet, and scorching, all at once. Her thick robe stuck to her skin. If she continued to climb at this rate, she’d bleed to death before she got to the top, if she didn’t pass out.

She dropped her hand in defeat. “I’m sorry. I . . . I can’t.”

“How badly are you wounded?” Vladimir asked.

“A bullet hit my chest.”

“I can’t believe the monks were using guns on us,” Vladimir cursed profusely, and then an agonized realization sunk into his voice. “Oh God! You’re bleeding to—” He couldn’t utter the word ‘death.’

Lucienne struggled to pull the scroll from inside her robe and lift it toward Vladimir’s hand. “Listen, Vlad, there’s no hope for me. We both know that. Now be a good sport. Take this and let me go.”