Bones shifts his weight, like he can tell the moment is quickly coming when this standoff morphs into battle. I shove away every unhelpful emotion whirring through me and calm the need to jump haphazardly into the fray.
Six against one isn’t an impossible clash, especially not for Bones, but I need to figure out how to make it six against two and do it in a way that gives us the advantage. Large hoods bathe the features of the cloaked figures in shadow. I can’t make out any details or faces no matter how hard I try. The thick clouds blanketing the sky part, letting the soft light of the half-moon they’ve been hiding escape. It catches on the lush, light gray fabric of the protective cloaks, and it’s as though twinkling stars have been sewn into the hems as they sparkle and preen for the moon itself. Something about that calls to me, scratches at my mind as though I should know it, but the wall of nothing in my head is as impenetrable as it always is.
“You don’t have to die brutally tonight, Scorpion,” one of the cloaked figures declares, his voice a silky tenor that rings with authority. “Lay down your weapons, accept the inevitable, and I’ll make it quick.”
I can’t tell which one is speaking, but the fact that they’re negotiating instead of attacking outright is telling. There’s an arrogance to their words and their attack formation. Taking in the way that they stand and seeing the glint of the sword tips just visible past the front seam of their star-speckled cloaks, I suspect the audacity radiating off of them is probably earned. They’re used to being the biggest threat in a room.
They obviously haven’t met the Scorpions yet.
As I watch, I also notice a few hoods turning in the direction of the dead ghost on the ground. Whoever they were, they’re now lying face down in a pool of blood, but I can’t see more than that beyond the cloaked figures in the way. The death, or maybe it’s more the loss of another warrior needed to go up against Bones, is clearly unsettling the cloaked collective. They seem to be waiting for some kind of upper hand or maybe reinforcements. Either way, they’re not willing to charge in blindly right now and risk losing anyone else to Bones’s punishing skill.
“Brutally, quickly…” Bones shrugs. “Makes no difference to me. It’s all death in the end. The least you can do is show me your face before you try to shove a blade through me. What are you hiding from?”
Bones’s taunt floats on the tense air, and a few unimpressed huffs sound off around him.
“This would be easier for you if we were afraid of you, Scorpion. We’re not,” the leader jeers, and then the group does the last thing I expect them to do.
They pull back their hoods.
Hatus was wrong.
Perhaps fear tinted his eyes or time leeched the color from his recollections, but it isn’t a group of ghosts standing in the middle of the empty market. No wraiths surround my Scorpion, mocking what they think is his certain death. All I see are answers to every question I’ve ever had about where I come from and who I really am. Keys are dangling in front of me, but all I need is one to free what’s been sealed in my mind for too long.
Their hair isn’t white. It’s a peculiar shade of not quite white, nor light gray, or even light blue. It’s somehow all of those colors, a hue I have no name for despite all the times I’ve run my fingers through my own locks and wondered what word could possibly capture such an unusual mix of pigments. Their eyes aren’t simply gray, they’re a familiar bright silver. A color I’ve studied in every reflection of myself I’ve ever seen. My skin was once pale and creamy just like theirs is now, and I want to rip the glamour from my body and demand they tell me who they are, because I am too.
The leader’s hand twitches. He sends a silent signal to the rest of the group, and the air around them grows taut. As much as it pains me, I know if I want to save Bones, there’s no time for questions, there’s only time for action. A month ago, I would have taken what I wanted with no qualm. But now everything has changed. Iwantthe keys to my past. Iwantanswers. But Ineeda future with my Scorpions more.
It’s an easy choice.
One handed, I unclip my ax from my back as I spring from the roof. My scorpion tail dagger is still gripped in my other palm as I land behind two of the largest males in the circle. I eviscerate all thoughts of who these men might be or why they look like me. It doesn’t matter. They’re standing in the way of what’s mine, and that’s only ever going to mean one thing to me—they’re dead.
Before the noise of my landing can even bounce off the walls surrounding us, I shove a dagger between the ribs of one male and then swing my ax at the neck of the other. The fae’s head goes flying with such force that it slams against the dove gray chest plate of the smirking leader. He wobbles back in shock as the head tumbles to the ground. A pained bellow joins other surprised gasps and shouts. The noise fills up the empty market, making everything sound more frenzied and hectic. I pull my blade free from the chest of the fae I stabbed and step past the falling headless body that clears a direct path to Bones.
“Careful, Beasty,” Bones cautions as I press my back to his and join him in staring down the remaining enemy.
“Yes, Bones,” I chime back, and his deep laugh fills the circle of threats around us.
“Did you justyes, dearme?” Bones asks, amused.
“Did you just tell me to becareful?” I counter, a wide smile stretching across my mouth.
“What in the festering realms is going on? Who the fuck are you?” the leader demands, as though the shock of my presence has fried his good sense.
He should be attacking us, not demanding answers. It’s five against two now and one of them is injured. They should be running or trying to catch us by surprise, like I just did.
“There are only three,” a statuesque female on Bones’s side of the diminishing circle insists. “Innis confirmed that they were keeping the other two distracted while we caught this one.”
My eyes narrow at her words, and I itch to make her eat them. Hopefully, Bones is as tired of the jaw wagging and posturing as I am.
“Surprise…you’re all dead,” I croon, and then Bones and I do what they should have done in the first place.
We attack.
“Keep one alive!” I call over my shoulder as I charge.
Bones grunts a confirmation, and then all I see are the two males in front of me, both of them now marked for death. Steel sparks against steel as blows viciously rain down. We spin and strike, lunge and prance, lost to death’s dance as we dart in and spring back, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of a deadly weapon or the clip of an elbow or knee. When they didn’t engage like they should have, I’d started to question if these bastards were as good as they thought they were.
They are.
