God Killer

would crack his skull like an eggshell. There wasn't even time to close his eye.

And then Fisher darted in from behind, and cut at both the Dark Man's legs with her knife, hamstringing him. He fell forward onto his hands and knees as his legs gave out, the muscles half severed. He didn't make a sound, even when Fisher took hold of her sword and jerked it out of his ribs. Instead, he slowly got his feet under him, one at a time, and stood up, still clinging to his staff. Fisher backed away. Hawk gaped at him blankly. It just wasn't possible with wounds like that… the leg muscles had to be tearing themselves apart. The pain must be hideous…

The Dark Man moved toward Fisher, one step at a time. Blood coursed down his legs. He was still grinning. Hawk looked about for inspiration. His gaze fell upon a heavy rope tied to a wall bracket. He followed the rope upward, and realized it was supporting one of the huge chandeliers. It took him only a moment to see that the Dark Man was standing almost directly underneath the chandelier. Just a few more steps…

'Isobel!' he called urgently. 'Hold your ground! Let him come to you!'

Fisher shot him a quick glance and then took up a defensive stance where she was, favoring her bruised arm as best she could. There had better be a bloody good reason for this, Hawk, because I don't think I can stop him on my own. He's not human.

The Dark Man shuffled slowly forward, leaving a trail of blood behind him. The Quality were hushed and silent, watching with widened eyes. It was one thing to join the Hellfire Club for a few easy thrills, but quite another to come face to face with blood and death and suffering at such close quarters. The Dark Man shuffled forward, his grin widening. Fisher braced herself, and Hawk cut the rope with his axe.

The Dark Man just had time to see a shadow gathering around him and look up, and then half a ton of polished brass and cut glass hammered him to the floor. The sound of the crash echoed on and on. He lay still, and for a long moment no one said anything. And then the Dark Man slowly got his hands underneath him and tried to lever himself up. The chandelier lifted an inch or two, and then settled itself more firmly. Blood burst from the Dark Man's mouth, and he fell forward and lay still again. Hawk stepped in, raised his axe, and struck down with all his strength. There were a few shocked cries from the Quality as blood spurted and the Dark Man's head rolled free, but Hawk paid them no heed. He wasn't taking any chances.

Buchan made his way through the crowd to join Hawk and Fisher. 'That was some fight. You might have let it last long enough for me to join in. Do either of you know who he was? What he was doing here?'

'Tracking us, I think,' said Hawk. 'It's to do with a murder case we worked on before we joined the God Squad.'

'I see,' said Buchan. 'Do you want to explain that to these people, or shall I?'

'I think it might be better if none of us did,' said Fisher. 'Hawk, let's get the hell out of here. The regular Guard will be here soon; let them handle it.'

Hawk looked around him. 'All these people hurt, because of us…'

'We don't know that,' said Fisher. 'Now let's go.'

Hawk nodded, and let Buchan lead him and Fisher out of the ballroom. Behind them, the Quality had closed in around the Dark Man's body and were kicking it viciously. Hawk looked back once, and then looked away. Buchan smiled grimly.

'If nothing else, Hawk, you've got to admit the Quality know how to throw a party. You never know what's going to happen next.'

Chapter Five

Secrets Come to Light

Rowan sat up stiffly in bed and groaned loudly. She hurt all over, and her mouth tasted foul. She felt more tired now than when she'd gone to bed. She reached painfully over to the bedside table and grabbed the cupful of potion she'd prepared earlier. She took a quick sip, then leaned back against the headboard and looked unhappily at the sickly green stuff in the cup. Putting mint in to flavor it had definitely been a mistake. It must have clashed with something. On the other hand, it couldn't taste much worse than her mouth did anyway. She lifted the cup determinedly while her nerve held out, and gulped the horrid stuff down. It tasted even worse than she felt, and she indulged herself by pulling awful faces as she put the cup down on the table. She paused in mid-grimace as she noticed the steaming cup of tea on the silver tray, also resting on the bedside table. Her mouth flattened into a thin line. Tomb had been in her room again. She was going to have to do something about Tomb.

Rowan began to feel a little better as the potion began its work, and she pushed back the bedclothes and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She picked up the cup of tea, looked at it for a moment, and then sipped at it cautiously. It was strong and sweet, and a pleasant warmth moved through her. Say what you would about Tomb, and she could think of a lot, most of it based around the word irritating, the fact remained that he made a good cup of tea. Still, she was definitely going to have to do something about him. She'd made it as clear as she could that she had no feelings of any kind for him and would be just as happy if he'd find somebody else to pester, but he seemed determined not to get the point. Maybe she should try something more direct, like hitting him. She didn't really want to be unpleasant about it, but it might be kinder in the long run. It certainly wasn't fair to let him go on hanging around like this.

She smiled sourly as she sipped her tea. Not that she had time for any more complications in her life, but if someone had to fall for her, why couldn't it have been Buchan? All right, he was a few years older than she, but he still had one hell of a body. He was more experienced than Tomb, more sophisticated; he would have understood the situation. They could have had a marvelous, uncomplicated affair that was fun while it lasted but nothing to fret over when it was finished. But no. The dashing, debonair, handsome Charles Buchan couldn't be bothered to look at a dumpy little thing like her. He had to save himself for those stinking bitches at the Sisters of Joy. She sighed wistfully. Such a waste of a good man… but then, that was the way the world went. Nothing was what it seemed, nobody could be trusted, and there was no point in believing in anything unless you could hold it in your hand and check it for flaws. A harsh philosophy, but better than nothing.

She looked at the traveling clock on the mantelpiece. Buchan should be back from the Hellfire Club soon, along with the two Guards. She scowled, thinking about Hawk and Fisher. They were going to be trouble; she'd known that from the moment she first met them. They didn't understand what was happening on the Street of Gods, but that wouldn't stop them from charging blindly in, trying to put things right by brute force. They were fools, but they were dangerous fools. She yawned suddenly, and took a long, slow stretch. She looked wistfully at her warm, comfortable bed. Just another half-hour's rest would feel so good…

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and tensed. Her head was still too muzzy for her to See who it was. The footsteps came unhurriedly along the landing and stopped outside her door. There was a long pause, followed by a hesitant knock. Rowan relaxed, and let out her breath in a quiet sigh. She knew that knock.

'Come in, Tomb.'

The sorcerer opened the door and came in, shot a quick glance at Rowan to see how she was, and then smiled winningly at her. 'Just thought I'd look in and check you were up. The others will be back soon.'

'Yes, I know. I'm feeling much better, thank you.'

'That's good. I'm glad.'

'Tomb?'

'Yes, Rowan?'

'Do you think you could shut the door? It's rather drafty in here.'

'Oh. Yes. Of course.'

He pushed the door shut, turned back, and tried his winning smile again. Rowan realized she was still holding the teacup and put it down on the tray.

'Thank you for leaving me tea again. That was very sweet of you.'

'You're welcome.' The sorcerer grinned and nodded his head, pleased.

Just like a puppy that's done a trick correctly, and wants to be patted and told he's a good dog, thought Rowan tiredly. How the hell can a first-class sorcerer like Tomb be such an idiot when it comes to women? I really don't need this. Not now.

Tomb's smile slowly disappeared, and he shuffled his feet uncertainly. 'You know, Rowan, I really am getting rather concerned about you.'

'You are? Why?'

'Well, this isn't the first time you've been ill like this, is it?'