Jinneth and Keffa aid me, with my large mother barreling through people and the slender Iron Sister using a cane to bat them away.
“He locked you in his house!Dozensof you!” yells another stranger with a grimy beard.
The last thing we need is to see Kep get hanged over a miscommunication, when all he’d tried to do washelpthe Sisters.
“He didn’t lock us anywhere, you fool,” my mother growls. “Now step aside and let us pass, before I make you all sorry!”
Seeing an elder citizen make demands has more of an effect than my words. Looking slightly ashamed, the people begin to part. We use the slim opening to rush out onto the main roads. No longer marching and trying to not make a scene, we churn our legs and run.
Not how I had planned this!
The wind is strong this twilight. It whips my hair around as we move, ducking from the main thoroughfare to an alleymouth, out the other side, turning corners—nope, not that street where the Bronzes are lurking and looking for trouble.
We don’t beeline for the Firehold because I worry we’ll meet opposition on the way. Instead, we get away from the main crowd before gathering our breaths and making sure we have everyone with us.
We hit the next street, and we’re getting closer. I can already taste the warmth of the Firehold’s ragtag hearths and hot bathing spring. The copious meals these girls can have alongside orphans and ex-slaves not much different than them.
I start to smile.
The first arrow takes a young girl directly next to me in the center of her chest. We’re just about to round a street corner when the buzz of the arrow runs past my ear, slams into her chest, and sends her sprawling in a sharp gasp and spray of blood.
Our party freezes, shocked. A pool of red spreads from the girl’s inert form on the debris-covered ground. Another arrow flies, sticking into a shoulder and eliciting a sharp cry as the older woman behind me spins.
Then a volley of them, pinging against walls and shopfronts, taking down another Sister between the eyes, missing more.
“Take cover!” I scream.
Girls squeal and wail, ducking and hiding anywhere they can—behind crates, barrels, under a pile of rubbish in the middle of the road. Random passersby see the carnage and only make it worse, shouting to no one and scattering from the streets. Doors slam, chaos ensues, and I believe it’s the disorganized mayhem that saves us from total annihilation.
Shadows descend from the sides of the walls in front of me, down the nearest building, tossing aside bows for more personal and intimate swords and daggers.
The faces of the hooded figures are pale, gaunt. My blood goes cold. I draw my swords with clammy hands.
The vampire assassins rush to meet me—there before I’ve blinked or planned or drawn breath. There are three, close together, low to the ground to avoid detection. The first of the bunch bares long fangs and comes at me with two daggers.
I backpedal, growling like an animal and falling into my battle stance, slanting his piercing attacks aside and sidestepping so I can get better footing.
My reckless actions may finally be my end.
There’s no way I can defeat a vampire—much less a trio of them—especially when I need to try and protect the Chained Sisters at the same time.
Some of the girls don’t get the memo to hide and save themselves. The older women scream from their hideaways and come at the vampires with anything they have. Daggers, clubs, bare fists if they have to. They might be trained for martial combat, some of them, but they are no match for the prowess of the pale assassins.
I watch two fall in rapid succession, slashes of blood spilling on the uneven cobblestones and brick walls.
“No!” I cry, and spin to get away from my attacker, heading for the nearest knot of vampires and Chained Sisters.
Jinneth heaves a heavy rock from the ground, slamming it into the side of the assassin on my tail, and manages to throw him off-balance. He skitters aside, dropping one dagger, before turning his eyes crimson on my mother.
My heart slams against my ribs. I’m torn between the brave Sisters who are trying to protect the younglings from getting systematically cut down, and my mother, who is trying to distract and divert attention from the rest of her flock.
How quickly Jinneth has become a stalwart champion of the female rebels.
The vampire thrown off his stride charges at Jinneth with his dagger blurring—
Met by a clanging sword that comes out of nowhere.
It’s wielded by Iron Sister Keffa, drawn from inside her cane. The elderly, ancient woman’s silver hair halos her face as she bares her teeth and shows a side to her I’ve never seen.
