Someone grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her. Caris shrieked in pain before slamming her foot down on the man’s instep and snapping her head back with a brutalness no high-society lady should know.
But the borders were a place only the strong survived, and the Eastern Basin wasn’t kind to those who didn’t know how to fight. Blaine heard the crunch of the man’s nose breaking even over the yelling of the crowd. Caris wrenched herself free, then turned and kneed the man in the balls. He fell to his knees, nose a bloody, crooked mess, no longer a threat.
Beyond Caris, in the dirty mirror over the bar, Blaine caught movement coming up behind him. He barely had time to jump aside and refrain from getting skewered like a beetle by the Blade’s knife.
Terilyn moved like a dancer, all fluid, unwasted motions that were deadly in their intensity. Blades were fanatics, dedicating their lives to the Twilight Star. Their existence was furiously denied by the Star Order out of Daijal, but denials meant nothing when one danced with a Blade.
Blaine jumped back to keep his stomach from being opened up, keeping his eyes on Terilyn and hoping to lead her away from Caris.
“My lady is always pleased when I bring her gifts. Your head will do this evening,” Terilyn said.
She’d ditched the cloak, fighting in the plum-colored suit that no one else in the pub could afford. Blaine raised his pistol and took aim, firing off a shot that didn’t find its target. But it hit someone, judging by the scream that cut through the smoky air. Blaine would feel bad about that—later—when the night was over.
If he lived that long.
Someone hooked their arm around his throat, squeezing tight. Blaine choked as his right arm with the pistol was yanked upward. Fingers dug into the tendons of his wrist, sending shooting pain down his arm and through his hand. His fingers uncurled on their own, and the pistol fell to the ground.
Terilyn dodged forward, arm extended, the blade of her knife glinting in the lamplight. Blaine frantically kicked his feet against her midsection, shoving her backward, but not fast enough to stop the tip of her knife from tearing through the veil.
The world melted, color bleeding all around him, and he couldn’t even blame it on the arm choking him out. Another smoke bomb went off, the distraction sending people clamoring for the exit and the clean air out on the street. Blaine would’ve given anything right about then to simply be able to breathe.
The man holding him grunted harshly as wooden pieces of a chair rained down around Blaine’s face. The arm around his throat slid away, as did the man. Blaine ripped himself free, gasping for air. Twisting around, he grabbed the man’s arm and shoved the taller, heavier man into a nearby table. Both the man and the table pitched over, getting in the way of Terilyn.
Lore tossed the remnants of the chair aside and yanked at Blaine’s arm. “Your face is showing.”
Blaine locked eyes with Terilyn, and he knew there was nowhere in the city they could go right then where she wouldn’t follow. Blades were known for murder above all else. Giving up the chase wasn’t an option.
She’d keep coming, and they couldn’t lead her to the places where the Clockwork Brigade existed in secret.
They couldn’t lead her to Caris.
Blaine didn’t see a way out of the predicament before them. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Caris did.
Starfire exploded between them, catching the tipped-over table alight with white-gold flames. The heat was enough to make Blaine throw an arm over his face to shield his watering eyes. People all around him yelled in shock, many of them rushing for the exit. He squinted through the heat shimmer in the air, searching frantically for Caris.
“Over there,” Lore said.
She left his side, hurrying around tables and scattered chairs as the starfire grew with a rapidness that was dangerous. He couldn’t see Terilyn through the starfire, and he wondered if she’d been immolated.
He could only hope.
Lore’s shout reached his ears. “I need your help!”
The pub was rapidly emptying as starfire ate away at the wooden structure. He vaulted a table and ran to where Lore struggled to haul a swaying Caris off her knees. She was white-faced even through the veil, and her outstretched hands trembled violently for a moment longer before she clenched them into fists. The starfire flickered, becoming smaller, until all that remained was scorched wood. In its wake, Terilyn was nowhere to be seen, and there was no ash on the floor that meant a body had burned.
Caris’ eyes rolled up, and she passed out in Lore’s arms, causing the older woman to stagger. She shot Blaine a frantic look. When he reached them, he picked up Caris and started for the door.
“We’ll head to the catacombs. Can you lead us to a neighborhood where we can hot-wire a motor carriage?” Blaine asked as they hurried out of the pub and into scattered chaos on the street.
“Yes, but wouldn’t it be better to stay below?”
“I can’t carry Caris across the city, and we need to move fast.”
Lore took the lead while Blaine hefted Caris higher in his arms as they ran away from the smoking pub. He scanned the rooftops and the crowd around them, but he saw no sign of the Blade.
He doubted, though, that was the last they’d ever see of her.
Eleven
