“William, William, William.”
The raceto his office was a blur. A blur of desperate attempts to convince myself that this was insane. Will was fine. There was no world in which a bird was the spirit of my late husband, warning me that the man I’d fallen in love with—quite against my will—was in danger.
I had almost managed it, to believe I was insane, when I heard thethwackand grunt.
Will’s grunt.
The bird stopped midflight just before I rounded the corner alley beside the office, and I nearly crashed into it. Anotherthunk-grunt. I tried to pass the bird, but it wouldn’t allow it. Instead, it flitted toward my leg.
All confusion, I tried once more but it flew back in front of me, blocking my path, before returning to my skirts, tugging at them with its little beak.My dagger.
“Thank you,” I whispered, then winced at another grunt while I crouched to pull the knife out. Armed now, I was allowed to turn the corner, the knife tucked tight against my skirts.
And once again, I walked into hell.
Will was broken and bleeding on the ground as a man kicked him in the ribs. Another watched with a long wooden board in hand. And to make the situation worse still, a small pillar of smoke rose from straw bundled against the building.
The man rained another kick on Will, this time to his stomach, and I couldn’t hold back my startled gasp of his name.
Will turned toward me, blood streaming from a cut on his brow. Too much blood. His head drooped, crashing to the pavement as he lost consciousness.
My outburst hadn’t been missed by the other men. They turned, advancing toward me. A chirp at my side drew my gaze to the broken milk crate. The very one I stood on, listening outside William’s office all those weeks ago. I grabbed a sharp piece in my free hand. It wouldn’t be much use against the longer, heavier plank, but two weapons were better than one.
The first man had reached me and a sick sense of familiarity crashed over me. The taller man from that horrid night.
“Not so brave without your umbrella are you?” The scent of his breath, far too close, sent a wave of nausea through me. Unfortunately, I needed him close, closer even, if I was to use my weapons.
“Where is your friend? Still recovering from that umbrella?” Another step. I kept the wall at my back. It left no retreat but no room for an attack from behind either.
“You killed him, you spiteful shrew.”
“Oh dear… Did you want to join him?” He pulled his arm back, ready to swing the board and I ducked, thrusting my piece of crate toward his privates with all my strength. He turned atthe last moment and it glanced off his hip, but his blow missed too.
With my knife hand, I slammed down into his foot, cutting through his boot with ease. His shout echoed through the alley. Could no one hear this? Why was no one coming? I yanked it out, earning another yell.
Just as I heard a shaky groan behind the men.
Will stumbled to his feet. He distracted the other man, who turned his attention back to Will’s prone form.No!
A fist found my throat and squeezed hard enough to bruise when the man yanked me up, up, up, off the pavement. My feet kicked uselessly, half a foot above the ground. He tightened his hand. My breath grew weaker by the second.
Black dots filled my vision, I was so close to unconsciousness that it had to be a delusion—the flit of wings past my ear.
Suddenly, the man dropped me and I crashed to my knees with great heaving gulps.
The damn bird.
The ridiculous little bird attacked the man’s face with a ferocity it shouldn’t have been capable of, pecking and diving and squawking. The man flailed at it, swatting furiously.
I stumbled to my feet just in time to see a hit land and the little bird flung to the ground. Frenzied violence ripped through my chest at the sight, and I reared back to slam my shin into the man’s groin.
He collapsed in a moaning, whimpering heap, and I gave another kick to his prone form for good measure.
The sound of Will’s gasp drew my attention, and I saw the other man advancing on him. Worse still was noxious black smoke and flames blowing up from the straw.
“Fire! Fire! Fire!” The scream ripped from me on instinct as I clambered on the other man’s sweaty back, knife to his throat, still shouting.
Seconds—it only took seconds for the people, the very ones feigning ignorance of the fight in the alley, to respond to my cries. They swarmed with buckets and water like cockroaches.
