by Sarah Fine
“What are they doing?”
“I’m betting they’re waiting for their prey to arrive.” Her breath clouded the surface of the dome, but her throat was dry.
The excitement in the group was palpable; Ana could feel it even through the solid barrier. They were waiting for something. Eagerly. A few of them turned their heads and stared up at the sun, as if it would tell them the time. “Mazikin possess human bodies in other realms,” she explained. “They have this ceremony. They tie their victims to a table, and they light some incense. When the smoke is thick, they call one of their spirits up from this city, and it takes shape as a shadow. Then it takes possession of the body—and sends the person’s soul here.”
She closed her eyes, remembering the one Mazikin possession she’d witnessed, holed up with Malachi in an air vent, waiting for a platoon of Guards to arrive so they could burn the nest to the ground and kill any survivors. It had been a few years after Takeshi’s death, but it had hurt like a scimitar to the heart. The woman had arched up, screaming and thrashing against her bonds as the smoky shadow slammed into her. Her face had twisted with agony, and tears had streamed from beneath her closed eyelids. Ana had never seen anything as terrible, and she had seen a lot of terrible things. For a long time after that, she’d relived it in her dreams, only it had been Takeshi on that table, tied down tight, howling as the evil spirit ripped him from himself.
Behind them, the serpent belched. It blinked sleepily at them, then slowly slithered away across the sand. The carrion birds floated to the ground, happily cawing as they prepared to feast on the shredded remains of the hunchbacked barbarians who hadn’t been lucky enough to escape. Ana watched the sun glint off the emerald scales of the receding sand serpent, off the oily black feathers of the enormous carrion birds, then turned back to the dome. The Mazikin crowd had grown. They flowed out of the city gates, grinning and flexing clawed fingers.
Even outside the barrier, the sucking pop was audible. A dark void opened above the sandy gathering area, and the Mazikin raised their arms, their mouths curving into wide, toothy grins as they stared at the black hole. Ana’s heart was beating so hard she felt as if it were about to crack her ribs. Sascha drew in a sharp breath, and she realized she’d reached out and clutched his arm, squeezing desperately. She stared at the black opening, a window to another realm, waiting, the anxiety choking her—
A man fell from the hole, naked and limp, and crashed into the sand. She watched him brace his palms against the ground and raise his head, pain etched onto every feature of his face as the Mazikin crowded around him, blocking her view.
Ana stumbled away from the dome, unable to contain her screams.
They’d taken Malachi.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sascha caught her before she hit the ground, but she was already fighting to get back to the dome. She drew one of her knives and sliced it against the dome, but the tip scraped down the side with a pathetic squeak, not even leaving a scratch. Still, she stabbed and stabbed, her strikes keeping time with her wild cries. “No! No!”
Huge hands closed around her arms. “Did you see him?” Sascha asked, his voice high with confusion. “Was that Takeshi?”
“No!”
“Then what are you doing, Ana?” he shouted, frustration beginning to leak in.
Ana dropped the knife and lunged toward the dome, once again cupping her hands around her eyes so she could see inside. The Mazikin lifted Malachi from the ground, holding him high as he struggled and fought. Their claws raked his legs and hips and ribs, and as his blood flowed down, their mouths dropped wide to lap it up. His face was a mask of agony—and another emotion that made Ana’s tears flow, one she’d only seen in his eyes once before: when he’d let Lela go into the Mazikin nest.
Fear.
Malachi was afraid.
One of the Mazikin got a handful of his hair and wrenched his head back, and several others grabbed hold of his arms. With wide grins on their faces, the Mazikin carried their prize through the gates and slammed them shut. The dark void swirled into nothingness, leaving only the dome and the sky above.
The black-red drops in the sand were the only sign of what had just happened.
Ana fell away from the dome and retched, her body heaving, rejecting everything she’d just seen. Shaking, she crawled away and collapsed in the sand, sobs racking her body. As much as she’d tried not to, she loved Malachi like a brother. And now the Mazikin had him. How had that happened? In seven decades as a Guard, Malachi had never come close to being taken by the Mazikin. He was too clever, too dangerous, too calculating. And she’d been certain he was about to be released into the Countryside, where he’d never have to worry about the Mazikin again. Lela had promised she’d make sure he got out. And Ana had been sure the girl cared about Malachi.
She’d cared about her friend Nadia more, though.
If Lela had done something stupid again … Ana gritted her teeth. Lela had lit that boy up in a way nothing else ever had, not even his determination to exterminate the Mazikin. Not even his desperation to leave the city. He loved her. He would have sacrificed himself for her in a heartbeat.
If Lela was the cause of this, she deserved to suffer.
“Ana.”
It wasn’t Sascha’s voice, but it was one she recognized. She raised her head. Raphael stood next to Sascha, dwarfed by the Guard’s looming presence. It was Sascha who looked intimidated, though. He stared at Raphael, then turned to Ana. “He just appeared,” he said, looking bewildered.
She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and slowly got to her feet. “He does that sometimes.”
Raphael smiled, and though it was subtle, it still brightened the whole of his otherwise ordinary face. “I’m glad to see you again,” he said to her, “though this isn’t the most pleasant of meeting places.”
“They have Malachi,” she said, then put a hand to her throat, which felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper.
Raphael’s gaze traced the curve of the dome over the city. “That’s why I’m here. The Judge is requesting your presence at the Sanctum. We thought maybe you’d like to take the mission. Sanctioned, this time.” He looked her up and down, taking in her bedraggled, bandaged, pathetic appearance.
“I’ll take it,” Ana said. “But the Judge knew I would, didn’t she? All this was just a setup to make sure I’d be willing. To make sure I knew both of them were in there.”
Raphael chuckled. “That kind of sentiment’s running rampant today. You’re the one who chose to come here, Ana. The Judge didn’t do that for you.”
Ana rolled her eyes. “Not that it matters. I’ll do it.”
“Let’s get going, then.” He held his hand out to her.
“What about me?” asked Sascha. He looked back and forth from Ana to Raphael. “I’m strong. I can help her.”
Raphael gave Sascha a gentle smile. “This mission is not for you. I’m sorry. You haven’t been summoned.”
Sascha’s face twisted with the rejection. “But I could—”
Raphael shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He looked at Ana again and raised his eyebrows.
Ana took Sascha’s hands, his skin pale against the darkness of hers, his massive fingers closing around her slender ones. “Thank you for helping me,” she said. “Thank you for everything. You’re going to get out of here. And you’ll find your way back to Henry someday. It’ll happen.”
Sascha blinked down at her, his sorrow dimming behind his pale eyes, resignation replacing it. He bowed his head and squeezed her hands. “Will you … will you put in a good word for me with the Judge? Tell him what I did for you. Tell him I’m ready, that I’ll take any chance he gives me.”
She released his hands and threw her arms around his waist, giving him a tight hug. “I will,” she whispered. “I absolutely will.”
He stepped back as she let him go. “Thank you.”
She turned to Raphael. “Ready.”
Raphael smiled and took her hand.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sarah Fine was born on the West Coast, raised in the Midwest, and is now firmly entrenched on the East Coast, where she lives with her husband and two children. When she’s not writing, she’s working as a child psychologist. No, she is not psychoanalyzing you right now. She is the author of the young adult novels Sanctum, Fractured, Of Metal and Wishes, and Scan. Her first adult fantasy novel, Marked, releases in January 2015 from 47North.
Find Sarah online at http://sarahfinebooks.com/ or on Twitter @FineSarah.
For more information about the Guards of the Shadowlands series, and to read excerpts from Malachi’s personal journals, visit www.GuardsOfTheShadowlands.tumblr.com.
