Laughter. “That’s one way to put it. Can you get out?”
I check around myself again. Nobody’s paying any attention to me. The fat guard is back to eyeing the girl and there are about twenty slaves separating me and the next guard down.“I’ll do my best.”
I shrink my ankles and feet to mimic a child’s, then step out of my manacles.
“Hey, asshole,” I shout at the fat guard. He whirls around to glare at me, his eyes two angry slits. “Catch me if you can.” I spin around and dart for the nearest cross section. Shouts rise behind me, just as I turn the corner. Hopefully, that means he’s after me and not that someone tried to step in and slow him down.
I chance a glance behind and there he is gunning for me. I pick up my pace, squeeze into another, much smaller underdeveloped section of tunnel, push my back up against the wall, and wait. He flies around the corner and right past me. After a few feet, he stops, and realizing he’s been tricked, spins around. Too late.
I swing the pickax, and it cracks through his forehead with a wet, ghastly crunch. His eyes wide with surprise—guess he didn’t expect a pickax to the face today—he crumples to the floor.
Working fast, I shed my shirt and swap it out for his uniform shirt and coat. No time for the pants. I flip him onto his back, then take a breath and hold it, ignoring the pain as my bones shift and flesh swells until I’m an exact copy of the man in front of me.
“Sorry about this,” I say to the dead man just before I stomp on his face, hoping it just looks like a bit of rage-induced overkill and not somebody trying to cover his tracks.
The gods must be on my side today because I’ve barely stepped back from the corpse before two other guards round the corner, looking for us.
“Ahhhh,” I shout, pretending I haven’t noticed them yet. I clutch my wrist to my chest like I’d injured it and limp for the exit. One of the guards says something to me, and I just nod and groan. Dammit, I should have had Katya teach me some Ümbrian.
I head for the exit, moaning and crying like I’m in a lot of pain, before they can ask me anything else. The other guards barely give me a second glance as I limp through the tunnel and back to the slave camp. I keep glancing behind myself, expecting a horde of guards to come chasing after me at any moment, but nobody does. That was way too fucking easy. Something has to go wrong.
That’s when I see the guards standing sentinel on either side of the gate. Dammit. I really did not think this through. I run up to the nearest guard, cradling my hand and trying to pretend as though I’m crying, but the tears won’t come. His gaze volleys between me and the other guard. He asks me a question, and I hold up my hand and blubber something unintelligible as a reply. Brow furrowed, the guard moves closer and angles his head to get a better look at my hand.
He says something else that sounds like a bunch of gibberish to my ears. When I don’t respond, he says it again. I shake my head, hoping that will suffice, but then the male draws back, confusion plain on his face, and I know I’m done.
Fuck it.
I slam my fist into his face, then spin us both around while using my momentum to snap his neck.
The other guard has quickly caught on and draws his pistol, firing two shots into his buddy. I pull the gun from the dead fae’s belt and shoot, taking the other guard in the head and chest. He crashes to the ground. Just then, the gate starts to open. Fuck, I forgot about the guards on the other side. Still using the dead guy as a shield, I aim for the one on the right and shoot. He moves at the last second and my first shot misses completely, then I fire two more in quick succession into his chest. He goes down. I’ve taken too long though, and the other guard is rapidly firing off a series of shots, pelting the poor dead guy I’m holding in front of me. I, on the other hand, aim and shoot the fucker square between the eyes. I don’t wait to see him fall.
I drop the dead fae and run.
39
“Aemon, Aemon,”my mind screams.“Where are you?”
I race through the streets, weaving around and between—and when all else fails, barreling through—the fae going about their day. All pretense of being a regular citizen moving about the city is gone. He’s taking too long. We’re never going to make it back to the women in time.
“Where are you, gods dammit?”
I thought I heard him respond the first time I called for him, but it’s been dead silence since, and I’m starting to worry he didn’t hear me at all. What do I do then? Take over the minds of every guard in the slave camp, so I can grab him and get him out. Am I even powerful enough to do that? I sidestep a group of blood fae, grimacing as a sharp stone cuts into the sole of my foot. Ignoring the pain, I keep going. I don’t know if it’s the blood or simple urgency fueling me right now, but all my aches and pains and dizziness have disappeared, and my strength’s returned tenfold.I’m like an overfull kettle, the power raging through my body teetering on the brink of eruption.
A guard rounds a corner, and our eyes lock. I stop short, about to turn around, when his face morphs and, suddenly, it’s Aemon running toward me, a wide grin splitting his face. My heart sings. He heard me. He’s here. My legs start pumping with renewed vigor as I race to reach him. I must look insane, half-naked, wearing a male’s cloak and smiling like a fool as I plow through the bodies separating him from me. I can practically feel the space between us closing as we draw closer.
Then his expression changes, that smile turning to wide-eyed horror. He raises his arm, and he’s holding a pistol pointed straight at me. He’s shouting, but his voice is swallowed up by the din, and it takes me a moment to decipher the words his lips are forming. “Get down!”
I duck and spin around just in time to see the club coming at my head.
A flash of pain and everything goes black.
I lie on the cold, hard floor, my head aching so badly, I’m half convinced when I open my eyes, I’ll see my brain spilled across the marble. My eyelids glow red from what must be an extremely bright light shining down from above. That, in and of itself, is incentive enough for me to take a peek at my surroundings, butwhen I try, the light sears my vision like hot pokers being driven through the sockets.
I throw an arm over my head to shield my eyes and that’s when I feel it: warmth. The air is cool, yet I can feel warmth kissing my skin like… sunlight.
I bolt upright, eyes flying open. The movement sends a spike of stabbing pain through my skull. Blinking rapidly, I clutch my head, waiting for it to pass. When, at last, the pain begins to wane, I raise a hand to shield my eyes, and squinting, look up to find the sun shining like a warm and welcoming beacon above, and my heart leaps at the sight.
Until I realize, I’m looking at it through bars.
