Witch in Hiding (#1 in the Witches Trilogy) (EDITING)

Thirteen: R & R, As In, Run.

"Three!" They're all shouting now, like some twisted New Year's countdown. "Two!"

Damn.

Mel comes after me first. She's a fast runner with stamina and good aim—a problem. I run as she pulls the trigger. A bright yellow paintball streaks past me and splatters on a barricade of stacked tires. Not enough of those. I sprint and duck behind a partition, narrowly avoiding Mel's shot, that slams into the wood instead. I glance out and almost have a heart attack. She's bearing on me—way too fast. She's using her powers.

She lifts her gun, metres away, and instinctively, I sweep her aside. My force yanks her off course and she tumbles to the side. No time to react. I push away from the wall and keep moving. Van is coming for me.

Van is not the athlete Mel is, but werewolves don't need gym sessions. Her eyes going yellow, she runs in my direction, loping with a weirdly animalistic movement. She fires—bright green. They're colour coded. I get ready to push her, too, but then something slams into my shoulder from the back and I stagger forward. I run and check over my shoulder as I do—it's De. She's still in her human form, so she probably can't keep up with me.

Unfortunately, Jess can. She appears out of nowhere and a paintball slams into my leg, tripping me. I roll and jump up, fed by pure adrenaline, and take off. I need to keep a better eye on everyone. But there's four of them and one of me, and I can't see everywhere at once.

I glance upwards. But I can make it darker.

I hurtle behind a curved wall and catch my breath. At the same time, I think of clouds. Thick, dark, overcast clouds. I hear footsteps in the distance—two sets, at least. Time to go.

I get to my feet again, thanking god for all the beep tests I've ever cursed, and making for different barricades, darting between each one, just going from point to point. As I run, it starts to get dryer. My lips start feeling like they're about to crack. But it gets darker. Huge clouds form on the ceiling, blocking out the light. As they knit together, we're plunged into utter darkness. I avoid a shot from Van just before the last light goes out, and hurl myself onto the hanging net that I hid behind the first time.

As they figure out the darkness, I climb, as silently as possible. I didn't know if it would hold my weight, but it turns out to be a cargo net bolted pretty firmly to the ceiling. I scale it, swinging precariously, until my head brushes the clouds and a chill runs down my spine. Then I stay there, silent. Waiting.

I don't hear their voices, and a feeling of unease comes over me. Pitch black, hanging in the air. I keep the horror movie scenarios out of my head and focus. Mel is telepathic. She could be coordinating them. But she can't see in the dark. Can she?

Two yellow eyes appear. In shock, I let go of the net. I hit the crates, and then the ground, and lie there for a second, stunned. Then I remember that it's pitch black and a werewolf who can apparently see in the dark is coming for me, and maybe this was not my best plan. I swipe aside the clouds, and light hits the arena.

All four of my friends are surrounding me, staring at me down the barrels of their guns. Mel's eyes are vampire eyes. Creatures of the night. I forgot. "You lose," Mel says seriously.

Right before she pulls the trigger, I push outward with an explosive force. All of them are thrown backwards, their shots slamming into the ceiling—blue, green, yellow, red. Right. I push De aside—she's the lightest—and dash out the space she creates, heading away from them. My arms are a little spent after hanging onto the cargo net—which, by the way, is a lot more tiring than one might assume—and I've been all-out sprinting for maybe three, four minutes now. I need a better plan.

I need to go invisible.

I start to picture myself invisible, like I pictured the stormclouds. It's harder, though, because I can see myself, and I'm perfectly aware that I'm not invisible. Adding that to the fact that half my brain is preoccupied with running from my friends, it's hard to concentrate on imagining myself see-through.

What would Rae say? Baby steps. A drizzle before a storm.

A neck before a body. I pick a body part I can't see and use that, imagining it invisible. I shove my energy into it, my willpower or my focus or my magic or whatever. And I trust that it's not there. I tell it that it's not there. I tell myself it's not there.

Then I move on to my ears.

It's a weird process, vanishing parts of myself at a time. First things I can't see—neck, ears, eyes, mouth. I get a headstart on my parkour and vault over low obstacles. I duck behind walls. I keep track of four people chasing me down and slap them aside with telekinesis if I have to. Then I move on to parts that I can technically see—my legs, my torso. Hidden under clothes. Okay. I can't see them, therefore they are not there. I get hit twice more—lucky shot by Jess and Van—and narrowly avoid an entire barrage. I'm drenched with sweat and my mind is working in overdrive, but I realise I'm grinning. And I'm exhilarated.

De bears down on me. I feint left, make right, dash behind a box, and vanish.

I have to suck in my gasp. One moment my arms are pumping, running—the next moment they're not. I can feel them, palms pressed against the box, chest heaving, but they're not there. De runs around the box, looks right at me, then goes off carefully, on the lookout.

I'm invisible.

I'm about to declare myself, but an idea stops me. A grin spreads across my face. Time to have a little fun.

Cautiously, I slip out from behind the barricade. I head towards the room where Van got the guns. They've left it unlocked. Amateurs. Keeping an eye out for my friends, I sneak in and grab a gun. It floats in midair for a minute, until I manage to make that go invisible, too. Then I creep out.

Van is metres away from me, barely moving, eyes roving.

I fire.

The ball turns visible once it leaves my gun. She yelps as it hits her—my gun is purple. "Vinni!"

Oops. I run before the others catch on. Mel is nearest, and she's already on alert. She hears my footsteps and spins in my direction, ready to fire, but in a stroke of genius (if I do say so myself) I propel myself up into the air by yanking my gun upwards. Telekinesis is hard to use on yourself—an external object is much easier.

Mel's shot passes harmlessly beneath my feet. I tilt my gun and fire. My first shot misses; my second one doesn't. Violet spatters her as I hit the ground running.

De is next. She doesn't even hear me as I go up to her. I lift my gun and fire.

A ball suckerpunches me in the chest. I gasp involuntarily, momentarily winded. A vivid blue stain now hovers in midair. As I catch my breath, Jess materialises in front of me, grinning. "You still have tricks to learn, young Padawan."

I will the paintball stain to go invisible too. "Bring it, Obi-Wan."