Free Torn by Julie Kenner Page A

one deep groan, I shoved up, ordering Rose to scoot backward as I did.
    She didn’t hesitate, and soon she was clear of the bike, the smell of burning denim and flesh wafting in the air as she moved.
    “Lily! Hurry!”
    In my peripheral vision, I could see her climbing to her feet, looking at something back the way we’d come.
    I didn’t need to turn to know what it was—the warrior demon was coming closer.
    I drew in another breath and shoved again—hard—lifting the bike enough to free my own legs. I dragged myself back over the rough surface of the street, gravel cutting into my hands, my head twisting only once to gauge my enemy’s approach.
    Immediately, I wished I hadn’t.
    That sucker moved fast, and I grabbed Rose’s hand, yanking her to her feet with me. “Run!”
    She didn’t hesitate, didn’t argue, but she was limping, her burned leg slowing her down, and the demon was coming. Closer, closer . . . >
    “Go, Lily! Just go!”
    “Are you out of your mind? I’m not leaving you.”
    “He’ll come out,” she said, and I knew she was referring to Johnson. “He’ll come, and he’ll fight. I’ll be okay,” she added, but from the pure terror on her face, I knew she didn’t believe it.
    Me either. In no form or fashion did I consider Johnson popping up inside her to save the day a good thing. No way, no how.
    I yanked hard on her hand and pulled her behind me. I didn’t want to do this—didn’t want to fight with Rose right there—but he was coming too fast.
    Time to make a stand.
    I closed my hand around the hilt of my blade and pulled it from its sheath. Behind me, Rose was saying, “No, no, no,” over and over again.
    “ You run,” I said. “I’ll be okay.” I steeled myself, holding my knife at the ready. “This is what they made me for.” And, dammit, I hoped that was true. Because this demon was more fierce, more bold, more everything than any I’d faced before.
    “No,” she said. “I’m not—”
    “Dammit, Rose, run !” She gawked at me, nodded, then scampered down the street, favoring her injured leg. I only watched for a second, then turned back to the warrior, now about three houses away. It had slowed its pace and was watching me, head tilted to one side as it took my measure.
    “Come on, you son of a bitch,” I murmured. “Let’s get this over with.”
    And then, as if it had been waiting for the invitation, the demon rushed me, his strides eating up the pavement, moving so fast, I swear he was only a blur. I heard a sharp screech and smelled burning rubber, and as I thrust my knife forward, trying to find a damn target and fearing that I was about to be soundly and utterly destroyed, I had the absurd thought that the demon was moving so fast he was burning up the soles of his shoes, and that was the pungent odor that had caught my attention.
    “Get in!”
    Not his shoes, I realized. A car. It had careened to a stop behind me, and now the female driver was shouting at me through the open passenger-side window. I didn’t hesitate, instead turning fast on my heel and diving headfirst through the open window, pushing a pile of weapons across the bench seat even as the demon reached out and grabbed my foot.
    I kicked hard, then yanked my legs into the car. And into safety.
    The girl hit the gas, and as I righted myself in the car, I saw the demon in the side mirror. He was standing there, his face a mask of fury and frustration beneath the blue and black tattoos.
    “Rose!” I said, pointing to the side of the road, and my sister, now hobbling toward us. I thrust my leg over to the driver’s side of the car, and slammed on the brake.
    “Are you crazy?” the girl shouted as Rose yanked open the back door. The driver kicked my leg away and accelerated, but the pause had been enough—Rose was in the car, the door hanging open, but inside and safe.
    I climbed over the seat and into the back, hanging half out of the speeding car as I grabbed for the door and slammed