They’re already on me, and they work in a unison that snatches the air from my chest.
The woman’s hand flies toward me, palm flat, while the man circles to the side. If their intention is to contain me, then I can see how they’re trying to make it happen. She will knock me off-balance. He will pin me from the side.
I have a heartbeat to react.
With a sharply indrawn breath, I focus on my left and the small space they left open.
Spinning out of the path of the woman’s strike, I leap into the clearing.
It’s better here without the bench at my back. More space to move.
I expect them to come right back at me and I’m surprised when they both seem to miss a beat.
Now behind the bench and closest to the man, James is still reaching out his hand for me. “Come with me, Veda!”
His gaze passes wildly around the clearing, and, despite the very short space between him and the male assassin, James doesn’t focus on him.
It takes me a moment to wonder if…
He can’t see them?
Both the man and the woman have straightened, an alarmed glance passing between them as I focus directly on them.
It seems to confirm my theory.
They don’t stop.
The air around me bursts to life with streams of power, beating against me like the wind as they come at me once more. Both of them at the same time.
The man uses the bench as a launching pad, gaining air and coming down on me, preparing to hammer me with a fist from that height. The woman comes in beneath the arc of his trajectory, crouching and sweeping her legs as if to topple me from my feet.
I leap and dart left, narrowly avoiding both of them, but I’m not prepared to let them get away with it.
I kick out as I leap, my right foot hitting the man squarely on the shoulder as he comes down, giving me a platform that allows me to push myself farther away from both of them.
He’s knocked off-balance, and her leg swishes harmlessly through the leafy forest floor.
I land at a crouch and quickly rise back to my feet as they exchange another alarmed glance.
So far, they haven’t spoken a word—not to me, or to each other, or to James or Rebella, for that matter—but now the woman strides toward me on her own, her right fist aimed for my face.
Her voice is controlled even as she punches at me. “It’s clear you can see us,” she says. “Are you a fury?”
I’m too busy avoiding her fist to really consider her question. “Huh?”
“Are you a fury?” she asks again, her tone harder this time.
A glance at Rebella—whoisa fury—tells me that Rebella is following our movements around the clearing, her posture clearly indicating that she wants to get between us. At the same time, James has backed away from the bench, his focus now on the ground, as if he’s following the movement of the leafy debris we’re kicking up with our feet. I guess that’s one way to track what you can’t see.
But if Rebella can see the assassins, that would explain why the woman asked me if I’m a fury.
I duck the woman’s next fist and anticipate her follow-up kick, deftly evading her attacks while steering clear of the male assassin, who has moved toward the middle of the clearing and watches us intently.
“No,” I say, speaking quickly as I anticipate the woman’s next moves. “I’m not a fury.”
Well, actually, I wouldn’t know. Halle sidestepped, telling me about my mother’s parents earlier. A move that I shouldn’t have let her get away with, now that I think about it.
“Then what are you?” the woman demands to know as she keeps coming at me, her fists and feet moving increasingly fast. Every few seconds, she aims a hit at my face, but it’s a plucking movement, as if she’s trying to remove my blindfold.
