spell to sap her breath, or explode her blood out her nostrils. Instead Deathmask stood there, shaking his head.
“Not good enough,” he said. “I need you stronger, faster. Otherwise you are useless to me.”
She clutched her numb hand to her chest and glared.
“No matter what it is, I won’t help you,” she said. “I’ve worked too hard to let you destroy everything.”
“Destroy?” Deathmask said as he looped his arms in a circle. “I’ve come to perfect, not destroy.”
She lunged at him as shadows pooled around his feet, bursting upward to form a wall that her dagger could not penetrate. She stabbed again, then spun about looking for an opening. There was none. Unsure, she closed her eyes and focused. She’d be vulnerable, but so long as the shadow wall remained, she might have the time. Purple fire surrounded the blade of her dagger, and with a cry she thrust it forward. It broke through the wall, which shattered and vanished as if it were made of fine glass. She had the briefest moment to enjoy the look of panic on Deathmask’s face before her dagger cut flesh.
It wasn’t fatal, and she cursed her foul luck. She’d guessed wrong where he stood, and her dagger only slashed his side and cut his robe. Warm blood spilled across her hand. They were so close, it seemed time froze as they eyed one another, preparing the next move for their dance. He drew a blade as he shifted away from her. Her kick sent it flying, and she stabbed again, wishing she had her other dagger. Deathmask fell back, his palms open. A light flashed from them, except it was black instead of white. It dazed her all the same, and her next two swings cut only air.
“What is wrong?” she asked as she took two steps and jumped. Her heel smashed into his stomach, and he gasped as he crumpled to the ground. “Where is the brutal killer that bested all my plans?”
Veliana dropped to one knee and thrust for his throat, not caring for his answer. He caught her wrist just as the tip entered his flesh. A single drop of blood ran down his neck as they struggled. By the gods he was strong!
“Still here,” he said, all trace of amusement gone. His voice was cold, merciless. She felt a shiver run up her spine. She jerked her arm back, but still he held her. His brown eyes met hers. If only she could tear off that damn mask of his. If only she could see his face, remind herself he was human, for his strength was unreal.
She swept her left leg around, taking out his feet. He never let go even as he fell. Together they hit the ground. The collision bumped her injured hand, and her fingers throbbed in agony. They had to be dislocated, if not broken. Still her dagger hovered inches from his flesh, unable to either attack or pull away. He landed on his back, and instead of rolling over, he reached up and held her good arm with both hands.
“I could burn your flesh until I clung to bone,” he said. His tone told her he spoke truth. “Are you ready to listen, or must I find another?”
“No others,” she said as she prepared. “You won’t have the chance.”
She dropped the dagger. Her powerful legs kicked, and she somersaulted on her palm. Her knees landed on his chest, blasting the air from his lungs. He still clutched her, but she rammed an elbow into his throat, sapping his next few words. She pressed her body against his, keeping the elbow tight. Their foreheads touched. Still he held her other hand.
“What do you want? What is your game? Who are you?”
She released the pressure on his throat just enough for him to speak. Her nerves remained on edge. The second he flinched, or said a syllable that sounded remotely like a spell, she’d crush his larynx and leave him to gag on the street.
“I told you before, I have no name.” He stared at her, eyes unflinching.
“Bullshit. Everyone has a name.”
“And mine was taken from me!”
The anger seemed to warm his very body. Her arm, where he held it, flared with white-hot pain.
“By who?” she asked, her voice low. She wanted him calm. She wanted answers before she ended his life.
“The Council of Mages. They banished me, and declared that I had no name, for I was death. And so that is what I am.”
“Banished for what?”
She heard him chuckle.
“Everyone has their secrets, and I must have mine. What will you do, Veliana? Will you kill me? Or will you listen? I am your last hope. Your guild is crumbling, and you’ve lost control of Garrick, haven’t you?”
Her hesitation was answer enough, so she didn’t bother to lie.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“I will answer nothing with an elbow on my throat. Let me up. I promise no harm will come to you tonight.”
Her mind whirled as she thought. He was clever, and dangerous. She could kill him, but what would that gain? Garrick would get what he wanted, his paranoia fed. Clearly this Deathmask had a plan, but whose? Could it be the Council’s? Did he lie about the banishment? No, his anger was too sincere. Despite the mask, she felt he spoke truth. Then what? What should she do?
She thought of Garrick’s mockery, of him telling her how she needed him.
“Stand then,” she said, letting him go as he released her wrist. “And let me hear you speak.”
“I will not tell you everything,” he said as he stood and rubbed his throat. “Not until I can trust you, and perhaps not even afterward. For now, just know that my assignment from the Council was to…watch over the guilds. I know of your true skill and control, Veliana. I know that Garrick was but a puppet, and you were pulling the strings. But that isn’t the case anymore, is it? Something’s changed.”
He retrieved her dagger and tossed it to her. She caught it in her good hand and sheathed both blades. Instead of continuing, he walked over and eyed her other hand.
“If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done so already,” he said when she tensed.
His fingers brushed hers, feeling along the bone.
“Dislocated,” he said. “Bite the hilt of your dagger if you must.”
“Just do it.”
One after the other he yanked them back into place. The pain was immense, and after the third finger, she leaned against him, unable to stand. He held her steady, and when he finished, he removed his mask and tied it around her hand as a bandage. Through the tears in her eyes she looked upon his face. The anger was gone. It was never directed at her, just those who had banished him. She felt her curiosity grow. Just what did he plan for her guild?
“Listen to me,” he whispered, as if suddenly worried others were listening. He leaned close, his cheek almost touching hers. “I cannot do this alone. I desire to create something special, something Veldaren has never before seen. You won’t be the new guildmaster, I won’t lie about that, but you will always be there at my right hand.”
“Why would I trade Garrick for you if my place shall stay the same?”
He smiled, a bit of his amusement returning to twinkle in his eye.
“Because I respect you. Garrick only knows fear. Which would you prefer? And I will not replace Garrick, not entirely. My aim is greater. We will be legends in the underworld, Vel. All you must do is accept my wisdom.”
She looked to her bandaged hand, then to his eyes.
“I must think on it.”
“Time is against me right now, but you may have a day and a night to decide. Garrick will soon stop his tricks and try to kill me outright, regardless of the fallout. I must have you at my side when that happens.”
She pulled away.
“Resume your post,” she said.
“Of course, milady.”
Before she could go, he put an arm in her way.
“That trick with your dagger,” he said. “The violet flame…where did you learn to do something like that?”
This time it was her turn to smile.
“Everyone has their secrets.”
He seemed amused, and he stepped aside so she could pass. She went into the headquarters, found her
