“Ahmed,” I said as we surrounded him. “We have some business with you. Leave the snakes.” Kyphas took the boxes and put them down as Sterling grabbed the mage by the wrists and forced his hands into a clapping position.
Sterling banged their foreheads together as he whispered,
“Bound to me now.” His bracelets
I traded amazed looks with Bergman, our specialized contact lenses making our awed faces look even greener with envy as we watched Ahmed try desperately to twist his hands free. But the shackles had become so tight he could barely wiggle his fingers.
“What—” he began, but Sterling held up a finger.
“You can talk—later. Now fol ow me.” Just words to Bergman. But I felt the magic behind them, like the thickness in the air before a storm. My whole body tightened as it surrounded me, and I took a second to congratulate myself that Sterling was on my side. It must feel to Ahmed like being bitten al at once by a thousand mosquitoes.
Our warlock took us back toward Vayl. But before we got there the lights flickered on in the west half of the square. And we were attacked.
We did have some warning. A flash of neon. The scent of wolf. I yel ed, “Sterling, guard the mage!” Then a white-furred form took me to the ground, its snapping jaws so close to my jugular I could feel snippets of skin come away in its teeth.
It had seen the staff in my right hand and managed to pin that wrist to the ground. The other I rammed into its mouth. The scrape of my metal gauntlet against fangs made me shiver as I brought both knees up and smashed them into the wolf’s ribs. Its claws raked down my right arm, but then they lifted and I was free. I swung the staff like I meant to ski down a mountain. It hit square, bruising flesh, splintering bone, making the Were scream in agony.
It staggered one way, I rol ed the other, abandoning the staff for Grief. But not soon enough. The Were’s Luureken, a flame-eyed girl with such deep facial scars that parts of her cheek flapped independently as she screamed, launched herself at me. Though spikes had emerged from her head and her body had grown a hard, outer shel , I figured bul ets could stil penetrate at close range. If I could only grab my gun.
The Luureken had every advantage. Position. Speed.
Madness. And a nightmare weapon. The raes was so close I could already feel it piercing my skin. For a split second I knew that nothing I did or said was going to prevent the claw inside it from ripping out my heart.
I felt a moment of relief that my whole life didn’t flash before my eyes. Some things you just never want to rehash.
But I did see Vayl as he’d been the night before he forgot me. His eyes flashing like a gemstone, green on green under green until I knew if I dived into them al day I’d never find their ultimate source.
He’d whispered in my ear, “Woman, you make me want to shout.”
And I’d said, “Go ahead.”
To which he’d replied, “I am too busy listening. Did you know the world was singing?”
“You’re such a softie.”
He’d kissed me. On the bel y button. “Tel no one. If news gets out they wil not even hire me to curl the poodles’
hair at Le Puppeez Salon.”
Regret. So enormous that I suspected it would swal ow the world. The raes speeded toward my chest. And then a blur, coming from my right. The whine of metal cleaving air, changing tones as it met skin and bone. Instant blindness as blood spurted into my eyes. And I knew, somehow, I was saved.
I felt a cloth hit my face. Used it to wipe my sight back as I regained my feet. The Luureken lay dead at my side, the spot between its forehead and mouth a mass of gore and brain tissue. The Were had toppled over next to it, panting heavily from its original wound and the secondary smashing I’d given it.
Around us people screamed and ran, flapping their arms like spooked chickens. I felt about that connected to them as I released Vayl’s sword from its sheath and, in one smooth motion, decapitated the wolf that had just nearly ended me.
Kyphas stood next to me, wiping her sword on a second piece of cloth that she’d cut from the Luureken’s shirt. I used the one she’d thrown me to clean Vayl’s blade and then threw it down, aiming it to cover the oozing mass of grossness that was the Luureken’s former face.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You owe me,” she said, nodding to our second pair of attackers. The Were lay, headless, near Sterling’s feet, and neither he nor the mage seemed to be able to look away from the carnage. It hadn’t returned to man-form yet, but I recognized the Luureken sprawled next to it, my bolo buried in its chest. It was the scar-faced “kid” who’d been hanging out with the snake-photo scammer.
“I said thanks,” I told her. But my eyes were on Miles.
Who was staring at his bloody hands and starting to shake.
I retrieved the knife, wiped it clean, and went to him.
“Bergman!” I snapped.
His head came up like I’d kicked him.
I shoved the hilt into his hand. Blew out a sigh of relief when he took it. “Your crisis can wait. In fact, that’s the great thing about them. They’re like the IRS. They know where you live, and as soon as you’ve decided you’re going to survive the most horrible experience of your life after al , they’re knocking at your door to
