“What?” Raych asked, getting out of the bed. “What do you think—”
“I’m going to go out there to check,” he said. “You take that.”
“What am I going to do with that?” she asked.
“Hopefully nothing. But I want you to have it anyway.”
She pulled on her nightcoat and picked up the crossbow. He grabbed a shirt and his bandolier of darts. The gauntlet was down in the workshop. Damn and blazes. Drawing two darts, he went out to the kitchen. More bells were ringing. He heard a twang and a snap from downstairs, and a man screamed. One of the security traps.
Maybe that was it.
Feet up the stairs. A lot of feet. At least ten pairs.
“That door is double-latched, right?” Raych asked.
“It’s still just wood on brass hinges,” Verci said.
A crunch of wood. Door kicked open. Things being knocked over. A search.
Asti’s apartment.
Another crack. The door to the spare apartment.
Essin was in there.
“Hey, what—” Essin shouted. “You . . . you . . . how?”
Then a scream.
Raych grabbed Verci’s shoulder so tight, he thought her fingers would dig into his bones.
“Rynax has it!” Essin screamed. “He’s got it!”
Then another scream. Then silence.
“My love,” he whispered, taking the crossbow from her. “Go back into the bedroom, push the bed in front of the door.”
“But—”
Pounding started on the door. The wood cracked, but the double-latch held.
“Gather Corsi and go out the window. Just like I showed you.”
“I can’t—”
Another smash on the door. Again and again. It wouldn’t hold much longer.
“I’m going to buy you time,” he said. “Just go.”
She went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
One of the hinges broke free.
Verci brought up the crossbow. He wished he had prepared better. More traps, more defenses. There hadn’t been the time. He should have made that a priority. He had been hopeful that it wasn’t going to be necessary, that here they would be safe.
The door smashed again, the top half of it coming free, revealing the hallway. Several men out there, pounding and smashing on the door. He took the shot, hitting one of them. That man dropped, but the others were not deterred in the slightest. Verci quickly reloaded, but as soon as he was ready, the door came completely open.
He fired again, putting down another one of the bastards before they poured into his home.
They came in, most of them toughs, just the sort of bruiser any gang or boss would use to break legs and smash skulls. Except the eyes. They were dead in the eyes.
And then one more stepped through, making Verci’s blood curdle.
Ren Poller. Ren Poller, his head smashed in, blood caked to the side of his face. He raised a finger and hoarsely rasped, “Rynax!”
“The blazes you want?” Verci yelled, palming his darts.
“Where is it?” Poller asked. “The Brotherhood wants it.”
The statue. Verci would be blazed if they would get that. Every instinct he had screamed that their getting hold of it would be the worst thing ever.
But his eyes had gone to it in the corner of the room, and the bruisers all noticed. Two of them dashed for it.
Verci flashed two darts, as he went for the statue himself. He put one of them down, only wounded the other. He grabbed that one as more of them came for him, pushing the bruiser onto his companions.
“Kill him,” Poller hissed.
Verci scooped up the statue with one arm, drawing and throwing two more darts with his free hand. Two more of the bastards wounded, at least.
“Nowhere to go,” one of them said.
“Never,” Verci said.
This he had been prepared for, reaching up to the knob above the window. With a hard yank, the window opened and Verci jumped back. He dropped down to the street, holding on to the knob and the rope attached to it that uncoiled from its wheeled housing in the apartment. It jarred his shoulder when the wheel locked, but that was better than cracking onto the pavement.
Perfect length, he was just a foot above the ground. He let go of the knob, and the spring-powered wheel retracted the rope as he landed.
He had a powerful urge to wave back at the bruisers up in the apartment before running, but as he looked up, they were all jumping out the window. As if none of them gave one damned blazes about breaking their legs.
At least two of them did break their legs on the landing, as Verci heard horrible snaps. But not one of them stopped. They came at him, stumbling and lurching, but relentless.
He turned to run, but two more of them were there behind him. He jumped back, avoiding a knife coming for his belly, but lost his grip on the statue. It tumbled out of his hands, and one of the bruisers caught it. Those two ran off with it as fast as they could.
Verci was about to give chase when several hands grabbed hold of him. He turned around, swinging punches and driving darts into each of these fools. Two of them down, more coming. Another knife came for him, but Verci twisted out of the way. Verci kicked at that one in his bad leg, but only caused the man to fall on top of him, forcing Verci to the ground. Still he was able to drive that knife into the man’s neck.
Two more came on him, and Verci tried to hold them both off with each hand while they choked him.
Ren Poller came down to the ground and ghoulishly stumbled toward him, a nightmare given form. Verci struggled to hold off the other two while Ren drew out his knife.
A crossbow bolt exploded through his crushed head, and he dropped to the ground. One of the two on Verci looked up, and got another bolt in his eye for his trouble. That gave Verci the chance to grab a dart and slam it into the neck of the one
