Free Silverthorn by Sydney Bristow

my eye, I saw Darius place both hands against his kneecap and shove it back into place. He grinned at me with cheeks that had already half-healed, the cracked skin now ashen instead of pure black.
    Depending on how quickly he healed, I might not even have a chance to get to the sword in time.
    “Please don’t rush on my account,” Darius called out to me with a hint of joy in his voice. “I’ll attend to you momentarily.”
    I ignored his arrogance and arrived at the trunk of my car. I yanked my key ring from my front pocket, found my car key starter and pressed the button that unlocked the trunk. It popped open. I glanced back at Darius.
    Fifty feet away, he stood up. He let out a heavy sigh and smiled. “I hope you intend on handing over the Soul Sword.” He took a step forward, but his left kneecap buckled, preventing him from advancing toward me. His smile grew as he set his foot into the ground and rotated his knee.
    It seemed that either he hadn’t re-set his knee as he’d thought or he’d actually done so, but it hadn’t completely healed yet.
    “Please, no need to worry,” Darius said. “But I do appreciate your concern.”
    Assuming he had full-range of motion in his damaged knee within the next few seconds, how long would it take him to close the distance between us? I pushed aside the blanket covering my acoustic guitar case (since our band spent all day yesterday rehearsing, I hadn’t any time to buy a sheath for it), and tried to unsnap the lock on the case, but I applied too much pressure. The knob cracked off, leaving me staring at the locked case. I risked a glance back at Darius.
    He tested his knee, bending it in every direction. His smile indicated that it had completely recovered from the damage I’d caused.
    I had two choices. Either I could jump in the car and speed away, or I could try to bust open the case…and hope that I opened it before he attacked me from behind, since my peripheral vision didn’t allow me the opportunity to work on the case while checking on Darius.
    Fight or flight. I didn’t have time to think over the conundrum. So I slammed the trunk shut, ran over to the driver’s side door, whipped it open, hopped inside, and started the car.
    Just as the engine turned, Darius had reached the driver’s side door. He reached through the open window and grabbed my neck.
    I stomped on the accelerator. I’d hoped that the jolt in speed would have startled Darius and loosened his grasp around my neck. That hadn’t happened. In fact, his forearm slammed against the side of the window, jerking my neck in that direction. Thankfully, the force pushed my head backwards as well, so Darius’s grasp didn’t separate my neck from my head. However, it did press it against the headrest, and the strain between the pressure Darius applied and the speed with which I’d forced my car made my head bob in every direction.
    I kept my eyes on the road, while barely catching sight of Darius; he ran alongside my vehicle with surprising speed, although he struggled to keep up. Since I didn’t have time to concentrate on calling upon another fistful of fire, I considered grabbing the lighter underneath the navigational system, but it would take time to burn bright, and if I didn’t heat up immediately. Darius might tear off my head. No other possibilities presented themselves, so I followed the logical path: I hit the window lever.
    The window rose. But after a couple inches, Darius pressed his forearm down, preventing the window from continuing its ascent. So I slammed on the gas. My neck craned to the left, as Darius applied more pressure, but his face opposite me slid further back, as it became obvious that he couldn’t keep up with my car. I glanced at the speedometer: I’d just hit 40 mph!
    Through the windshield, I saw that traveling twenty more yards would result in driving into someone’s driveway, meaning I had to turn left before that happened, otherwise, at my current speed, I