A near-armyof men and women waits on the other side of the corridor. All of the men are tall and burly. All are sporting weapon belts carrying blades. In addition, I catch flashes of short, sharp claws on their hands. But it’s the gray wings resembling rock that give them away. Each tip of their wings has a claw that looks as merciless as a dagger.
They’re gargoyles.
The women among them are stunning. They’re beautiful and far more petite than the men. They’re also wearing harnesses filled with weaponry, which I have no doubt they know how to use.
This is a clan of mercenaries, and they’re ready for my arrival.
I will only have a small element of surprise and I plan on making the most of it.
Stepping right up to the edge of the corridor, I extend my claws and take a few deep breaths. I focus myself while I plot a path through the room, taking note of the small gaps and tiny vulnerabilities. I imagine that being hit with a gargoyle fist will be similar to being hit by the male assassin, and I plan on avoiding both fists and blades.
With a final roll of my shoulders and a step back to give me speed, I prepare to enter the gargoyle’s den.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Imove fast.
Leaping from the corridor and running at full speed, my arms pumping, I aim for the biggest guy on my right, using his body like a ramp and his shoulder like a springboard before the other gargoyles can even react to my presence.
They probably expected me to saunter out and challenge them without any respect for their strength.
I’m not so foolhardy.
My goal is to evade and get past them.
But they aren’t about to make it easy for me.
As I leap from the first gargoyle’s shoulders into the gap I plotted, the gargoyles are already reacting.
I don’t know why they carry so many blades because their wing daggers are incredibly efficient, slicing through the air on my right and my left fast enough to cut across my back and gut me at the same time.
Evading them means dropping and rolling, and I really didn’t want to be on the floor where they could easily kick me.
Although…
I ram my claws into the calf of the incoming gargoyle on my left before I throw myself upward, twisting and dancing through the next space, then up another gargoyle’s body before I somersault through the air, kicking hard off another’s head and shoulders before landing and clawing another’s arm. I meant the last as a defensive blow to stop his oncoming blade, but it happened too fast for me to fully retract my claws, so I slice across his forearm badly enough for him to roar with pain.
It’s a sound that seems to shock the other gargoyles, freezing them for a second.
Fuck me.
Are they not accustomed to being hit and sliced up at all?
Possibly not.
The next man’s wing shoots in front of himself—an attempt to use it as a shield—as I charge straight for him, taking advantage of the pause around me to gain as much ground as I can.
I have no doubt that his wings would normally be an effective shield, just as dragon scales are normally impervious to all blades.
My claws slice right through his wing, but I withdraw them before they can shred his wing into ribbons. I don’t know if gargoyle wings can heal, and don’t want to permanently maim anyone.
I’d rather not leave grudges in my wake.
I catch the widening of the gargoyle’s brown eyes—maybe he’s surprised I didn’t go for the kill—before I spin into the gap behind him and charge through it.
Both of my hands shoot out, ready to raze across the chests of the gargoyles coming at me from each side.
They must not have missed what I did to their comrade’s wing because they leap backward as fast as they can.
