Footsteps that were getting closer.
- Chapter Thirteen -
Daniel had a single moment to stare blankly at the door in befuddled confusion before his mind kicked in.
When it did, it did so with all the force of a lightning bolt. “Shit,” he gasped, clinging to James’ arm and dragging him a step backwards. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Come on,” Leon whispered. Daniel could feel James shift as they moved together, angling away from the door. “We gotta go.”
“Right.” Hitching James higher, Daniel half-turned back-
Back toward the hallway. And the patio.
The patio where they’d hidden from a patrolling guard—maybe a normal, non-magical person like them. Well, like James and Leon, anyway.
Or maybe not. It might well be a mage lurking in the early-morning gloom for them. Hell, even a normal person with a gun would be plenty to ruin their day.
The thoughts raced through Daniel’s head in grim succession, spelling out a picture he didn’t like.
“Wait,” he hissed, pulling them up short. “Wait, wait. We can’t go out that way.”
“What?” Leon yelped, biting off the word just before it could become a full-on yell.
“S-Stop pullin’,” James mumbled. He didn’t even shift in their grasp.
He was hurt, Daniel knew. Probably badly.
It was his fault. If James hadn’t met him…if Alexandria hadn’t whisked him from his bed and into the world of dreams, he wouldn’t even be here.
“We’ll find another way,” Daniel whispered. His pulse beat faster and faster. He turned back to the living room, scanning for-
The door to the front room burst open with a crash. A man hurried through—a man who seemed entirely average, but for the rifle casually slung over his shoulder by a well-worn strap.
No. Daniel’s vision centered on the weapon, all the whispers and warnings fading out to a meaningless, irrelevant hum. He couldn’t afford to die here—and he wouldn’t let his friends be hurt.
His hands came up, carried on the memory of a hundred years’ practice inside the walls where time meant nothing. He’d never had to study in the outside world, which left him as much of that precious time as he liked for physical activity.
He was very glad of that, now.
The man was only a few steps away, his eyes still widening as he caught sight of the two intruders. He stumbled back a half-step, his mouth falling open.
Daniel shrugged free of James’ arm in an instant, launching himself toward the gunman like a bat out of hell. His hands balled up, his limbs tensing.
Before the gunman could stagger away, Daniel’s fist plowed into the side of his face.
Not enough. The gunman rocked backward, yelping in pain, but didn’t fall. Keep going.
Training manuals flashed before his eyes, alongside video after video. Drill after drill that he’d put himself through. His hand closed around the gunman’s wrist, pulling him forward. Tugging him off-balance. He could feel the man pull back, trying to avert the inevitable, but he’d been caught off guard from the start.
How ironic it was that he’d honed these skills for so many years inside Alexandria’s walls, intending to use them to keep his guests safe—and it was only now, in the outside world, that he had any call to actually use them.
The gunman went flying, sliding over Daniel’s shoulder. It was easy, he thought with a grin. It was so damn easy.
The man slammed into the ground with a groan and a clatter. Daniel almost winced. Almost. Landing on his rifle couldn’t have felt good. Then again, he’d been beating James, so he couldn’t feel too bad for the bastard.
The voices from the front room continued, though, growing closer by the second. “The hell’s going on out there?” he heard someone say. “Cyril, would you-”
“Ian was looking,” someone said, their voice soft and distant.
“Just give him a hand, would you?”
“Fucking hell,” Daniel mumbled, fighting for breath that’d escaped him at some point. “Where- Where should we-”
“Help, dammit,” Leon gasped. Daniel’s eyes snapped back to him, in time to see his friend stagger under James’ substantially-greater weight. “Would you walk, you ass?”
James’ lips moved, and he shook his head slowly, but whatever he was saying, Daniel couldn’t hear. The pit in his stomach yawned wider.
“Okay,” Daniel said, darting forward. “Come on. We’ll- We’ll go out the back, and-”
Something hit his back—and stayed there, clinging to his jacket. Daniel bucked, twisting wildly. “W-What the-”
“Shut up!” something hissed. Someone. Daniel froze, glancing back over his shoulder.
Even in the darkness of the living room, Olivia’s skin was white as a ghost. She didn’t smile, or grin, or offer any sort of reassurances. All she did was stare at him with eyes filled with terror, enough to shine clearly through the murk. “Hurry,” she whispered.
Hurry? Daniel stared at her from under the hem of his hood, eyes round. If she wanted him to hurry, then something else must have gone wrong.
She turned away, striding for the corner of the room. Her grip on him didn’t loosen. Daniel stumbled backwards, caught between her and James. “H-Hey, let me-”
“Do you want to die?” she hissed, whirling to glare at him.
Daniel stopped, his eyes widening further.
She stared right back, unflinching—but he could feel her hand shaking, ever so slightly. “You trusted me this far,” she murmured, spitting each word out somehow despite the hushed tone. “Don’t stop now.”
He...couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t have to like it, but...they were in this fight a bit too deep for him to protest now. Not if she had a way out.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Leon’s head swiveling back and forth between Olivia and him. Tight-lipped, Daniel nodded.
Olivia’s expression softened, just a little. With the arguments rising from the front room, she turned on her heel, dashing toward the far side of the living room—and a door that waited there.
“Come on,” Daniel murmured to Leon, taking a tighter hold on James, and followed after her. She yanked the door open, exposing a bathroom beyond.
Again, Daniel’s steps slowed. A
