I know I can’t deflect all the powers that are about to fly at me. I’m barely managing to hold onto Armond’s and keep the fire in my hands under control. I’m not even sure what the extent of the powers within the room are, but I know that they’re all lethal in their own right. My only choice is to stall, freeze time, and make a run for it.
Running for the second time in a week. That’s embarrassing.
“Everyone just hold on!” A perky blonde rushes forward holding her hands up.Nala. I want to growl at her interference, but I’m willing to keep my mouth shut to see what happens next. Maybe I can use her diversion to my advantage. I inch closer to freedom as the attention in the room shifts to her. Everyone seems to pause. Hands are poised in the air as the group prepares to attack. So much for the “never kill another hunter”. I mean, I get it. It looks like I went after Armond, but he’s the one who attacked me first. I would never make a move against him without provocation. Not in public anyway. I’m not that stupid. Yet, these assassins are out for blood. My blood. Who fired the first shot doesn’t seem to matter.
There’s so much energy swimming inside of me that all I have to do is borrow some of it as I prepare to slow time.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, Nala eyes me and then the exit, basically telling me to get the hell out. I narrow my eyes on her in the one remaining second I have left before she turns back to the crowd.
What is this girl’s deal? She is throwing herself into the literal line of fire for me. Are we actually friends? Is this something friends do for one another? I don’t think I’m ready for this intense of a commitment.
I’ve never really had a friend before. I’m not sure the guys qualify. If their terrible form of affection is considered friendship, then I don’t think I really want another friend in my life.
“Let’s just all calm down, now.” With her attention trained on them, she soothes the crowd, but there’s a supernatural quality to the way she speaks. I can feel the effects of her voice on me as my heart rate slows. “There’s no reason for a war.” This chick is more dangerous than she appears because I’m pretty damn certain that she has the power of persuasion, even though I can’t see her mark. “Lower your hands.” Command is thick in her tone and I feel a subtle yet insistent pull that asks me to obey. With this many people in the room, her power is weaker per person. I imagine that she’s a lot stronger when her powers are focused on just one individual at a time. Either way, I let my hands fall and allow the fire ball to burn out.
Just like all assassins, Nala has a cap on how much power usage she can run through at a time, and I prepare to make my exit.
The familiar tingling races up my spine and down my arms when I call on my power over time. Just before time slows to a halt for everyone else in the room, I catch the evil grin on Miss Pyro’s face. Her hands are lowered, but her glowing palms are still facing toward me.
I don’t miss the derision on her face for Nala either, and in that moment, I huff a sigh, realizing I have more than myself I need to save.
Friendship sucks.
Fire flies from the woman’s fingertips just as time halts. I want nothing more than to use my time to punch the sadistic grin from her lips, but instead, I rush toward Nala, toward that damn soaring ball of fucking fire. It covers more distance than I’d planned, slowly crackling just inches from Nala’s body and I push her out of the way of the blast. Fire grazes my shoulder blade as I follow after Nala, stooping down and lifting her in a fireman’s carry. I stumble toward the back of the room and slip out of the exit, turning just before the door closes to give the bitch with the fire a one fingered salute, a glare, and an annoying little grin of achievement.
Pushing my legs as fast as I can, I make it outside the doors of the Lifeless League house. Gently, I set Nala down on the sidewalk.
I try to process everything that happened as my time winds down. My shoulder hurts like a bitch and I can feel each throb of my heartbeat in my fingertips. My shirt is ruined and I glance up at the building that used to be my home. All my shit is inside of that house, everything I own, and yet I can’t go back in to get it. No material object is as important as my life.
Fuck.
I breath heavily as my time ticks down to the my last few seconds of freedom. I don’t know what to do with Nala, but it almost feels wrong to leave her here… a sitting duck for whoever comes out that door next.
Three. Two. Ding, ding, ding. My time is up.
Blinking rapidly, Nala looks up from her perch on the ground.
“What… what happened?” Her eyebrows furrow and I roll my eyes at how innocent she appears. A damsel in fucking distress. What does that make me? The knight in shining armor? Yeah… no.
I can barely save myself here.
“You might want to get out here. I got us out, but the angry mob will be heading our way any second.” I anxiously look back at the house. “Good luck.” I start to walk away.
“He’s not going to let you go, you know.” She tells me as she gets to her feet.
“I know.” I don’t even turn around.
“I can help you.”
Sighing, I spin.
“I don’t need any help.” I don’t need friends. I don’t need you, Nala.
“You can’t trust the marks you were sent to kill.” She cocks her head to the side, studying my reaction. I’m surprise she knows even that much about my mission.
Narrowing my eyes at her, I respond with Rory’s words bouncing around inside my head, “Lesson one, trust no one.”
She pops her hands on her hips and huffs with frustration. “You really are stubborn.” The way she says it makes me think she’s talked about me with someone else in the past. No one at the Lifeless house actually knows me except for Armond. Well, that used to be true, at least. Now everyone in the Lifeless house knows of “Hart”. It’s just one more reason why I’m not safe there. Assassins like to stay in the background. None of us like being in the light. None of us enjoy being the center of attention. Except Armond. It’s a curious thought. It’s the difference between those who bolster power, and those who wield it.
