by M. J. Scott
Was I really so distracted by her mere presence?
Idiot.
But I didn’t mean to keep being one. She was leaving with me. Whether she wanted to or not.
I had a powder in my pocket that would almost certainly knock her out if I blew it into her face, but I didn’t really want to render her unconscious. It would be easier if she came willingly, though I doubted she would. She stood a few feet away, looking as though she was regretting the fact that she hadn’t killed me already.
I slid my hand down to my knife, readying myself. I had no doubt she could kill. Despite her injuries, every sleek muscled inch of her had come to attention at the first roar. She held the dagger like an extension of her arm. A trained warrior, the way Guy was.
Guy, who’d be here any second.
Gods and suns. One last shot to convince her.
I thought fast. She hadn’t killed me. She wanted me gone. So I could use that. Play on her sympathy. Let her think I needed her help to get out of here. Get her closer to an exit, then knock her out if I had to.
“Is there a back entrance?” I asked, trying to sound nervous. In truth, I was nervous. Just not about the fighting.
“No.” She shook her head, strands of red falling across her face. One hand pushed them away impatiently. “You should go now. This will get violent.”
There was another roar and something crashed nearby with a force that shook the walls of the alcove.
“Sounds like it’s violent already. Can you help me get to the door? Without getting hurt?”
She rolled her eyes. “They can’t hurt me, idiot.”
“Because you’ve got your little dagger?” I snapped, reaching for my own knife, which was bigger and nastier than hers. Then I remembered I was meant to be acting more helpless than I was.
“No, because I can do this.”
She faded from sight.
“Mother of—” I stopped myself midcurse. She’d disappeared.
Gods and fucking suns.
I’d known a wraith could do that, of course, but getting a half glimpse of her at night in my bedroom was different from seeing her suddenly vanish. Gooseflesh prickled my neck. “Are you still here?” As questions went, it felt foolish, but her sudden disappearance had me off balance.
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t sound any less exasperated for coming out of thin air. “Wait here, I’ll see what’s going on.”
Walk through the bloody wall, that’s what she meant. I tightened my grip on my dagger. I hadn’t brought a focus for my sunlight; there’d been no way to get into the Assembly with something that reeked of magery. The charm around my neck was Fae work, unexceptional, low-level magic that wouldn’t draw attention. Without a focus, there was no way for me to access the sun here. Which meant my knife and Shadow’s were the only things improving our chances of getting out of here unscathed.
It seemed to take an endless time before she suddenly appeared again. I didn’t jump a second time.
She looked pleased. “The fight’s moving away, toward the ballroom.”
“That’s a good thing?”
“It means you’ve got a clear path to the door. I’m going to take down the privacy shield. Then when I say go, you go. I’ll watch your back. If you keep your head down, you’ll be fine.”
“I’m not leaving you here.” It was wrong. I knew it. She wasn’t supposed to live with the monsters. To hell with what she could do for us, or what she had done. I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to leave her alone and hurt amidst a riot. I wasn’t going to leave her to Lucius.
To destruction.
Harm to none.
I wasn’t going to fail this time.
She scowled. “You don’t have a choice. Now stop wasting time. On three, all right?”
Time. Guy. Right. I’d really hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Once we went through that door and Guy found us, there was no turning back from our plan. “On three.”
She counted slowly and I was ready when she reached three. The door opened and I ducked through, scanning quickly to get my bearings. The exit to the Assembly was to my right, an easy sprint, except for the panicked crowd surging around us.
Cover and camouflage, moron. Guy’s voice in my head again. Indeed. Remember my lessons. Use the crowd.
For ten seconds or so, it went well. I found gaps in the crowd, shoving and punching when I had to and avoiding the small pockets of fighting. Better still, she was following. Maybe this would work after all.
I took another step; then something shoved me in the back with the force of a mule kick.
“Get down!” Shadow yelled as I sprawled forward.
Shock ran up my arm as I caught myself, but I ignored it and used the impetus to propel myself back to my feet. I twisted frantically and there she was, solid in black, dagger slashing almost too fast to follow as she confronted a Beast Kind in hybrid form.
I’d never seen one up close, but there was nothing else a six-foot–tall, furred, slavering man-thing could be.
It swiped at her and connected with her arm, making her cry out. But she didn’t retreat.
“Go!” she yelled again as our eyes met.
The Beast moved forward with a howl and I didn’t see how it was going to miss again. Somehow I knew she wouldn’t shadow, not when it could get to me through her.
But as the hybrid raised its arm again, it suddenly froze, a puzzled expression on its face. Blood gushed from its mouth. Then it crumpled to the floor, revealing Guy standing there, shoving what had to be a silver dagger back into his belt.
Shadow was staring at Guy with an expression that was some strange mix of respect, wariness, and something else I couldn’t quite identify.
At least Guy hadn’t drawn his sword. Nothing like a Templar broadsword hacking people down to draw attention.
“Interesting tactics, little brother,” Guy said calmly, as though we weren’t standing in the middle of a brawl.
I tightened my grip on my dagger and stepped closer to Shadow. “We were doing fine.”
Shadow looked from me to Guy as if she wasn’t sure exactly what she was seeing.
Guy tapped the disc at his neck and raised an eyebrow. I nodded. Yes. Plan B. Guy jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
I reached for Shadow’s arm, digging the other hand into my pocket for my knockout powder, determined to take her with us, but I hadn’t quite gripped her before something big and wooden sailed through the air from behind, clipping her in the back of the head. The chair—at least that’s what I thought it had been originally—changed direction slightly after it hit her and missed me by a hairbreadth.
I didn’t waste time as I saw her start to fall, simply swooped forward, caught her, and hoisted her over my shoulder. Problem solved. We had her and we were taking her. I’d deal with the consequences when they came.
“You sure about this?” Guy growled as I adjusted Shadow’s unconscious form on my shoulder.
“Completely.”
Guy nodded once. “So be it.”
We made like hell for the exit.
Chapter Five
Warmth on my back. That was the first thing that registered. The second, as I turned my head to figure out the source of the warmth, was a wave of pain from almost every muscle in my body. Lords of hell, what had happened ? I cracked one eye open gingerly. The sunmage sat on an old wooden chair next to the bed. That got my attention. Then I remembered.
Lords of hell.
“Good morning,” he said as I closed my eyes, hoping that I was dreaming.
Nothing changed. I still hurt. Like a whole pack of Beast Kind had trampled me. But no, if memory served it was mostly due to a single vampire. Lucius. My breath hissed as my anger flared at the memory of his beating. So much for dreaming.
I rolled cautiously onto my side, not ready to actually attempt sitting up yet. My right arm, in particular. Someone had apparently replaced my bones with red-hot pokers. I ignored the pain, my brain still assembling fa
cts.
I was not safe in my room in the warrens, I was somewhere else.
In the human world.
With the sunmage.
Hells. Lucius would think I had run. I was a dead woman.
“What did you do?” I said, trying not to groan as I opened my eyes again.
Simon shrugged. “We could hardly leave you there unconscious.”
I sat up very carefully, squinting against the unfamiliar light. He didn’t waver and fade from view. This was definitely not a dream. More a living nightmare. “Yes. Yes, you could. In fact, any sane person would.”
“There were rampaging Beast Kind everywhere.” He sounded cheerful, but stubble shaded his chin and the shadows under his eyes dulled the blue. His hair was brown-blond once more, stripped of whatever had turned it black. It was an improvement but didn’t make him look any less tired.
I wondered if he’d slept at all. Then cursed myself inside my head. What did it matter if he’d slept? It only mattered that I was here instead of where I should be and consequentially hell was going to rain down on all our heads. “I can handle Beasts.”
“Unconscious? I’m impressed.”
I ignored him. Ignoring insane people was only sensible. Though I did want to know where I was. That way I could work out the fastest way to get back to Sorrow’s Hill. Maybe I could return to the warrens before Lucius even realized I was gone. I’d been willing to defy him last night by not killing Simon, but I hadn’t wanted to give him a reason to kill me instead. “I assume you weren’t foolish enough to take me to your house.”
That would be one of the first places Lucius would look if he had noted my absence.
“No,” he said. “Guy’s.”
Guy. For a moment I couldn’t remember. Then it hit me. Simon’s giant brother. The Templar. I had a sudden vision of Guy in the Assembly last night, dagger dripping blood, looking like the wrath of some ancient god—which, technically, he was.
He’d slaughtered a Beast with casual ease, using only a silver dagger. I’d recognized the expression on his face as he’d glanced at the body. He was a killer like me. Someone who met force with force. One who would dispatch his enemies with no remorse.
Enemies like me. Panic flared and I straightened with a jerk that made me hiss as my head threatened to come apart.
“The Brother House?” One Templar was bad enough . . . but a whole building full of them? If Simon had brought me to the Templar Brother House, I’d kill him myself. If I had a chance to before the Templars decided to cut off my head.
“No. This is his apartment.”
That didn’t make me feel much better. Guy had no reason to trust me or extend me any courtesy. Even if he didn’t know that I had tried to kill Simon—and at this point I had to assume he didn’t or else why was I still breathing?—he might decide to cut off my head without the help of his brethren merely because of who I was. “Whose brilliant idea was that?”
“Mine. Even Lucius isn’t crazy enough to attack a Templar directly.”
After the previous two nights, I wasn’t willing to gamble anything on what Lucius might or might not do. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I should leave.”
Simon shook his head, looking stern. “You don’t have to go anywhere. In fact, you shouldn’t go anywhere. You took a pretty hard blow to the head. And you weren’t in very good shape before that.”
This last was accusing, as though he was angry with me. Why? Because I’d lied to him about being hurt? Trying to work it out only made the pain in my head worse as I looked at his grim expression.
Guy was a warrior. Simon, though . . . I was not at all sure what he was. He’d overpowered me at his house and he’d been more than adept at working his way through the brawl at Halcyon without even drawing a weapon. Not to be underestimated. Plus, he was a sunmage, commanding the very thing that robbed me of my powers. Yet he was a healer, dedicated to saving lives. A contradiction.
I rubbed my forehead with careful fingers, using my left hand. Even that small movement sent renewed awareness through me of how bruised and battered I was. I reached up and felt the crusted lump on my head with cautious fingers. “I heal fast.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Excuse me? What do you know about it?”
“I know that I’ve already spent several hours working on you during the night and you still can’t move without groaning.”
I set my teeth. “Yes, I can.”
He folded his arms and leaned back on the chair, looking grim. “Is that so? Well, then, tell you what. You make it out of that bed and to the door without so much as a wince and I won’t stand in your way.”
I stared at him, frustration warring with the knowledge that my body wanted to simply lie still and not go anywhere, thank you kindly. Finally I looked away, over his head toward the window. From my position on the bed, I couldn’t glimpse much more than a view of sky and a redbrick apartment building across the street. Nothing to reveal our location. Though if Guy lived near the Brother House, then St. Giles or Bellefleurs seemed likely.
“I thought as much,” Simon said. “Are you going to be sensible about this?”
Did he really think I would be? I ignored his question and inspected the room instead. The walls were plain white and bare of decoration. Apart from the bed and Simon’s chair, the only other furnishings were a rug in shades of gray and blue and a worn wooden chest, dark with age, pushed against one wall. It currently supported a simple white washbasin and a pile of dark leather. My trousers and vest.
The fact that Simon had undressed me almost bothered me more than the fact that he’d kidnapped me. I glared at the leathers, wanting to climb out of bed and drag them on to feel normal again, but that would mean not only moving but doing so clad only in a shirt and my drawers.
My fists clenched, but that only rekindled the fire in my arm. I released them with a muffled curse.
Simon cleared his throat and I turned my head to glare at him instead of my clothes.
“I can help with that. Now that it’s light, I can do more.” He stood and leaned over me. “May I?”
This I couldn’t ignore. I wasn’t foolish enough to refuse anything that would return me to full strength. In the light of day, without the shadow, I had to rely on my speed and strength for protection. “Yes.”
He stretched his hands toward me, not touching, just hovering over my skin as he skimmed the lines of my body, a small frown of concentration creasing his forehead. His hands paused for a moment over my right arm but then moved up to my head.
The touch, when it came, was light, so light that for a moment I wasn’t at all sure if he had actually touched me. Then his hands moved to cradle my head delicately. I squeezed my eyes closed, determined not to smell him, not to breathe him too deep.
Even hurt and exhausted, the need still coiled deep within me, barely contained. I didn’t need the nearness of a man to set it off again. I was going back to Lucius before a war began. And before Simon learned the truth about exactly what I was. He wouldn’t be so keen to heal me then.
Something akin to a cool breeze flowed over my skull, starting from his hands and radiating from there. The pain receded and I relaxed into the sudden reprieve. Simon’s breath deepened and I heard the thump, thump, thump as his heartbeat started to race, but he didn’t stop. Instead, his hands lifted and moved to clasp my right arm, his touch gentle as if he handled something incredibly fragile. Despite his care, it still hurt, shards of fire stabbing into me. I tensed.
“Relax,” he said softly. “The Beast fractured your arm in several places. I worked on it some last night, so this should finish the job.” He drew a deep breath, his eyelids lowering slowly. Another rasping breath, then another, and then once again, a cool sensation flowed through my skin, carrying the pain away in its wake. First my arm, then slowly outward across my chest and down my entire body. With each few inches farther, Simon’s heart beat faster. Too fast.
The cool slid down to my kn
ees as his heart pounded.
“Enough!” I pulled at my arm, breaking his grip.
Simon gasped, then staggered back a step, groping for the chair before sinking heavily into it.
I pushed myself up. This time the resulting pain was manageable, more the familiar aches and pains that rise after a good fight than the agony of earlier. “Are you all right?”
He summoned a tired-looking smile. Perhaps I was imagining things, but the shadows beneath his eyes were a deeper purple than they had been earlier.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I need to spend some time outside. Then I’ll finish the job.”
Outside? Oh. Of course, he needed the sun. The source of his power. The enemy of mine. “You shouldn’t waste your power on me.” His heart still raced, working too hard for a strong man sitting still.
“I’m a healer. It’s what I do.”
“No matter what your patient may have done?” Did he really help whoever needed it? It seemed unlikely to me. The Blood do little out of altruism. Their world is a careful dance of debt and counterdebt, of favor and deals and selfinterest.
He nodded. “No matter what.”
Maybe he—No. I wasn’t going to think it. He might say no matter what, but I doubted he truly meant it. It was better this way. Better I be nothing more than one more hurt to mend. Still, there was a strange twist of something deep inside to think that maybe his interest in me was merely based on his desire to mend something he saw as broken.
And what would he do once he knew I was beyond fixing ? No one had ever broken the grip of the blood. It was why the humans abandoned their blood-locked. Seemed to hate them, almost. Like they would hate me.
I straightened my shoulders. “As I said before, I heal fast. You’ve helped with the worst of it.”
That earned me a sudden scowl. “I said I’ll finish the job.” His knuckles turned white against the wooden frame of the chair and his heart sped yet again.
