Targets

Havermouth, Present Time

At the top of the stairs, she saw Mercy standing in the open door to Rhett’s room. The dark haired woman looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide, and stepped back, edging along the wall to the doorway to the next room and disappearing within.

Aislen and Heath exchanged a look of alarm and moved forward to the doorway. Cameron looked up from where he knelt beside the bed over Rhett, his face pale and strained, his cheeks flushed. There was a bowl and a cloth next to him. Rhett lay on the mattress, strands of his hair plastered wetly to his face. He gripped Cameron’s forearm, his eyes tightly closed, and a muscle worked in his jaw, obviously in pain.

“He’s sick,” Cameron whispered the word to Heath and Aislen.

Rhett’s eyes opened the pupils blown, seeking out Heath and Aislen and he smiled weakly. “Better sick than hungry, eh?” He said, his voice braking.

“Talen!” Aislen’s cry was out of her mouth before the thought formed. She fell forward onto her knees, crawl