by Sarah Fine
Her arms relaxed and she dropped the branch, drained of fierceness for the moment, drained by the heat and the pain gnawing at her feet and legs. As much as she didn’t want to, she would have to rest soon. The sun was beginning to sink, which meant she’d have to find some shelter for the night, because she had no idea what new dangers would emerge once the ball of fire in the sky disappeared.
With eager fingers, she picked at the knots on the dead man’s boots. She kept her eyes on his feet at first, not wanting to see what could happen to the unlucky here, but then she realized that was stupid. If she wanted to survive, she needed to see everything. Takeshi had taught her that, delivering the lesson over and over again, in every possible way, until it finally penetrated her thick skull. Hiding from things only made her weaker. So she allowed her gaze to slide up the man’s stained pantlegs. Holy hell. A belt. And a knife.
Her weapon of choice.
It was a primitive thing, a blade of bone wedged into a wooden handle, held there by what looked like gut-string and some sort of hardened resin. But to her, it was perfect. Survival and power in the palm of her hand.
With forceful tugs, she unfastened the dead man’s belt and cinched it around her own waist, then returned her attention to the boots.
The crunch of gravel and a low growl broke through her hopeful thoughts.
The wolf was back.
And he’d brought a friend.
Ana drew the knife from her belt and rose from her squat into a low crouch. One of the wolves, the smaller one she’d just chased off, broke from its pal and began to circle, forcing her to track two targets instead of one. Ana’s eyes zipped over to her branch. She’d never reach it before the wolves pounced. All she had was her knife. She could easily throw it from here and nail one of them, but then she’d be unarmed when she faced the other.
The larger wolf, its thick tongue hanging from between glistening yellow fangs, let a long, deep growl unfurl from its chest, and Ana had to tense to keep from shaking. No fear. This wolf would not get her fear. She snarled and lunged at the beast, hoping to startle it and drive it off. It took a few wary steps back.
The smaller wolf used the moment to strike. A split second before its jaws closed around her calf, Ana jumped forward. Its teeth snagged on her dress, tearing away a chunk of filmy fabric. The larger wolf saw its chance, and it leapt at Ana, launching itself high in the air, its claws spread.
And as it came at her, she knew. This was going to hurt. The gleam of hunger in the wolf’s eyes was a promise of pain. But then it changed, instantly, the pupils spreading and dulling as a crunching thunk knocked the wolf out of the air. It fell to the ground, a spear buried in its side.
Ana didn’t stop to see where the spear came from. She whirled around and finished the smaller wolf with a simple flick of her wrist and arm, sending the bone blade deep into the creature’s scrawny chest. Even while it wheezed its final breath, she pounced, pulling the blade from its body and turning to face whatever new threat had arrived.
A man, his face shadowed by the wide brim of his hat, was doing the same thing, hunched warily over the wolf he’d killed, his body practically vibrating with tension. Ana stayed very still, waiting for him to move, to reveal his intentions. She didn’t want to gut someone who’d just saved her life. She also didn’t want to give him any reason to send that spear rocketing toward her. He’d already shown he had amazing aim.
The man’s fingers uncurled from the handle of the spear, and Ana tensed. He lifted his head, just enough for her to see his face, creased with grime and worn with time. His hand rose, palm toward her. A gesture of reassurance.
Slowly, he edged toward the dead man, and Ana’s heart sank as he pulled the boots off the body with careful, deliberate movements. He never took his eyes off her, never lowered his spear, never relaxed his guard. Ana gritted her teeth in frustration. She needed those boots more than he did.
They landed at her feet a few seconds later. Ana flinched in surprise as they skidded through the sand toward her. Her gaze traveled from their worn soles and knotted laces to the spear-thrower’s face. He nodded at her and gestured from the boots to her aching, bleeding feet.
Ana reached for the boots. “Thanks.”
He smiled, showing yellow-brown teeth. “Welcome.” He lowered his spear. “They’re a bit big, so you’ll have to stuff ’em if you don’t want blisters.”
She leaned over and pulled a wad of shredded, damp fabric from the small wolf’s muzzle, then packed it into the toe of one of the boots. The man ripped scraps from the dead guy’s pants and walked slowly toward her, holding them out. His gray-blue eyes, bright in his weathered face, skimmed over her face and body. “How did you get here?”
She took the offered rags. “Same as you did, probably.” Until she knew the right answer, vague seemed safer.
He frowned. “I doubt that.” Then he looked down at the bloody knife in her hand, and at the wolf she’d slaughtered. “But maybe … It’s just … you’re so young.” His smile was bitter. “Seems like most people ’round here need a lifetime of evil to earn their way in. Least, that’s how it seems.”
The truth slithered uncomfortably within Ana’s belly. This place was like the dark city. Like the Countryside. You earned your way in with your deeds. Which meant every single soul in this Wasteland was probably a depraved murderer. Her fingers tightened over the wooden handle of her knife, which suddenly seemed pathetic next to the thick spear clutched in her new friend’s hand.
“Which should tell you something about me,” she said in a low tone, full of the promise of violence.
“Maybe so.” He gave her another appraising look, lingering a little too long on the curve of her waist, the shape of her body barely concealed by the ripped fabric, making Ana uneasy. Then he shrugged and looked up at the sun, now a deep bloodred, kissing the tops of the smokestacks in the distant black city. “You got a place? A shelter? It’s gonna be dark soon, and there’s gangs. You may be tough, but you’re alone. That’s not good.”
“I’ll find a place.”
His mouth tightened. “I got one. You can stay the night if you want.”
She let out a quick chuckle. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I can manage.”
He took a step back and his eyes narrowed slightly; then he pulled aside the roughly woven poncho. Ana’s mouth dropped open when she saw what was beneath it—worn and bloodstained, ill-fitting but unmistakable. “You know what this means?” he asked.
She knew. Leather armor. This guy was a Guard.
CHAPTER THREE
The man grinned when he saw the tension in her shoulders slacken. “Name’s Donner.”
“Ana.”
His smile widened, revealing the cracks at the corners of his mouth. “You keep that knife with you if it makes you feel better, Ana, but I won’t hurt you.”
She loosened her grip on the knife. “Then I won’t hurt you, either.”
“Fair ’nough. Let’s go.” He turned his back to her and walked away, leaving her to shove her feet in her new boots, tie the laces as quickly as her fingers would allow, and jog after him.
She followed him along a narrow path between a wall of brambles with wickedly long thorns and a forest of huge rock splinters jutting up from the ground, noticing that Donner seemed pretty relaxed about her walking behind him. If their positions had been switched, she wasn’t sure she’d feel the same. Not that he had anything to fear from her, especially now. Her time in the Countryside felt like a fading dream, all her strength and energy siphoned away by the brutal heat and the hours of running. Her limbs were turning to lead, weighed down by the harsh, merciless nature of this place, a poison that seeped from every surface, exhausting her.
After traversing a boulder field and passing at least a dozen stripped carcasses, both human and wolf, along with a few unidentifiable skeletons, Donner disappeared into a tangle of smooth-barked, leafless trees. Ana peeked through the thick weave of branches and saw a small dirt-
floored space, complete with a fire pit, a loose nest of fabric that was probably his bed, and a cache of supplies. He leaned his spear against the wall of knotted branches and gestured to the fabric. “You can have it tonight, if you want. I’ll keep first watch, but if you’d take half the night, I’d sure ’preciate it.”
She sank onto the pallet, fatigue pulling her under. “Thank you.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m gonna gather kindling and make us a fire. You rest.”
She tugged the boots from her feet and winced at the bloody mess, wishing Raphael would appear and fix her up. She lay back on the pallet, staring at the gnarled, skeletal branches above her. This would be so much easier if she were equipped, if she had backup.
Malachi’s knife zinged across the room, landing about six inches from her left shoulder. He frowned. “Your turn.”
She reached up and wrenched the blade from the wall. It took some effort; Malachi always buried it to the hilt. But she had her own strengths. “Hold still.”
He leaned against the wall and gave her a faint smile, and in it she read the challenge. She cocked her arm, planning to land the point of the knife less than an inch from his left ear.
“Takeshi said he’d come by after his patrol,” he said casually, just as her hand flicked forward.
The blade spiraled crazily, bouncing off the ceiling and landing at Malachi’s feet. He shrugged when he saw her scowl. “You told me to be still. You didn’t say you also needed complete silence.”
She didn’t. It wasn’t the noise that threw her off.
The knife thunked into the wall, right at the junction of her neck and shoulder, slicing through her thoughts. She glared at Malachi as she tried to pull it from the plaster, but it had hit a wooden stud and was stuck. Heat pooled in her cheeks as she tugged at it, especially when she heard footsteps sounding on the stairs. The door to the training room opened.
Malachi grinned and stretched as Takeshi stepped into the room. “I think my work here is done.” With a mildly evil glint in his eye, he gave Ana a little bow and saluted Takeshi, then closed the door behind him. Ana turned her back and focused on the knife, which was much safer than looking at Takeshi. Lately, something had changed, shifted, rearranged itself. Now, when she looked at him, a foreign warmth bloomed inside her, beyond simple attraction, beyond the urge to touch. It was overwhelming. And unwanted. Especially by Takeshi. She could swear he was avoiding her, and it hurt more than she’d ever expected.
A hand reached over her shoulder, and with a single pull, Takeshi removed the knife from the wall. Ana stared at the hole it left, at the plaster dust drifting to the floor. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you.”
“I take it you didn’t find the nest.”
“No.”
Good. I want you to be safe. She flinched at the thought. “Sorry. I know you thought you had a good lead this time.”
“I’m leaving for the southern quarter tonight. I’ll be gone for a week, maybe.”
She turned around, feeling as if her chest were caught in a slowly tightening vice, gradually squeezing the fight out of her. His hair was wet, like he’d just come from the shower room, and the dull, alkaline scent of soap smothered the warm, familiar smell of his skin. She had the sudden urge to press her nose against his neck and inhale—but managed to stomp on the crazy thought. That was most definitely not allowed. “You’re leaving again already? You just got back.”
He tilted his head, searching her face. “I know.”
“Do you need me to come? Malachi can—”
“No, I’ll go alone.” The slight furrow in his brow made her fingers twitch with the urge to run them over that spot, to relax the tension. Why was he looking at her like that?
“I’m ready for a multiday patrol,” she said. “I could help you.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. He’d once told her she had nearly built up the endurance to go on longer patrols, but now that she had proved herself strong and lethal, he’d been relegating her to local patrols while he either went off by himself or took Malachi as his Guard partner, leaving her to run routine missions with the huge inhuman Guards.
Takeshi’s delicately sculpted lips drooped into a frown. “I know that, Ana.” He looked down at the knife in his hand. “I’ll assign you one soon. Someday. Anyway, I just came to check on you. And to say good-bye.” He gave her a tired smile and turned away.
Her hand shot out and closed around his wrist. “Is it that I’m not good enough?” she snapped. “Tell me what I have to do. I’ll train harder.”
His shoulders tensed as he stared at the door. “No, there’s nothing you can do.”
She stepped back, letting out a breath as his words punched her in the stomach. “Because I’m a woman?”
He let out a soft huff of laughter. “Something like that. Mostly because you’re you.” She dropped his wrist as if his skin had burned her, and he turned around, looking more miserable than she’d ever seen him. “Ana—”
She threw the punch on sheer reflex, like the hurt had been injected straight into her muscles, bypassing her brain. But no one moved faster than Takeshi, and he caught her fist in midair. Then they were fighting—Ana pulling out all the stops, Takeshi blocking and frustrating her at every turn. For years, years, she’d worked hard and trained to be able to keep up with him and Malachi, and now she was holding her own. But it still wasn’t enough, and he’d just confirmed that it never would be. The rage blinded her.
He ducked a roundhouse punch and let the momentum carry her around, then wrapped himself around her from behind, straitjacketing her. The blasts of his breath were hot in her ear, and his grip was merciless. She hung her head, and the only thing she had the energy to fight was the tears threatening to fall. “I lose again,” she whispered. She’d only wanted to prove herself good enough.
“You’re so wrong, Ana,” he said, his voice rough as he held her still. “Between the two of us, you will always have the upper hand.”
He let her go abruptly and she stumbled forward. She sank to the floor as she heard the door to the training room slam.
She reached for him, opening her mouth to call him back to her, tensing her muscles to chase after him, to drag him back into the dream with her, to beg him to wrap her in his arms again.
Except … she couldn’t move.
Her eyes flew open. A merry fire crackled in the fire pit, sending smoke curling up through the tangle of branches above her head. She was alone. She glanced down at herself. Ropes bound her arms and coiled around her wrists, and more were wrapped around her legs and ankles. Her brain sizzled with alarm. Either someone had hurt Donner and tied her up …
Or Donner was not her friend.
Either way, it looked like she was on her own for the moment, and that was a very good thing. She wriggled and squirmed, trying to loosen the ropes. The rough hemp bit at her skin, rubbing it raw. Still, she could sit up, and it felt better than lying flat on her back, laid out like a feast for whoever decided to come through the low entrance to this hovel. She glanced around, looking for something sharp. Nothing. Including the knife that had been in her belt. It was gone.
Listening hard for the presence of others, she inched her way toward the fire. A narrow, twiggy branch stuck up from the pile, not yet devoured by the flames. With her bound hands, she reached forward and pulled it slowly from the fire, smiling as the tip of it came away carrying a finger of flame. She carefully touched the fire to the ropes around her ankles, gritting her teeth as the flesh on her legs began to feel as if it were melting off her bones.
The rope turned black, curling away at the edges slowly … slowly …
A noise outside made her jerk, and the flame at the end of her stick went out. She clamped her mouth shut to hold in the curses. Just beyond the entrance to her woody cave, men’s voices rose in laughter. Her body and brain kicked into overdrive. With frantic movements, she rolled and rubbed the weakened, frayed, partially burned rope aga
inst the edge of one of the stones surrounding the fire pit. Back and forth, back and forth—snap.
She curled into a ball and tugged at the hemp around her legs, unraveling the long strand of rope and finally freeing her feet just as footsteps brought the voices within earshot.
“I promise you, you will not be disappointed,” Donner said. “I’ve never seen anything like her in all the years I’ve been here. Can’t be older than eighteen. Fresh and sweet like you wouldn’t believe.”
“You’ve said that before,” a man growled. “And this time, we’ll take our payment from your flesh if you’re lying.”
Ana shot up into a crouch. Her hands were still bound, but she could wield a weapon. Too bad she was only armed with a stick. Donner probably had her knife. There was no way to maneuver in the confines of this hovel. And it sounded as if Donner was trying to sell her. Or rent her out.
A hunched man with enormous shoulders and arms lumbered into the hovel. He had a patch over one eye and scars striping his face, like he’d come out on the wrong end of an encounter with one of those carrion birds. He wore a greedy, excited smile that froze when he saw Ana crouched in the corner. “I thought you said you tied her up,” he called over his shoulder.
“He did,” Ana said. Her gaze darted down to the stick in her hand as her escape plan formed in her mind.
The one-eyed man leered at her. “He was right. You’ll be worth every pound of meat I paid for you.”
She smiled at him with clenched teeth. “I guarantee it.” And then she struck like a snake, aiming at the one place that could disable him in a heartbeat.
His remaining eye.
With precision born of years of scimitar training, Ana lunged forward in the small space. The one-eyed man was too big to have anywhere to go, and too surprised to deflect her. His enraged howl rang in her ears as she shoved the now no-eyed man toward the fire pit. She was reaching for the knife at his belt when thick arms closed around her from behind, squeezing her so hard she thought her ribs might snap. Donner dragged her backward as she kicked out, hitting No-Eye as he rose from the fire, plunging him back into it and sending up a spray of ashes and flame that caught the bed pallet on fire.