by Jodi Meadows
“I see seven,” James said.
“Five on my side.” Twelve total. A good challenge—if we’d both been perfectly healthy.
The mirrors on the upper-story wall made the space seem bigger, more crowded, but if I could keep the mirrors in my sight, they’d help me keep track of everyone else. We should have put the skylight between us and the door to begin with, now that I thought of it.
Too late now.
The Nightmare woman snapped and her men were on us at once.
A man with a rusted pipe reached me first, pulling back to bash me over the head. But my sword had a longer reach, and I nicked him across the exposed underside of his forearm. Blood soaked through his tattered shirt in seconds, but he didn’t back off.
I cut again, this time aiming for his ribs as the pipe came toward my head. The shirt split, and the skin beneath, but I had to duck aside to keep from getting hit.
The pipe crashed down where I’d been. I shoved him aside and sliced open his fingers so he couldn’t grip his weapon anymore, but by that time two others had reached me.
I pressed my back against James’s, taking only a second to check the mirror for his progress. He was holding his own against three men with knives, but more were closing in on him.
Then a sword swung toward my head. I blocked and shoved it up and back, my cracked rib screaming with the strain. The man staggered back and I kicked him square in the stomach as I turned my blade toward the other man, this one with a length of chain.
I scraped the tip of my sword across his chest, but I was too slow and off-balance to keep from getting smacked in the shoulder. I stumbled, caught myself in a crouch, and flicked my sword out to cut across his thigh. He yelled and staggered back.
The fighting went on, James and I keeping our backs together and the skylight at our sides; that way we had two safe sides—at least until the Nightmares brought out crossbows or blow darts.
I knocked down another man, slashed across one’s stomach, and slipped back into guard position as they began to regroup. Even the injured ones got back up, like the bleeding wounds hardly bothered them.
“We have to get out of here,” James said behind me. I checked the mirror: he matched my position, waiting for the Nightmares to rush him.
“Think they’ll give us a few minutes to climb down if we ask nicely?” I shook off the sarcasm. “We’re not leaving without stopping him.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” James grunted and one of the Nightmares began getting creative with names.
When one came at me again, I shifted and cut and kicked, my whole body screaming with the movement—and glass shattered. Everyone, even the Nightmare leader, paused to watch as a man fell through the skylight and disappeared into the building.
He was going to die.
I knew it.
There was no way he could survive a five-story fall. Definitely not when there were so many things to break himself on. The vats. Catwalks. Platforms. Other people.
I didn’t have time for guilt. More Nightmares emerged from the rooftop doorway, and if we’d been in trouble before, now it seemed even less likely we’d make it home. Maybe we should have just let the Indigo Order handle this and risk Father learning my secrets.
But that would give Mother another reason to hate James, and Father an excuse to send him away. I would not lose James.
“Light a fuse.” I shifted so James was between the skylight and me.
Now I had several more sides to guard, against several more people, but I cut and kicked and found one of the firebomb vials in my pocket. I hurled it into the mass of Nightmares coming onto the roof.
The vial exploded.
Light and crashing and glass erupted, knocking down several men, as well as the woman commanding them. My ears rang as all sounds muted. Tears obscured my light-blinded vision. I rocked on my heels, unable to see more than vague shapes in a depthless field of white.
Gradually, sight and hearing returned, but there was no time to just wait for it. I gripped my sword and started toward the nearest shadow of a Nightmare. It looked like he was trying to get off the ground, but there was red smeared across his face.
Then, smoke exploded across the rooftop, clouding around the Nightmares and clotting in my throat so I couldn’t breathe. I coughed and gagged, staggering at the disorientation. My head felt light. Confused.
“This way!” James grabbed my arm, making me jump, but his grip was solid and sure as he yanked me out of the way. “Try to run!”
We moved around the smoke as best we could. My throat and eyes stung as we hurried toward the door—but someone cut us off. Another Nightmare. I struck out with my sword, slashing him across the nose. When he screamed and doubled over to cup his bleeding face, James shoved him toward the smoke and chaos.
“In here.” James dragged me into the sixth story of the building.
The air was clearer here. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and followed James down the narrow, metal stairs that rang with our footsteps. “Don’t look directly at the firebombs when you throw them,” I said. “In case you were wondering.”
“How have you been doing this without me?” he muttered. Or at least, it sounded like he was muttering. My ears continued to ring at a headache-inducing pitch.
I gripped the rail with my free hand as we hurried down the stairs. After the first flight, my vision returned to normal, and by the second flight, I could clearly hear the hum of machinery, the clang of boots hitting metal, and voices shouting instructions to kill the intruders.
There were men above, coming down the stairs after us. And there were men racing up the stairs. We had perhaps two minutes before they reached us.
We were trapped. There was no getting to the ground floor from here.
A quick scan of our surroundings revealed the catwalks that stretched over the giant vats. The nearest catwalk was five strides away, with guardrails at waist level. It would be a long jump. Below us waited a huge, bubbling vat of firefly. Heat and wraith stink rose off the pearlescent liquid. Fumes. Could one fall to the effects of firefly just from the fumes?
Well, there weren’t any better options.
I sheathed my sword and climbed onto the stair rail. “James.”
He glanced over his shoulder and ran back to meet me. Of course, he immediately knew what I planned. “This is insane.”
The men were closing in. “Insane is all we’ve got.”
“It’s that or beheading.” James sheathed his sword and followed me onto the rail. Old metal creaked as he found his footing and glanced at me. “Go together?”
“Let’s do it.” I kept my eyes on the guardrail on the catwalk.
Footfalls clanged down the stairs as our pursuers gained on us.
“On three.” James threw one of his firebombs up, toward the men coming down the stairs, then pulled himself into a tight crouch; I crouched, too. “One. Two. Three—”
We jumped.
The firefly boiled below. Shouts sounded from behind. The firebomb exploded, making the air rumble around us.
James hit the guardrail first. He grabbed it and hung on.
I hit second. Lower. My hands slipped on the smooth floor of the catwalk. My cracked rib burned as I tried to pull myself up—at least enough to grab the lower rail.
It was no use. I couldn’t do it. Not right now. The heat from the firefly vats was smothering, making my hands slick with sweat.
I dug my fingertips into the metal.
“Tobiah!” James scrambled above me, boots scraping onto the floor. When he was secure, he reached for me.
Before I slipped again, I grabbed James’s hand and squeezed as he hauled me up enough that I could take hold of the rail.
I wanted to pause and catch my breath, but several of our pursuers had come even with us on the stairs. James and I tumbled onto the catwalk, picked a direction, and ran.
The firebomb he’d thrown had done its work. The skeletal stair was in tatters above, with metal
blackened and torn, and lengths of the rail dripping toward the firefly below. A chunk fell in, splashing the bottom of our catwalk; the metal sizzled.
“Sounds bad.” James glanced over his shoulder to make sure I was keeping up. “Look for more stairs.”
As if I wasn’t already.
But the whole place was a mess of wiry catwalks and platforms, metal rods and gunk-smeared windows. It was hard to see anything potentially useful, but there had to be more stairs somewhere.
My boots pounded on the steel catwalk as I followed James around a blind corner, blocked by a mess of support beams.
A tall, tattooed figure dropped onto the catwalk ahead. The Nightmare woman grabbed James before he could pull his sword. She whipped him around and pressed a dagger to his throat.
Before I could react, another person dropped behind me, hitting the catwalk with an awful thud. I reached over my shoulder for my sword, but the man—he was taller than me, so likely a man—caught my hand and elbow, wrenched them back, and shoved everything forward.
My shoulder gave an agonizing pop and my whole arm went numb.
SEVEN
WITHOUT LOOKING BEHIND me, I knew who’d dislocated my shoulder.
Lord Hensley.
The shooting pain in my shoulder forced a low, tortured scream from my throat. It made everything dim. Sound. Sight. Even the sense of someone behind me. I felt like I was swaying, but Hensley’s hand was still heavy on mine. His stump was still pressed into my shoulder.
I couldn’t feel my arm. Couldn’t bring it down. Couldn’t grasp my sword. My arm was useless, hanging over my shoulder like a hook or question mark, shooting with blinding pain. When I turned my head, I could half see a bulge pushing out from the front of my shoulder. Bones out of socket. I wanted to be sick.
A few paces away, James stared at me, unmoving thanks to the dagger at his throat. Blood trickled down his skin.
“Just on time.” Hensley’s voice rumbled behind me. “You realize that, don’t you? There was no one there when your soldiers arrived at the ambush. There was only Brooks, who thought he was actually going to succeed, and given all the information needed to lure you here. You fell for it last night, Tobiah, and you fell for it again tonight. Only now, you’ll get a taste of what you so despise.”
I wanted to jam my elbow into his sternum, but the pain was a deafening roar in my ears. Any time I tried to move my arm, the world turned sideways and I staggered.
“My lady.” Hensley nodded at her; I could half feel his chin brush my fingertips. “Feel free to dispose of that one. He’s no longer necessary.”
She gave a wide, terrifying smile, and began to draw her blade across James’s throat.
“No!” The scream tore from me. This could not happen again. I wouldn’t let it. I couldn’t let him get hurt—
A knife filled my right hand—the hand I couldn’t feel. I wrapped my fingers around it. At least, I hoped I did. I thought I did. It was so hard to tell with my shoulder stuck out of socket, the muscles and nerves stretched tight. Saints, I could barely feel anything but the pain.
But a knife was in my hand. I threw myself back, felt a moment of resistance, and Hensley yelled. He shoved me forward, and I stumbled toward James.
The distraction was enough.
The Nightmare leader had loosened her grip, and James had stomped down on her foot and twisted away. He whipped his sword free of its sheath and slashed. Blood spread across her stomach. She didn’t move.
Hensley was bleeding from the cheek. I’d cut him, but shallowly, and at an angle that wouldn’t do more than scar. He bent to grab the black-handled knife I’d dropped. “Where did you get this?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer. He ran toward me, knife in hand, and drew back to shove it into me—
The knife vanished. James lurched forward. His sword plunged into Hensley’s shoulder.
Hensley dropped to the floor with a loud clang. More Nightmares and guards filled the platforms and catwalks around us, but none were close enough to fight us yet. Which was good, because my right arm still hung uselessly over my shoulder.
“Let’s fix this.” James grabbed my wrist and pulled it up and around. Black swarmed into my vision, forcing me to my knees. But the pain of hitting the floor was faint and faraway. The only thing I could feel was my shoulder being wrenched straight out to my side. He gave my arm a long tug and used his free hand to shove the bulge of displaced bone back into its socket.
I blacked out.
When I opened my eyes I was sitting on my heels, my arm tucked against my chest like I’d almost lost it. It had felt like I’d almost lost it.
James scraped his sword off the floor and faced Hensley.
He wasn’t dead yet?
I wouldn’t let James fight him alone. Groaning, I picked myself up off the ground, reached across with my left hand, and slowly drew my sword from the sheath across my back. The awkward motion made my shoulder and rib hurt, and I was far less skilled fighting left-handed than right, but I’d had some training, at least.
Together, James and I faced Lord Hensley.
“Your life at court is over,” I rasped. “The king knows what you’ve done.”
“You think I care?” Hensley shook his head. “Once I make this sale, I’ll have enough money to disappear.”
“Who do you plan on selling to?” I stepped aside so the Nightmare leader’s body was visible. “Seems to me your buyer won’t be able to pay.”
“There are others in Skyvale.” He looked desperate, though. He was pale and sweating, bleeding, and he pressed his stump to his hurt shoulder.
“You underestimated us.” I adjusted my grip on my sword.
Hensley reached out to hold the rail. Heat radiated off his hand, through the metal. At once, the cut on his face blackened and stopped bleeding. The gash on his shoulder cauterized.
James and I glanced at each other. His eyes slowly widened.
“It’s hot.” I twisted away from Hensley. “Run!”
Already, heat spread across the catwalk, through the soles of my boots. The gaining burn spurred me away, like I could outrun Hensley’s magic. Already, the metal glowed a dull red.
Maybe I should—
A set of stairs caught my eye. I lunged for them, James close behind me. Before we were halfway up, I grabbed a firebomb from my pocket, but before I could throw it, every muscle in my shoulder seized and I dropped the vial.
James was fast. He snatched the firebomb from the air and hurled it toward Hensley.
The explosion rocked the stairs as we resumed our ascent. Running with my sword in my good hand, and everything shaking beneath me, was more difficult than I’d anticipated, but the heat under my boots had eased.
Finally, we reached a wide platform with more staircases branching off. Two up. One down, besides the way we’d come; that was crumbling into one of the vats of firefly. The liquid turned bright as chunks of metal vanished beneath the bubbling surface.
And Hensley? I couldn’t see him through the smoke and destruction. Only the vat beneath where he’d stood, which bubbled ferociously now.
“We need to go down.” My words came out in hard gasps. Smoke and firefly stench filled the air, smothering. If we didn’t get out of this building soon, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to remain upright. Let alone able to fight.
“Down is a bad choice right now.”
James was right. The other downward stairs were flooded with Nightmares, Hensley’s guards, and even a few police officers.
“Up it is.”
As we climbed, James sheathed his sword and struck a match; a fuse took the flame and he tossed the smoke bomb back onto the platform behind us, just as our new pursuers stepped off the stairs.
We ran on. My legs burned with the exertion, and every motion jostled my shoulder and rib. It took all my focus to follow James, to keep lifting one foot in front of the other. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t sheathe my sword with my left hand; I’d barely been a
ble to draw it.
And Hensley’s people were still behind us.
“Turn right!” James’s shout came out ragged and it seemed we spent hours climbing up and down stairs and avoiding Hensley’s men. Smoke bombs and firebombs were our best defense, and we threw them whenever necessary, but by the time we reached the ground floor, we had none left.
And a small army of Hensley’s men stood between us and the door.
My chest felt like it was on fire as James and I halted, staring at the guarded exit. At our backs rose one of the giant firefly vats. Broken metal hung above it. Shining liquid spilled over the sides where pieces of the catwalk had displaced it.
I couldn’t tell if there were other doors around the building. Probably. But I didn’t know where they were, and I didn’t want to risk getting trapped on the catwalks again. My legs were limp from climbing stairs and there was definitely no way I’d be able to rappel down the side of the building.
Which, unfortunately, left fighting our way through a dozen people.
Before I could attack, metal screeched and everyone blocking the door looked up with panic in their eyes.
They turned to run.
I ran, too, James just a second behind me.
Fifteen paces from the door, I called out to James. “What’s happening?”
He glanced over his shoulder. Ten paces. “The whole thing is white-hot.”
That couldn’t be right.
Seven paces.
I checked over my shoulder.
He was right.
The vat was blinding white, and it seemed to be ripping open at the top. Firefly spilled out, spreading across the floor.
I ran harder, lungs and legs burning. The air, too, seemed to be on fire. It was so much hotter than it had been before.
The vat split open just as James and I reached the door. A wave of firefly—as tall as me—thundered toward us.
“Go left!” I shouted to James. Left was uphill, and the others had gone right—toward the storage warehouse.
I pushed myself harder as the firefly spilled from the warehouse and washed through the street. Liquid heat nipped at my heels, but the wave crested and fell back—downhill.
