room was empty except for the two of them and her poor, departed father. The horrified expression on Father's face bludgeoned her from across the room. Every time she tried to comprehend what he had suffered, she shivered with fury.
A loud crash from downstairs shook Josey from her misery. Heavy boots pounded on the stairs. Someone was coming! Fenrik must have awakened and called for help. Elation surged through her. Now you'll face justice!
The assassin didn't wait to be caught. He darted to the window and climbed out. Josey struggled against her bonds. If she could get free, she could tell her rescuers which way the killer had gone. However, the bindings refused to cooperate. Every wriggle she made only seemed to twist them tighter.
The bedchamber door slammed open and four men in the uniforms of the Sacred Brotherhood burst into the room. They fanned out with naked blades in their hands and lanterns raised high to pierce the shadows. Josey shouted as best she could through the gag, but the soldiers paid her no mind as they searched the chamber. She tried to nod toward the window and could have sighed with relief as one guardsman went to the aperture, but he was satisfied after a cursory look and turned back to face the murder scene. She kicked and screamed.
One man came over to peer down at her. He held his light up to her face. 'What's she doing here?'
A young guardsman with a chubby face said, 'Maybe she heard a noise and came to check it out.'
'She ain't supposed to be breathing anymore,' the first said. 'This is all screwed up.'
'What's screwed up?' a voice asked from the doorway.
Josey was perplexed by this bizarre behavior, but calmed as Markus entered the room. He looked so gallant in his prefect's uniform that for an instant she felt the tiniest bit jealous he was betrothed to Anastasia, but the feeling passed as she focused on the here and now. She grunted through the gag and shook her bound hands.
The first man pointed at her with the point of his sword. 'He didn't kill her. He just left her trussed up.'
'So I see.' Markus came over to the bed. 'Where's the assassin?'
'He wasn't here,' the guardsman with the lantern replied.
Markus smacked his hands together. 'Damn! Epps and Lauk, go search the yard. Whistle if you see anything.'
As the two soldiers dashed out, the lantern-holder said to Markus, 'We could make this one look the same as the other.'
Markus nodded to the first man. 'Take care of it, but make it fast.'
Josey tried to wriggle free once more, but the soldier straddled her hips and yanked back hard on her hair. She screamed as a blade's edge pressed against her exposed neck.
'No!
Josey shook with relief as the blade stopped. A large tear ran down the length of her nose.
'Not here,' Markus said. 'Take her back to her own room.'
What were they doing? Josey tried to shout, but the air whooshed from her lungs as the guardsman hefted her onto his shoulder. The room spun; the tableau of her dead father flashed before her eyes. She sobbed as her captor headed toward the door.
Then, the room exploded into violence.
From Josey's vantage point it appeared that the shadows along the wall came alive and attacked the man standing by the window. He fell to his knees, his face as pale as a bedsheet. A ribbon of blood spilled from his open mouth. Markus drew his sword. A silvery blur flashed. Markus fell to the carpet, bleeding from a gaping cut across his throat. Josey's bearer dropped her without warning. She landed hard on her hip. A moment later, the man gasped before joining her on the floor with a ghastly wound where his nose had been.
Josey curled into a tight ball and squeezed her eyes shut. This can't be happening! But it was. She rocked and prayed for the nightmare to end.
It was over as quickly as it began. Silence fell over the chamber, except for the crackle of the hearth embers. Josey yelped as powerful hands lifted her into the air. She imagined a knife blade sinking toward her bosom, its red tip eager to end her life. The room spun between the cracked slits of her eyelids, and a cool breeze rustled the hem of her nightgown.
The window! The beast was abducting her. She squirmed to get away. She clawed with both hands. One of her kicks landed squarely and the killer paused. Fingers grasped her hair. Then, a terrible pain shot through her skull and her sight dimmed.
A cold wind caressed Josey's face as she floated through a gray-black world of shadows lit by a smiling, silver moon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
aim's insides trembled as he stole across the midnight lawn. It was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking. Five members of the Sacred-fucking-Brotherhood lay in a High Town mansion, dead by his hand, and a plethora of questions raced through his head. Most of them concerned the limp, sweet-smelling form slung over his shoulder.
He regretted dashing the girl's head against the wall, but she had been wriggling so hard he thought she might pitch them both out the window. Anyway, it gave him some much-needed silence to think. He climbed over the gate and dropped into the alley behind the house with a grunt. The girl stirred, but did not waken. He couldn't help noticing her long legs under the flimsy nightgown and the soft breasts pressed against his shoulder. With a sigh, Caim shifted her weight and started hiking.
As he crept down the dark alley, he considered the carnage he'd left behind. He had run into his share of crooked lawmen in his time, but he had never seen any operate as boldly as the soldiers inside. They had been downright cocky. How had they gotten there so quickly? Had they been tipped off? That was a possibility. Even the men of the Brotherhood weren't above the graft and corruption that flowed through Othir like a foul air. The old man's death hadn't concerned them in the least, but finding the girl still alive had caught them off guard. Why? What was her place in this mystery? He needed answers, and he'd wager tonight's earnings she knew something.
At least one thing had gone right tonight. He had resisted the urge to call upon his powers, but it hadn't been easy. He'd wanted that edge, felt it calling him. Just a sliver; that's all he would need. But the memory of what had happened at the Blue Vine and the monstrous presence that had answered his summons were enough to deter him. Caim shook his head in the dark. What was happening to him?
Kit hovered over him. 'How did the tinmen get here so fast?'
'Good question.' He kept his voice low. Sounds carried a long way on these quiet streets. 'I wish I knew.'
Kit floated closer to the girl. 'Why did you take her? Not having enough fun as a cutthroat, you've sunk to kidnapping now?'
The question was bothering Caim as well. Why had he gone back? The job was a bust. He could have left the girl and fled the house, content that his part in the events would remain unknown. But overhearing the soldiers' conversation, it became apparent that they meant to eliminate her, and something in him couldn't let that happen. So he had risked everything he had built-his livelihood, his freedom-to save her. What the hell was he thinking? The girl's bosom expanded and contracted against Calm's cheek. She smelled faintly of lavender.
'You'd be better off just killing her and dumping the body,' Kit said. 'She'll scream for help as soon as she comes to.'
'Kit, go scout-'
'Maybe you should hit her on the head again, just to make sure.'
'Kit!' He clenched his jaws shut as his voice echoed off the stone facades on either side.
She put her hands on her tiny hips. 'I looked already, all right? There's no one around, which is weird. I mean, High Town is always crawling with the law. But tonight it's like they all have something better to do. There's no one out except for a couple youngsters over on Duchess Street.'
'Then check them out. I don't want to be caught by surprise again tonight.'
'They're harmless. Just a couple kids out for a ride on their daddies' ponies. Not like this one.' She swatted at the girl's drooping head, her hand passing through the wavy locks. 'She's going to be nothing but trouble. Mark my
