The Sharpest Blade

Page 80

Kynlee’s staring at me, wide-eyed.
“Come on.” I run to the neighbor’s fence and open the gate. The yard is an exact replica of Nick’s. I can hear the fight continuing on the other side of the fence, but I don’t hear a gun firing anymore. I hope that’s not a bad sign.
“Now what?” Kynlee asks quietly.
I came this way to get out of sight, but we’re far from safe. If someone sees us—
The gate creaks as it reopens. A shout of “They’re here!” rings through the air.
I’m already shoving Kynlee toward the back fence. “Over it!”
Whether it’s fear and adrenaline or just the fact that she’s fae, Kynlee sprints to the wooden fence, leaps high enough to grab the top, then vaults herself over it.
My trip over it is a hell of a lot less graceful. I toss my sword over first, barely manage to hoist myself on top of it, then I fall to the other side, the wood raking across my skin before I hit the cement sidewalk.
I force myself to my feet, grab the sword, and sprint across the street. Kynlee runs with me, entering the shopping center’s parking lot. It’s filled with cars and witnesses, though I don’t know if the fae will give a damn about the latter.
“They’re following us!” Kynlee yells, the first note of panic entering her voice.
“Get down. Crawl,” I say when we reach the first line of cars. I lead her on a zigzag through the parked vehicles. If the fae can’t see us, they can’t fissure on top of us.
I pause in between a sedan and an SUV. The taller profile of the latter casts a shadow over us but the cement is still scalding hot. It’s been baking in the hot Vegas sun all day.
Kynlee looks at me. She’s biting her lower lip and trying not to put her hands on the ground. Or her feet. I’m just now noticing she’s not wearing shoes. Damn.
The SUV beeps.
Double damn. We don’t have time to scurry to another hiding place, a woman with a shopping bag comes around the back of the vehicle, then freezes when she sees us.
I grimace when she drops the bag, then backs away, but what was I expecting? I have a sword in my hand, and I’m pretty sure my face is scratched up from my slide over the fence.
I curse again then pull Kynlee up.
“In the store! Hurry!” I yell, catching only the briefest glimpse of the elari as I turn and run.
We make it to the wide sidewalk, but the fae fissures in front of us, cutting off our path.
“Can you fissure inside?” I ask Kynlee, not taking my eyes off the elari.
“Maybe, but—”
“Do it.” I bring my sword up as he rushes me.
He snarls tchatalun as he swings. I block his attack, but my angle of defense is wrong. His blade slides off mine, slashing down my left knee, which I’ve left too far forward.
He swings again. I backpedal under the blow, step off the curb, and lose my balance.
I land hard on my back, my head slamming into the concrete. I blink black splotches from my vision, look up, and see the elari sneering down at me.
He smiles. I do, too. Then, sweetly, I say, “Go to hell,” because I see Aren step behind him.
The elari’s sneer turns into a gasp of shock as Aren’s blade slides through him. A second later, his body poofs into a soul-shadow.
Aren reaches through the white mist and lifts me to my feet.
“You okay?” he asks between quick, shallow breaths.
“Me?” I touch his face. “God, Aren, you were already hurt.”
“I couldn’t . . .” He fades off, maybe because he doesn’t have enough air to speak, maybe because he doesn’t have the words. Instead, he pulls me into his embrace.
I wrap my arms around him, hug him tight. Over his shoulder, a number of humans gape at me. Someone asks if this is a prank or a TV show. Fae are naturally invisible in my world unless they choose to be seen by un-Sighted humans. They didn’t see me fighting the elari. They don’t see Aren holding me now. They see a crazy woman with a sword. Right now, I don’t give a damn.
Aren stiffens. I move back slightly, just enough to see his gaze is focused behind me.
“Inside,” he says.
I keep hold of his arm as I turn. It’s Nimael . . . and Cardak. The false-blood himself came to kill us.
“Come with me,” I say, pulling Aren toward the entrance. He resists.
“You’re hurt, Aren. They’re not.”
His jaw clenches, but he nods, lets me pull him inside the automatic doors, and into . . . the electronics store.
Crap. It’s wall-to-wall tech: flat-screen TVs, sound systems, computers, laptops, even refrigerators and freezers. Aren sways under the bombardment of it all. Even Kynlee looks uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the aisle.
I look over my shoulder, praying Nimael and Cardak won’t risk this much tech. They’re standing just on the other side of the threshold.
“Hey, you can’t bring that in here,” a human, one of the store clerks, says, eyeing my sword. Most people in here are smart. They’re backing away.
“Sorry,” I say, keeping my arm relaxed at my side. I don’t want to look threatening, but I’m not about to let it go, especially not when Cardak cautiously steps into the store.
“Damn it,” I mutter. “Come on.”
I pull Aren toward the back of the store. He’s way off-balance. If Caelar hadn’t beaten the hell out of him less than twenty-four hours ago, he wouldn’t be affected quite this badly, but this isn’t good for him. I need to get him and Kynlee out of here as soon as I can.
Kynlee glances behind us. “They’re both coming!”
“In here.” I lead us through swinging doors and into the store’s back room. It’s filled with boxed electronics, but there should be an exit somewhere.
A few TVs and computers are plugged in along the right wall, awaiting repairs it looks like. A workbench is behind them, and an employee drops his screwdriver as he leaps to his feet.
“Is there an exit this way?” I ask him. He nods, then he hurries back the way we came.
He passes Nimael and Cardak. My heart pounds, hoping they don’t turn their swords on him.
They don’t. Nimael opens a fissure. I hear the sharp shrrip of him reappearing behind us. We’re sandwiched in.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Aren can’t fight both of them. Neither can I.
“I’ve got Cardak.” Kyol’s voice cuts through the air. My adrenaline’s been pumping way too hard to realize how close he was. He’s just entered the back room and is standing a few strides from the false-blood.
I nod, acknowledging Kyol’s words, then look at Aren. He’s facing Nimael, but his brow is furrowed.
“McKenzie?”
Crap. The elari is illusioned.
“Swing!” I shout as Nimael rushes him. I shove a rolling cart forward. Aren’s wild swing makes the elari twist out of the way, but the cart hits him. A toolbox and a small TV topple over.
Sparks erupt when the TV smashes to the ground. They’re blue sparks, bright and sizzling. Aren leaps back, but Nimael falls on his back with a cry.
“Drop the sword!” someone shouts.
I wouldn’t pay any attention to the order except that it comes from a human.
I look behind me, see a security guard with a Taser pointed at me. Kynlee’s standing next to him.