I scream and kick, thrashing against the grip, but it only tightens.
“Stop moving!” a voice roars, and the sound cuts through my panic like a blade.
My entire body goes taut. “Mal … Malachi?”
He grunts in response. I twist, trying to see him, but he has me pinned against his side like a sack of grain, my back pressed to his ribs, my feet dangling uselessly.
“I said stop moving!” He whirls us around, and my scream dies in my throat.
Three pairs of glowing eyes hover in the darkness before us.
“What are you doing?” My voice is raw, shredded from screaming. “You need to run!”
“Shut up,” he seethes, and begins chanting under his breath.
The words are foreign, ancient, a language I almost recognize but can't quite name. He’s casting. I catch a glimpse of movement as he raises his other arm. A massive sword arcs into view, the blade longer than my body. Red and gold glyphs blaze to life along the steel, pulsing brighter with every word he speaks, until the weapon is glowing.
The air crackles with energy, sharp and electric, lifting the hairs on my arms and rattling my teeth. Then Malachi surges forward, toward the creatures, and my stomach drops.
I squeeze my eyes shut. An inhuman shriek splits the night. Then another. Then silence.
He pivots sharply and marches us off the bridge. When I open my eyes and look around, the creatures are gone. The streetlamps burn steady and warm. The fog has thinned to wisps. I sag against him, trembling.
“Did you kill them?” My voice comes out hoarse, barely a whisper.
“What do you think?”
The sharpness in his tone makes me bristle. “You can put me down now.”
He scoffs. “And risk having to chase you again? Not interested.”
“What?” I frown and try twisting again. “You just saved my life! Why would I run?”
“I don't know, Ada, because you're a fucking menace!”
“I …” I blink, momentarily at a loss for words. “Maybe so, but I'm not an idiot!”
“That's highly debatable,” he mutters.
My spine goes rigid. Menace, I can accept. Reckless, fine. But an idiot? Absolutely not.
“You act like I wanted to be attacked! I just hap?—”
He drops me without warning. I stumble, throw my hands out to catch myself, and hiss when my raw palms slam into the wall. I shove off the stone and whirl to face him, fists clenched despite the pain.
“What is wrong with you?”
“What's wrong with me?” He yanks his hood down and glares at me, golden eyes blazing. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
I open my mouth to respond and stop.
The scowling man staring back at me looks nothing like the brute I met earlier. The thick beard is gone, trimmed to light stubble that reveals a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. His hair isshorter, no longer wild but swept back from his face. He wears a navy blue cloak now, gold armor gleaming at his shoulders, a matching tunic molding to the broad planes of his chest. He cleaned up. He cleaned up well.
“Not that I mind you staring, but you'll have plenty of time to ogle me inside.”
My eyes snap back to his face. “Ogle? The last time I saw you, I almost mistook you for a talking yak! I'm just making sure you're the same person.”
He presses his lips together and cocks his head. “Right.”
