Hunted

Forty-Eight: Going Alone

The sharp, acrid smell of smoke and burning filled Charlotte's nostrils, turning her stomach, as she was dragged up to her feet. She felt strangely numb as she was turned around to face the person who had found her, unsure if she was about to face friend or foe. In any case she had only her bare hands to defend herself, which would do little against a hostile alteration.

"Charlotte, what the hell are you doing just sitting here?" James growled, stepping away from her slightly, trying to get a better look at her. "Are you okay?"

Charlotte could sense his concern as his eyes clouded. "Yeah, I'm fine," she nodded shyly, uncomfortable under his scrutinising gaze.

"Good – next time when I tell you to leave, leave," he said in a short tone releasing her and striding down the steps. "Is that understood?"

Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, disgusted by his tone, but thought better of it. She didn't have the strength to fight with him. Instead she hobbled down the stairs after him.

"I mean half the bloody school wants to kill you – and you have no alteration," he growled, more to himself.

"James – that's not my fault," she argued, trying to keep up with him.

"Yeah, well you shouldn't be making it so easy for them. You wouldn't have stood a chance against Lucio. You should have got out of there immediately, before he had even had the chance to..."

"James, just stop," Charlotte breathed. "I can't do this right now. Shout at me later – just not... now," she whispered breathlessly.

James paused, turning around to her and frowning. It seemed as if he was going to continue lecturing her, but he paused, noticing that she was in pain.

"Come here," he breathed, his voice suddenly softening, as he stepped towards her and wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her down the next couple of steps. "Look I'm not trying to give out to you – well I am, it's just... you're pretty infuriating Owens. I just don't want to see you get hurt".

"James, I'm not trying to get hurt on purpose," she breathed as they rounded the next flight of steps.

"I know that... but, you know I worry," he said in a tight voice, holding most of her weight for her.

Charlotte didn't respond. She didn't really know how to respond anymore.

"What happened with Lucio?" she asked after a few painful minutes of silence, hoping to distract herself from the proximity of their bodies, and his arm tight around her waist. She focused on each awkward step as they continued deeper and deeper into the New School, the din from the students below growing louder and louder.

James clenched his jaw, shifting her weight a little as he considered his answer. "I blocked the corridor. I don't think I killed him, but he's stuck in there for the moment... maybe I did kill him... I don't know," he breathed, heavily. Charlotte could sense his worry, the loosely concealed upset that was tormenting him.

"It was either you or him. It had to happen, James," she said in what she hoped was a comforting voice.

"I know – and if it meant keeping him from you, well then, I'd gladly do it again..." he sighed.

"But it doesn't make it any easier," she nodded, already understanding his thoughts. "Did he hurt you?"

"The smoke was nearly the worst. I think I made it out just in time, before it overwhelmed me," he said. "He caught me across the leg. Melted the trousers to my skin," he grunted, glancing down at his thigh.

Charlotte inhaled sharply as she took in the blistered and scarred gash across his thigh, half covered in the melted material of his trousers. "Does it hurt?" she frowned, trying to move away, fearful she was making it worse, but he held her close despite her efforts.