Hunted

Thirty-Five: Running Out of Time

The light came in waves, warding away the darkness for a brief moment. The light was soft, revealing an unfocused world, bit by bit, to James.

Awareness of his own body seemed to come back to him first. His breathing was ragged, his racing heart echoing in his ears. He could hear the blood being forced around his body, his muscles and joints burning with a hot, searing pain.

Another wave of light washed over him, revealing a peculiar view. The ground lay beneath him, small and insignificant, too far away to seem real. The aching pain in his arms and back seemed to increase as he peered down, slowly realising that he was dangling over the pitch, which stretched out far beneath him. He shook his head trying to figure out what was going on, but the light passed and darkness ensued once more.

When the brightness returned it remained, blinding and fierce, but as James' eyes adjusted, he realised he was clinging to the edge of the platform in the arena, though it seemed dizzyingly higher than usual. The pain continued to worsen in his arms, the cold metal of the platform biting into his fingers as he tried to cling on.

He tried to summon his alteration to aid his final ascent, to ensure his safety, but the environment would not respond to his orders, the world failing to bend to his will. James growled, his grip lessening ever so slightly.

With a fearsome burst of strength, he fought the pull of gravity, dragging himself up onto the platform. He hastily shuffled away from the edge, pain flaring all over his body. His fingers were trembling, his breath uneven, and yet somehow he managed to force himself to his feet, gazing across the arena, his stomach twisting with fear.

The stands were full of students all standing still, staring at him in a deathly silence. Nobody cheered, nobody yelled, nobody clapped, nobody spoke. There was only silence and cold stares.

Suddenly, the giant screens flickered to life, the headmaster's face swimming into focus, his cold eyes fixed on James.

James opened his mouth, as if to speak, but he hesitated as Elmhirst's cold expression changed, the corners of his giant mouth twisting into a manic and satisfied smile. James froze, knowing only one thing could possibly make him smile like that, only seeing one person again could possibly make him so terribly delighted.

James turned around, realising that they weren't watching him at all, but instead their gaze was drawn to what lay behind him. Bound to a huge pyre, her head dangling forward was Charlotte. Her brown hair tumbled over her shoulders and her skin seemed too pale beneath it. Lucio Anderson was leaning against the pyre, casually clicking his fingers and sending showers of threatening sparks across the dried wood.

"What the hell are you doing?" James yelled, rushing forward despite the pain that shuddered through his body with each footfall. Lucio glanced at him and grinned, but didn't say anything just continued creating sparks with his fingers, teasing the wood.

James desperately tried to tear the pyre apart with his alteration, but it still wouldn't do as it was bid. Instead he threw himself at it, grasping the wood and heaving himself up to Charlotte's limp body. He could hear Elmhirst laughing loudly, his delighted laugh echoing around the stadium.

"Charlotte?" James called. "Charlotte!" His body ached with each movement, his muscles trembling as he tried to reach her. Splinters dug into his palms, leaving a trail of blood along the broken wood. James glanced back at Lucio, half-fearing he was going to set the pyre alight, but he was still lounging to one-side, playing distractedly with his alteration.

James clambered up the structure, to where Charlotte was fixed to a wooden frame, her arms and legs bound.

He caught her face in his bloodied hands, lifting it up so he could see her features. Her skin was warm to touch, her breath steady, her eyelids flickering gently as if she was about to wake.