Cold Burn of Magic
Page 11
“Felix!” Ashley screamed, drawing her sword.
She charged at the mystery man, who pointed his finger at her, a clear signal that he wanted her out of the way. Two of the other men rushed past him to engage her.
Ashley raised her sword and whirled first one way, then the other, lashing out at the men with smooth, precise strikes and holding them at bay.
Devon’s eyes widened with surprise for a second before his gaze sharpened, coolly assessing the situation—and the danger. He glanced down at the counter, as if he was thinking about picking up one of the perfume bottles and using it as a weapon. After a few seconds, he glared at the glass, as though the bottles had disappointed him by being too delicate and fragile to hurt someone with. A determined look settled on his face, and Devon stepped forward and opened his mouth—
A third man came up on his blind side and wrapped his hand around Devon’s throat, squeezing tight and cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. I thought the man might go ahead and choke Devon to death, or snap his neck, but he stood there and maintained his grip.
Devon punched and punched the man, driving his fists into his attacker’s stomach over and over again, but the hard blows didn’t seem to bother the other man, and the guy kept his death grip on Devon’s throat. He must have had some sort of strength Talent that let him ignore punches like that, any one of which would have made another man let go and gasp for air.
Me? I stayed where I was. Not because I was shocked, frozen, or scared by what was happening, but because I had absolutely no plans to get involved. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero.
This seemed to be a dispute between the Families, an ambush assassination attempt that was probably in retaliation for something that someone else higher up on the food chain had done. Devon and Felix were just unlucky enough to have gotten caught in the middle of some Family feud, with Ashley along as collateral damage. It happened all the time in Cloudburst Falls. Folks like the Draconis were always plotting against the other Families, especially the ones they perceived as threats, or worse, competition for magic, money, and power.
Oh no. I didn’t want any part of this. My mom had been the bodyguard—not me. Time and time again, she had risked herself for some rich Family schmuck and had gotten little in return. And when she’d had problems, when she’d been the one in danger, when she’d needed protection, no one had helped her. No one had given a damn about her, despite all the times she had saved their miserable lives.
So, no, I wasn’t going to risk myself for these strangers—no way.
But then Devon looked at me.
His green eyes locked with my blue ones, and my soulsight kicked in, letting me feel his emotions—red-hot anger, soul-crushing guilt, stomach-churning fear. Not the usual feelings I would have expected in this situation. The guilt intrigued me. So did the fear, especially since it was for his friends instead of himself. Devon didn’t care what happened to him. He only wanted to get free so he could help Felix and Ashley.
Devon kept staring at me. He tried to croak out some word, but the guy choking him didn’t give him the chance.
“Quiet!” he hissed, shaking Devon and tightening his grip on his throat.
Devon’s gaze met mine again, even though he had to be seconds away from blacking out. I saw the silent, desperate plea in his eyes—and I felt his anger, guilt, and fear knife me right in the heart.
Damn it.
I pulled a throwing star from my belt and sent it flying. The weapon zipped across the pawnshop and sank into the guy’s right shoulder, making him howl with pain, let go of Devon, and, most important, drop his sword.
I grabbed another star from my belt and raced down the aisle, heading straight at the wounded man. He was so focused on the weapon sticking out of his shoulder that he never even looked up, so I sliced the edges of the second star across his stomach to get his attention. He threw back his head, bellowing even louder with pain and anger, but I was already pulling out the first star from his shoulder and moving forward for another strike.
Mortal, magick, or monster, there are certain areas that are particularly sensitive on anyone—eyes, throat, knees, groin. So that’s what I went for. I slammed my sneaker into the guy’s knee, putting all of my weight and strength behind the blow. Then, when he staggered forward, I rammed my knee into his groin. He was really screaming then.
The guy toppled to the floor, but I wasn’t done yet. I grabbed his sword from where it had fallen. Then I brought the weapon up, around, and down—straight into his heart.
He arched once and then went completely slack—dead.
I stopped long enough to hook my throwing stars back onto my belt and glance at Devon, who had managed to pull himself up onto his hands and knees.
“Are you okay?”
He gasped for air, so I took that as a yes.
By this point, Ashley, the bodyguard, had killed one of the guys and was fighting another, along with the mystery man. I tightened my grip on the dead guy’s sword and stepped forward to wade into the fight.
At least, I tried to.
The fourth and final guy, who’d been hanging back so far, stepped into the aisle in front of me. The overhead lights made his black, stubbly hair stand out like needles poking out of his skull. I recognized him—the leader of the three guards that had chased me across the rooftops last night. What was he doing here?
“Well, well, well,” he rumbled, grinning and showing me his crooked teeth. “If it isn’t the one who got away.”
“I thought you didn’t like carving up little girls.”
She charged at the mystery man, who pointed his finger at her, a clear signal that he wanted her out of the way. Two of the other men rushed past him to engage her.
Ashley raised her sword and whirled first one way, then the other, lashing out at the men with smooth, precise strikes and holding them at bay.
Devon’s eyes widened with surprise for a second before his gaze sharpened, coolly assessing the situation—and the danger. He glanced down at the counter, as if he was thinking about picking up one of the perfume bottles and using it as a weapon. After a few seconds, he glared at the glass, as though the bottles had disappointed him by being too delicate and fragile to hurt someone with. A determined look settled on his face, and Devon stepped forward and opened his mouth—
A third man came up on his blind side and wrapped his hand around Devon’s throat, squeezing tight and cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. I thought the man might go ahead and choke Devon to death, or snap his neck, but he stood there and maintained his grip.
Devon punched and punched the man, driving his fists into his attacker’s stomach over and over again, but the hard blows didn’t seem to bother the other man, and the guy kept his death grip on Devon’s throat. He must have had some sort of strength Talent that let him ignore punches like that, any one of which would have made another man let go and gasp for air.
Me? I stayed where I was. Not because I was shocked, frozen, or scared by what was happening, but because I had absolutely no plans to get involved. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero.
This seemed to be a dispute between the Families, an ambush assassination attempt that was probably in retaliation for something that someone else higher up on the food chain had done. Devon and Felix were just unlucky enough to have gotten caught in the middle of some Family feud, with Ashley along as collateral damage. It happened all the time in Cloudburst Falls. Folks like the Draconis were always plotting against the other Families, especially the ones they perceived as threats, or worse, competition for magic, money, and power.
Oh no. I didn’t want any part of this. My mom had been the bodyguard—not me. Time and time again, she had risked herself for some rich Family schmuck and had gotten little in return. And when she’d had problems, when she’d been the one in danger, when she’d needed protection, no one had helped her. No one had given a damn about her, despite all the times she had saved their miserable lives.
So, no, I wasn’t going to risk myself for these strangers—no way.
But then Devon looked at me.
His green eyes locked with my blue ones, and my soulsight kicked in, letting me feel his emotions—red-hot anger, soul-crushing guilt, stomach-churning fear. Not the usual feelings I would have expected in this situation. The guilt intrigued me. So did the fear, especially since it was for his friends instead of himself. Devon didn’t care what happened to him. He only wanted to get free so he could help Felix and Ashley.
Devon kept staring at me. He tried to croak out some word, but the guy choking him didn’t give him the chance.
“Quiet!” he hissed, shaking Devon and tightening his grip on his throat.
Devon’s gaze met mine again, even though he had to be seconds away from blacking out. I saw the silent, desperate plea in his eyes—and I felt his anger, guilt, and fear knife me right in the heart.
Damn it.
I pulled a throwing star from my belt and sent it flying. The weapon zipped across the pawnshop and sank into the guy’s right shoulder, making him howl with pain, let go of Devon, and, most important, drop his sword.
I grabbed another star from my belt and raced down the aisle, heading straight at the wounded man. He was so focused on the weapon sticking out of his shoulder that he never even looked up, so I sliced the edges of the second star across his stomach to get his attention. He threw back his head, bellowing even louder with pain and anger, but I was already pulling out the first star from his shoulder and moving forward for another strike.
Mortal, magick, or monster, there are certain areas that are particularly sensitive on anyone—eyes, throat, knees, groin. So that’s what I went for. I slammed my sneaker into the guy’s knee, putting all of my weight and strength behind the blow. Then, when he staggered forward, I rammed my knee into his groin. He was really screaming then.
The guy toppled to the floor, but I wasn’t done yet. I grabbed his sword from where it had fallen. Then I brought the weapon up, around, and down—straight into his heart.
He arched once and then went completely slack—dead.
I stopped long enough to hook my throwing stars back onto my belt and glance at Devon, who had managed to pull himself up onto his hands and knees.
“Are you okay?”
He gasped for air, so I took that as a yes.
By this point, Ashley, the bodyguard, had killed one of the guys and was fighting another, along with the mystery man. I tightened my grip on the dead guy’s sword and stepped forward to wade into the fight.
At least, I tried to.
The fourth and final guy, who’d been hanging back so far, stepped into the aisle in front of me. The overhead lights made his black, stubbly hair stand out like needles poking out of his skull. I recognized him—the leader of the three guards that had chased me across the rooftops last night. What was he doing here?
“Well, well, well,” he rumbled, grinning and showing me his crooked teeth. “If it isn’t the one who got away.”
“I thought you didn’t like carving up little girls.”
