Li Han suddenly looked right in Christian’s direction and then bolted down an alley.
Christian gave chase. A city truck rumbled by at the speed of a snail, generating enough noise that he had to block it out. Once he reached the alley, he passed a dumpster and noticed small drops of blood in the snow. Footprints led to the connecting street, and the instant he turned right, something hard struck him on the back. Pieces of wood fell at his feet.
“You infernal little shitebag!”
The Mage must have set a trap, turning right before circling back from across the street so he could sneak up behind him.
Li Han held a sharp piece of wood from the furniture he’d smashed. There were stacks of trash on the curb that the city hadn’t collected, including dilapidated furniture.
“It may not be impalement wood,” Christian pointed out.
The Mage gave a confident grin. “Let’s find out.”
Christian smashed his hand through a large display window, breaking the glass into sharp pieces. He snapped off a large shard from the edge and held it in his hand. “I wager I can disembowel you faster than you can strike. Your battery’s drained,Mage. Tonight you’re going to meet your maker.”
“I am Li Han, descendant of the Han dynasty. I’ve seen many wars, fought many foes. I have no fear because the fates are on my side.”
“Well, color me impressed. I’m Christian Poe, the man who doesn’t give a shite about your dynasty. If I had a nickel for every man I’ve killed who wasted his last breath spouting about how the gods or fates were on his side, I’d be a rich man. Now get your arse over here and die.”
The Mage flashed around him and took a stab. Christian ducked out of the way. When a truck rolled by and honked its horn, it reminded him they needed to take this off the street.
Li Han got close enough that Christian grabbed his arm and hurled him through the open window. Stepping into the safety of a dark store, Christian looked around at the white dishes and silverware. The Mage had retreated to the center of the store, searching for a place to go.
Christian lifted a meat cleaver and gave a sinister smile. “It looks like the fates are onmyside tonight.” He threw the blade with a quick, hard motion. The cleaver didn’t just strike the Mage in the chest—it buried itself so deep that only an inch of the handle was visible.
Li Han gasped and staggered backward before flashing out of sight.
Christian grabbed a knife, the glass shard still in his left hand. “I can hear your shallow breathing, you blundering eejit.” He stalked forward and knocked a shelf of glasses completely over so he could see better. The shop had too many tall shelves going all the way to the back, but it wasn’t hard to pinpoint the man’s location in the candle section.
Christian winced when a glass votive knocked him in the skull. The ancient Mage cowered behind a long table filled with them and kept pitching one after another in his direction. He hadn’t pulled the cleaver out of his chest—probably because he couldn’t.
“You’re not much without your guards, are you? People like you never are,” Christian said, drawing from experience. “Men with guards are incapable of protecting themselves from certain death. You may have been a great warrior once, but you suffer from combat atrophy.” He knocked away another candleholder, the glass breaking instantly when he struck it.
“How much am I worth?” Li Han asked, his right arm hanging against his side. He was only throwing with his left hand. Perhaps he had a severed muscle. “I can double that.”
Now that was a laugh.
With Vampire strength, Christian threw his knife. The Mage never saw it coming. The blade ripped through his abdomen and exited through the other side.
He groaned, leaning over the table and staggering to the right. “How much?”
Christian lifted a timer shaped like a green frog off the shelf. He twisted it, the ticking sound pleasing to his ears. “You can’t afford me.”
“Then who betrayed me? I must know. Let my spirit rest in peace with answers.”
Christian drew closer and watched the Mage struggling for breath, undoubtedly in agony. If he chose to remove the blade in his chest—even if he could—he would bleed out quickly. While it wouldn’t kill him, he certainly wasn’t going anywhere until morning. And with snow showers predicted, healing wasn’t in the forecast.
“I’m afraid you’ll never know.” Christian set the frog timer on the last shelf to his right. “It was an anonymous tip. Perhaps one of your cronies wasn’t getting paid enough.”
“They are loyal—all willing to die for me. Impossible.”
“Your friend Ivar is pushing up daisies. Just one more to go.”
He gave a bewildered look. “Ivar?”
“Aye. Tall Chitah, bad taste in knickknacks. Shouldn’t be hard to find your other friend since we have a photograph of his face.”
“Every man has a price. What is yours? Don’t pretend to be honorable.”
