Sanctum (Guards of the Shadowlands, Book 1)

by Fine, Sarah

  I rolled to the side and got my good hand on the hilt of Sil’s scimitar, sliding it free before he could do anything about it. I leaped from the table and sprinted toward Nadia, ready to meet anyone who pursued me with deadly force. Or my best effort at it, at least.

  Sil took me up on the challenge and proved to be as fast as I’d feared. He jumped to the side as I swung the blade and tackled me when I left myself unguarded. I brought the hilt of the scimitar down hard on the top of his head, and he yowled and reared back, straddling me. I jerked my knee up, hitting him in the back. He fell forward, right into my waiting elbow strike. He rolled off me, but just as I turned to get to my feet, he did his worst. His jagged fingernails carved stinging, fiery trails across my belly. I screamed and kicked him in the face, sending him into unconsciousness.

  Kill him now, whispered Malachi’s voice in my head.

  But I hesitated. I‘d never killed someone in cold blood, and I had no time to stand around thinking about whether I could deal with the pain Malachi felt when he killed someone—even a Mazikin. I turned back to Nadia and dropped the scimitar. I had only one hand, and I would need it to help her.

  A third explosion caused the front of the building to collapse, closing the hole and leaving the narrow front entrance as the only means of escape. Crap. Well, at least the Mazikin were still distracted. I dashed to Nadia and took her hand. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

  “Is it going to end soon?” she asked, eyes glazed again, making me wonder if she’d found—or maybe created—more of those pills somewhere along the way.

  “I can help you,” I promised, “but you have to help yourself first. Get up and come with me.”

  Nadia allowed me to yank her to her feet and tow her toward the door. Then I heard it: the most wonderful sound in the world. Over the screaming, and the crying, and the crunching of feet scrambling over debris, it filled my ears. Malachi’s voice. He was calling my name.

  Roaring it, more accurately, loud enough to carry over the din. He was so near, just outside. All I had to do was climb the stairs.

  I pushed Nadia through the entryway and onto the staircase. I didn’t make it more than two steps before Juri’s hand latched onto my ankle.

  I hooked my arm around the railing and tried to shake him loose, but it was impossible.

  “Nadia,” I yelled. “Keep going. Go up. Go out. They’ll recognize you. Go!”

  Nadia turned and gazed at me with this detached, dazed look. But she did as I asked. I didn’t have time to feel relieved. Juri, eyes blazing, face blistered and bleeding, expression contorted with rage, grabbed my shoulders and wrenched me around.

  “This new body’s obviously not going to last long,” he hissed from between clenched teeth, “so I might as well enjoy its final moments.”

  He dragged me by the hair back into the massive room. The chamber was littered with bodies and debris. Sil lay limp against the wall at the far side. With the exception of about five suicides sitting in the corner, the basement was now almost empty. From outside, shrieks and yells and smaller explosions cut through the muffled silence in the room. Malachi was still shouting my name.

  Juri threw me to the ground and was on top of me in an instant. “I can hear the esteemed Captain of the Guard outside. He is calling for you. Be a nice girl and answer him.”

  I pressed my lips shut, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. His hand closed over my burned fingers and I screamed.

  He smiled down at me, excited by my pain. “Very good.”

  I brought my knee up, but he was ready this time and shifted out of the way. He punched me in the side, knocking the breath out of me. “My, you’re as nasty as he is. How do you think he’d like to find your body, Lela? It looks like I won’t be able to turn you tonight, so I guess the only thing left is to leave my mark on you for him to find.” He reached between us and wrenched at my sweatpants, ripping them down the front.

  “Help!” I shrieked, turning my face to the suicides. “Don’t let him do this!”

  They didn’t look at me. They wouldn’t help me. They couldn’t even help themselves. They would die here tonight. Maybe they’d end up back at the Gates, recycled, marching in to complete the unfinished work they’d been sent here to do. If I hadn’t gotten Nadia out, she’d probably be among them, waiting for death to claim her again.

  Juri’s fingernails scraped against my skin, right over the gouges Sil had left, making me arch and scream as he pulled my pants down just below my hips. I writhed beneath him, hands scrabbling around for something, anything with which to fight back. No way was this happening. I caught my breath again as screeching, echoing memories rose in my mind, threatening to choke me, to take me from right now and strand me in that stale bed with pink sheets.

  “Lela!”

  I pushed the memories away. Malachi was calling my name, bringing me back to the present. I threw my hip up right as Juri succeeded in unbuttoning his pants. It unbalanced him, and I twisted to hit him in the neck with my elbow. I reached far enough with my functional hand to snag a nearby hunk of cement and slammed it into his face.

  He howled with pain as his fist rocketed forward, glancing off my chin. I brought the cement down again, and this time it crunched into his nose. But he kept coming, punching at me, trying to bite me, trying to tear my pants off.

  My vision spotted with black as I hit him with the hunk of cement again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Hands closed around my shoulders. “Lela, stop.” Someone removed the cement from my numb hand as I continued to scream. When had I started screaming?

  “Stop,” said Malachi. “You can stop. He’s not moving anymore. Open your eyes.”

  His fierce face was right in front of mine. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He held my face in his hands, blocking out the sight of everything but him. “We have to get out of here. This building is going to collapse. Can you walk?”

  I blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened. “Of course,” I said hoarsely. “No problem.”

  “Come on.” He reached for my hand but drew back as I whimpered. He squinted in the darkness. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

  “Burned.”

  He cursed and reached for my other hand. “Let’s go,” he said in a tight voice as he tugged me toward the door.

  “Where’s Nadia?”

  “She’s with Ana. We have to hurry.”

  He led me up the stairwell, arms around me, gently supporting me. It seemed like he was afraid to put too much pressure on my skin, like he was worried he would hurt me. But it didn’t matter. Every part of me had been broken already. My body ached from all the punches it had taken. My belly was on fire where Sil had sliced me with his jagged fingernails. My burned hand throbbed dully. My ripped pants hung from my hips. I wanted to tie the torn edges together, but that would have taken two hands. We made it to the top of the steps. Malachi moved in front of me so he was the first out the door.

  Just as I raised my foot to step over the threshold, Malachi shoved me back. I lost my balance and fell against the doorjamb. I looked up in time to see him draw his baton and extend it. We were surrounded by at least eight Mazikin who had clearly been waiting for him to come out of the building. I wouldn’t have thought they’d be so organized without Sil to lead them…which meant someone else was leading them.

  “Lela, please stay there,” Malachi said calmly as he moved forward into the circle of enemies, drawing them away from the door, away from me.

  More alert now, adrenaline shooting through my veins, I scanned the area, searching for the one person who could have set this trap. Ibram had obviously arrived.

  There he was, engaged in a wicked scimitar battle with Ana. I whipped my head back to Malachi, who had already downed three of the Mazikin. He remained in the center of the battle, spinning and jabbing so quickly I couldn’t track all his movements. I stepped out of the doorway and craned my neck, looking f
or Nadia. She was huddled against a pile of rubble, arms folded over her head, right behind Ana and Ibram, who were doing their best to slice each other to ribbons.

  Two Mazikin came out from behind a nearby Dumpster, eyes fixed on me. I looked around for something to defend myself with, but with only one working hand and some possible internal injuries, I doubted I’d be that effective. Malachi spotted them as well. He didn’t say anything, but the tempo of his movements became more urgent. Three more Mazikin down. Only two remained, plus the two who were closing on me fast, teeth bared.

  Ana screamed, drawing everyone’s attention. She was suddenly surrounded by a group of Mazikin who had emerged from an alley on the other side of the warehouse.

  There were dozens of them.

  Ambush.

  “Ana!” Malachi shouted, ruthlessly finishing off his remaining opponents. He leaped over the heap of fallen Mazikin, drawing his throwing knives in midair. The two Mazikin who’d been loping toward me turned and ran on all fours in Ana’s direction as she screamed again. They didn’t make it far, falling simultaneously with knives deep in their backs. But it didn’t make any difference for Ana. Ibram stood and watched, a cruel smile on his face. Even from dozens of yards away, I could see why. The Mazikin had overwhelmed her, taking her to the ground. They bit and tore at her in a sort of feeding frenzy.

  “Throw, Malachi, throw!” shrieked Ana. “Do it!”

  Malachi ignored her and ran toward them. Ibram made a quick motion with his hand, and the Mazikin lifted the struggling Ana to her feet. They hustled her down the street.

  “Throw, Malachi, now! Don’t let them take me,” she screamed, the pain and panic evident in her voice.

  I stumbled forward in horror, unable to do anything. They were too far away. They were going to escape. With Ana.

  “Throw!” she screamed again.

  Malachi stopped dead and roared in frustration. There were too many Mazikin. At least twenty of them. The mob carried Ana up the street, Ibram leading the way, blade flashing. Malachi turned to me, his face helpless and tortured. I knew he didn’t care about the odds; he wanted to go after Ana. I also knew he didn’t want to leave me wounded and defenseless. I didn’t have time to help him make his decision. What would I say anyway?

  Go, rescue Ana, and die in the process.

  Stay safe, leave her to die, and come to me.

  I stared at him, paralyzed. Ana screamed again. Malachi’s expression became diamond-hard with certainty. He reached for one of the black spheres strapped to his chest. In a single, smooth motion, he hurled it up in the air. It landed right behind the mob and exploded with enough force to shatter the windows in the buildings on both sides of the street.

  The blast knocked me off my feet. I raised my head, ears ringing and popping, in time to see Malachi get to his feet and run straight toward the fiery carnage.

  Oh, God.

  I ignored both my vicious pain and my numb disbelief as I staggered forward. I limped past Nadia, who was shaking and crying, her hands pressed over her ears. But she was unharmed, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

  The clash of metal on metal echoed up the street. I almost howled with frustration. Somehow Ibram had survived and was able to fight. I started to run. I passed the first body lying in a heap on the sidewalk, dozens of feet from the origin of the blast.

  I reached the crater at ground zero and ran past, scanning each broken, blackened face. Malachi was several yards ahead, slamming his scimitar against Ibram’s. He was so obviously enraged I was afraid he would make a stupid mistake and get himself killed.

  A crumpled figure about ten feet away stirred and moaned in a ravaged yet familiar voice.

  “Ana!” I ran to her and bit back my cry. Her beautiful face was utterly savaged. Ragged bite wounds covered her neck. Her eyes were swollen shut. Blood seeped from her nose, her mouth, her ears. I sank to my knees beside her, searching for some way to help.

  “Did we get him?” Ana whispered.

  “Malachi is fighting him now. It looks like Ibram’s the only one who survived,” I assured, wanting to stroke her, to offer comfort, but no part of her was undamaged. There was nowhere to touch.

  Ana read my mind easily and chuckled, a wet, gurgling sound. “It’s all right, Lela. I can’t feel a thing.”

  I’d have known she was lying even if I hadn’t been able to read the agony on her face. As much as I wanted it to be true, there was no way the venom worked that quickly. I wasn’t going to waste time arguing with her, though.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” I choked out. “Nadia’s all right. I’m all right.”

  “No you’re not,” she rasped. “I can hear it in your voice.”

  I carefully took her hand. It was the least ruined part of her. It was a small hand, deceptively small to be so deadly. “I’m going to be fine. I kicked some ass, Ana. You would have been proud.”

  “Good girl. Now listen to me. Where’s Malachi?” A tear rolled from one of her eyes.

  Grunts and shouts and metallic shrieks rang through the street, echoing off the buildings above as Malachi and Ibram fought. “He’ll come as soon as he can.”

  Ana sighed and coughed. More blood trickled from her mouth. “You have to tell him. Tell him I loved him. I always have. Tell him he was my true brother. Tell him thank you a thousand times for saving me, for keeping me myself. He was the only one who understood.”

  I could barely see Ana’s ruined beauty through the haze of my tears. “I’ll tell him.”

  “Thank you. And—I need you to do something else for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Make sure he gets out of the city. He deserves to get out of here. He needs it. Please, no matter what it takes, make sure.”

  “I will,” I promised. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Ana’s hand twitched in mine as Malachi’s roar split the night. Ibram shrieked and fell to the ground. The impact of metal on bone was audible even from a distance.

  Ana smiled, and then her face relaxed for the last time.

  TWENTY-SIX

  I WRAPPED MY BURNED hand in a towel. I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want Malachi to see it either. As I ran the bathwater and the room filled with its strange smell, I tried to ignore the stabbing pains across my belly. All of me ached. That part of me screamed.

  When the tepid water was deep, I turned it off. I was tired and filthy enough that it even looked inviting. But it wasn’t for me.

  “All right, Nadia, this is going to feel good. Come on.”

  With my good hand, I guided Nadia, silent and passive, into the tub. I sat on the edge and poured some water over her head. It didn’t look like she’d bathed since arriving in the city. She barely lifted her arms, barely blinked an eye, barely seemed to care about the thick layer of grime peeling off her like a second skin. By the time I helped her out of the water, it was gray and cloudy.

  “Maybe we’ll work our way up to a shower.”

  Nadia nodded compliantly.

  I helped her get dressed and brushed her long, blonde hair. “There. Now you look like you used to,” I soothed.

  Nadia closed her eyes and began to cry. I had never felt more helpless, and that was really saying something. After everything—the work, the pain, the death and sacrifice—I still didn’t know how to help my best friend. I took a deep breath.

  It’s going to get better. It just hasn’t hit her yet that she’s safe, that she can relax.

  Then I hugged her, just like I had at the nest, trying to make up for a year of brush-offs. I’d never hugged her when she was alive. She’d always been a touchy-feely person, and I don’t think she ever understood why it was so hard for me. I always felt like I was letting her down. But Malachi had changed me, and it was a little easier now. I wrapped my arms around her and tried to let that hug speak for me. I’m so sorry I walked away. I promise you I’ll make this better. I won’t fail you again.

  If that hug spoke for me, though, her reactio
n spoke for her. She didn’t push me away, but she didn’t hug me back, either.

  I squeezed her a little harder, like I could jump-start her somehow. She stayed limp and quiet. Then I realized maybe I was just being selfish, like I was pushing her too hard because it would make me feel better. And what she really needed was a little time, a little rest. So I made myself let her go. She stood back from me like it had never happened, glassy-eyed, looking as hollowed out as I felt.

  More exhausted than ever, I took her hand and led her to the bedroom. I helped her sit on the cot. “I’m going to get you something to eat.”

  I went into the kitchen, noting with an ache in my chest that Malachi had not yet returned. He had stayed behind to make sure none of the Mazikin survived, including Sil. I’d told him what Sil said about being close to getting out, and Malachi responded with predictably grim determination. He was going to cut the throats of every single Mazikin who had survived the battle. He was going to blow the entire building and let it collapse on what remained of the nest.

  And then, I suspected, he would spend some time with Ana’s body, to say his final good-byes to his companion of the last forty years. I’d told him what Ana had said, about her gratitude, her love. He had nodded silently and walked away from me.

  I wondered if he would ever forgive me for creating the situation that led to Ana’s death. For being the barrier that prevented him from going after her when she needed him most. For costing him time. For costing him his strategic advantage. For costing him so much.

  All I’d ever done was take from him, use him to get what I needed. I’d been merciless, even when he asked me for mercy, when he asked me to spare him from the closeness he’d known would make things harder for him. Had I listened to him? No. I’d expected him to endure it all, just because he was the strongest person I’d ever met.