I should follow. Every instinct screams at me to leap after them, to get to Cosima. But Knight's still in there somewhere, locked in combat with Wraith, and someone needs to warn him about the incoming artillery.
Fucking hero complex. It's going to get me killed one day. I'm much better at playing the sexy villain, but lately, I find myself wanting to be something more.
I sprint toward the next car, vaulting through the door just in time to see Knight and Wraith locked in a death grip.
"Knight, stop!" I yell. "We need to get off this train! Now!"
He actually looks up at me, which is a miracle considering he's clearly deep in his berserker state. Before he can respond in whatever way he might, an explosion hits and the train rocks hard enough to send me flying into a wall.
The next thing I see when I come to is Knight and Wraith, still locked in combat, tumbling straight out through another massive hole in the side of the train. They disappear down the sand dunes in a tangle of fury.
"SHIT!"
BOOOOOOOM.
The train rocks harder. This explosion was close enough that I feel the heat wash over my face. The world tilts sideways, metal screaming as the car tears itself apart. One moment I'm standing, the next I'm airborne, flung out into the desert like a ragdoll.
The impact drives every ounce of air from my lungs. Sand fills my mouth, nose, eyes. My ears ring with a high-pitched whine that drowns out everything else. For a moment, blessed darkness takes me.
When consciousness returns, it brings pain. Every fucking joint feels like it's been professionally worked over with a hammer. I blink sand from my eyes, trying to focus through the haze. The train is already hanging halfway off the tracks, twisted metal groaning under its own weight.
Where is everyone? Where isshe?
I stagger to my feet, the world spinning sickeningly. My usually impeccable balance is shot to hell, but I force myself forward. One foot in front of the other. Find Cosima. Make sure she's safe. Everything else is secondary.
"Cosima!" My voice cracks on her name. "Geo! Even you, Nikolai, you insufferable bastard!"
The desert swallows my words. Nothing but wind and the distant creak of the dying train answers me. I stumble through the sand, searching frantically among the dunes and scattered underbrush. She has to be here somewhere. Has to be safe. The alternative is unthinkable.
A bullet whizzes past my ear, so close I feel the displaced air. It slams into a palm tree behind me with a meaty thunk. Pure instinct takes over. I spin, drawing my gun in one smooth motion, firing in the direction the shot came from.
The sound of my shots echoes off the cliffs, but there's no cry of pain, no body falling. Instead, a manic laugh like a jackal's call reaches me. It bounces off the rocky walls, impossible to pinpoint.
My head throbs, vision still swimming from the blast. I squeeze off a few more rounds, trying to track that nightmare sound. The laughter cuts off abruptly, replaced by a voice that makes my blood run cold.
"You're good." The words carry a distinct Vrissian accent, smooth as poisoned honey. "I'm not sure I'd agree you're the fastest gun in the Outer Reaches, but good."
Valek. Of fucking course it's Valek.
"Come out and try me when I'm not shellshocked, you fucking weasel," I grit out, scanning the rocks for any sign of movement.
The desert plays tricks with sound, bouncing his voice off every surface until he could be anywhere. My finger hovers over the trigger, ready to fire at the first hint of white hair.
An engine roars to life behind me. I whirl around just in time to see Valek tearing toward me on a motorcycle, white scarfstreaming behind him like a banner. In the harsh sunlight, dressed all in white, he looks like death personified. A pale rider come to collect.
The knife in his hand catches the light as he bears down on me. "You know how this ends, pretty boy. Save us both the trouble and die quietly."
I dive to the side, rolling through the sand as the bike roars past. Gravel and dirt spray in its wake, stinging my skin. Before I can fully regain my footing, Valek's already turning, coming back for another pass.
This time, he abandons the bike mid-charge, launching himself at me like a fucking panther. We collide hard, going down in a tangle of limbs. His knife whistles past my face, close enough that I feel the wind of its passage. My gun goes flying, lost somewhere in the sand.
We grapple desperately, each trying to gain the upper hand. Valek's slightly stronger than me, but I'm faster. More flexible. I use every dirty trick the wasteland ever taught me, going for eyes, throat, balls. Anything to survive.
Somehow, I manage to get a hand on my backup piece while he's on top of me, pinning me down and straining for the chance to saw off my head with that dagger. It's a small pistol I keep tucked against my ribs for emergencies exactly like this. I jam it against his thigh, since that's the only thing I can reach, and pull the trigger without hesitation.
Blood immediately soaks through his white pants, but Valek doesn't even flinch. Just grins down at me with those pale eyes, knife still dangerously close to my throat.
"Impressive," he purrs, like I've done something clever rather than shot him. "Fewer than three people have ever gotten a shot on me. I'll make sure they put it on your tombstone."
