“No time for decency,” Sora cut her off. She grabbed Lily firmly by the arm and looked her friend in the eyes. “Go back to the Ebonaire manor,” she said. “Tell them what’s happened.”
Lily looked shocked. “Alone? Without you?”
“I need to help,” Sora said.
“Have you lost your mind?” her maid demanded. “What could you possibly do?”
“I don’t know. Just find Ferran and tell him what’s happened!” Sora shoved Lily out into the street. Then she turned in the opposite direction and started running down the sidewalk as fast as she could through the crush of people.
The fires aboard the King’s float burned a fierce crimson red. She didn’t know exactly what to do, but she knew she couldn’t let the royal family be killed.
Then, suddenly, a hand grabbed her cruelly from behind.
* * *
Caprion hovered on a rooftop overlooking the wide water canal. His eyes remained sharp as the parade began. He felt the presence of demons close by, though with all the masked revelers crowding the streets, he wasn’t sure where they hid.
He thought of the assassin, Krait, back on the Dawn Seeker. Four Dracians kept watch in case she tried to escape. He would have preferred more, but the crew couldn’t be spared. The Dracians were sailors and thieves, not trained warriors. Depending on the scale of the Shade’s attack, they would easily be overwhelmed.
He was not concerned as much with the safety of the human King as he was with the entire city. He hoped Ferran was wrong. Even if the humans were simple in their ways, ignorant to magic and widely flawed, they didn’t deserve to be preyed upon.
As a seraphim, his duty to the One Star extended to all races; they lived under the same sun, after all, and ate food grown from the same earth. He was, by the One Star’s decree, a guardian of the realm of Wind and Light. At 19, he had searched desperately for his sacred Song, the one he could sing to the heavens as an offering, which would attract the light of his star and channel its power into his body, manifesting as wings. He had found his wings, but not without sacrifice. The One Star had created him to be a seraphim, one of noble heart and intention, to protect the races. He must fulfill his calling, whatever it may be.
Sometimes he doubted himself, and he believed he was not worthy of the One Star’s task. He suspected he carried more darkness within him than a seraph should hold. Thoughts of Krait proved that. He sympathized with the Sixth Race more than he should, and hated his own race for their hypocrisy. But when he felt that Song stir now in his chest, music not quite heard by his ears, it lent him strength. The One Star led him to this place, and he would help the city as best he could.
A series of gasps and sudden shouts arose from the crowd below. Caprion watched the busy streets. He saw people pushing eagerly against the side of the canal, all pointing and waving wildly at the water. And then he saw specks of orange light arcing through the sky from the opposing bank: a rain of flaming arrows.
Most of the arrows landed in the icy water, but one struck the thick wood of the royal float, and another struck the float of the North Wind, directly in front. Fire spread across the wooden ships and set the decor alight. The attack was underway.
The onlookers began to swarm against the low wall of the canal. Several were pushed into the cold, gray water. Panic ensued.
Caprion whistled sharply. On the street below, Silas stood in an extravagant yellow suit with a massive blue pirate’s hat upon his head, and an orange mask to complete the outfit. Caprion watched as he directed his men to the edge of the canal. The Dracians charged through the crowd, pushing people out of the way. With halloos and bellows, the Dracians began plunging eagerly into the water, shedding their hats and coats on the way down. As they entered the canal, he saw them change form beneath the murky waves. Their bodies wavered, momentarily distorted, then reappeared as bursts of color and glinting scales. They moved like sea-dragons beneath the dense, sluggish water. He watched them dart swiftly toward the royal float.
By now three other barges glowed red with hungry, destructive flames. Caprion saw several small skiffs in the water. They emerged from the far bank, shooting fiery arrows toward the parade floats. It seemed the attack was not yet finished.
With a flash of light, he took to the air and shot across the canal. He knew he would be seen, but hopefully the humans would remember him as a mere apparition. The tips of his wings skimmed the water as he dove toward the small boats. He grabbed the side of the nearest craft and, with a mighty heave, capsized it. The men on board splashed into the water, where the Dracians dealt with them.
Caprion paused after capsizing the first skiff. The people floundering in the cold water were dressed in black, much like members of the Shade, but they weren’t assassins; he could tell the difference immediately. As he turned toward the second skiff, its passengers pointed and shouted at his approach, and a few jumped into the water to escape. Humans? he thought, puzzled. Why would they attack their own kind—and the royal family, no less? Perhaps the Shade weren’t involved in the attack at all?
He turned to the King’s barge. Fire had consumed it almost completely. He could see the royal family huddled against the flames, trapped by a large, decorative throne chair and a collapsed miniature of the royal palace.
He used a few hand gestures to focus his power. Then, with tense concentration, he surrounded the royal family with white light. His head pounded and his wings flickered as he lifted all four of them from the barge at once. His second set of wings flashed into existence as he exerted his power. More than once he felt his control begin to slip, but he was able to transport them across the water to safety.
Once on the bank, a group of human soldiers ran to the royal family and surrounded them. Caprion continued to hover over the river, then let out a long, slow breath—at least they were safe for now. He turned back to the ruined parade and repeated the process. Several floats were burning, and he carried as many passengers to shore as he could.
A few skiffs still floated upon the canal, but the Dracians appeared to be handling the situation. Tristan and Silas had gathered a group of the traitors further up the banks of the canal, and several Dracians kept watch over them until the King’s soldiers arrived.
Caprion wondered what Ferran would think of the whole ordeal. That morning, the treasure hunter seemed convinced of the Shade’s attack on the royal parade. His hunch was not far off, but it appeared a band of renegade humans had staged the attack instead. Truly, Caprion didn’t understand it. He saw no sign of the cult, despite the dark taint he felt over the city, but he had sensed the same taint even on the Little Rain river. The attack on the royal parade seemed to come from a completely different enemy.
If the Shade are not here, then where are they? he thought, with a strong desire to return to the Dawn Seeker. He didn’t know what the Shade planned, but Silas’ ship might be in danger, and if the assassins tried to rescue Krait….
Caprion bolted down the water canal, toward the Crown’s Rush and the southern docks.
CHAPTER 27
Sora tried to resist the cruel hands behind her. By his touch, she knew who held her: Cobra. He pulled her arms behind her back in a grip hard enough to break her bones, and she succumbed to his strength with little choice. All the while, she longed for her staff, which was in the carriage, and regretted hiding her dagger in her boot. There was no convenient way to draw it out and defend herself. She shouldn’t have come to the parade; it was a foolhardy venture. She should have asked Caprion to join her that morning instead of letting him take his leave back to the ship.
Cobra maneuvered Sora ahead of him. She stumbled over her long skirts. Her soft leather boots offered no grip on the ice. The crowds were so panicked, no one seemed to notice the lone noblewoman being forced up the street. All the peasants remained focused on the water canal.
“Seems you know better than to struggle,” Cobra hissed to her. “A wise choice.” They entered a network of alleys between a clust
er of tall brick buildings.
Sora wondered where he was taking her. Her Cat’s Eye stopped him from opening a shadow portal, so that bought her some time. She knew she had to escape, but couldn’t see an easy solution. If she put any sort of pressure on her arm, it would snap.
“I will never help you or Cerastes,” she snarled. “You might as well kill me now.”
“Kill you? But how would Viper ever forgive me?” he sneered.
His words left her chilled.
“It must be difficult to know your lover has abandoned you,” Cobra continued. “Don’t be surprised. We of the Sixth Race are not meant to live among humans. He is better off this way.” She could sense his leering grin beneath his cowl. “You might even thank me some day.”
“Liar,” she spat. “Crash would never join the Shade. He hates everything you stand for. He is nothing like you!” Her conviction sounded weak, even to her own ears. Doubt filled her thoughts. She was agonized by Crash's possible betrayal. He’s wrong. He’s trying to trick me, she thought desperately. It can’t be true.
“A liar, am I?” Cobra mocked as he dragged her around a corner and down another narrow alley. “Why not ask him yourself?”
She tried to pull her arm away, but his painful grip tightened. He easily controlled her by the wrist.
They entered a small courtyard where three alleys converged. A large iron grate marked an entrance to the sewers. Cobra dragged her toward it while Sora stared at the metal hatch in horror. Once she entered the underground tunnels, she knew that no one would find her.
Then someone dropped down from the roof.
Sora heard Cobra curse behind her. She gasped, unable to believe her eyes. Crash stood before them. He looked…hardened, his expression sharp as a dagger. Her Cat’s Eye murmured distantly, and she sensed a low, simmering energy about him. His demon’s aura seemed stronger than before. She couldn’t quite place what had changed, but he looked different, his cheeks gaunt, his lips tight.
“Cobra,” he said curtly. “This is my task. Give her to me.” He drew his knife.
“You failed at your job,” Cobra sneered. “Our Master is already displeased. Why do you think he sent me? To ensure that you don’t fail.”
“No,” Sora uttered. “No, it can’t be true….”
“Give her to me,” Crash repeated.
“You took too long,” Cobra hissed. As he twisted Sora’s elbow, her entire body turned. If she resisted, he would break her arm. “You’re not worthy of our Master’s favor.”
“Favor?” Sora asked. She searched Crash’s chilly gaze and demanded, “You were going to take me to Cerastes?”
He looked straight through her to Cerastes. “Let her go,” Crash asserted, “or I will tear off your arms.”
* * *
Crash saw doubt and betrayal in Sora’s eyes. She stared at him as though he were a stranger. He wanted to look away, but instead, focused on the enemy. “Well?” he prompted Cobra softly.
“Too late, Viper,” his enemy replied. “Now she’s my prize.”
“Release her or I’ll make you,” he repeated.
Cobra’s eyes crinkled. “You can try.”
Crash felt a horrible pressure building inside his body. His temples throbbed—his patience vanished. Lunging without warning, he slid on the ice, to his advantage, and tackled his enemy, breaking Cobra’s grip on Sora’s arm and hurling him into a wall.
Sora stumbled away, and Crash let her go—at least she would avoid being involved in the fight. He turned fully on Cobra and kicked the enemy assassin to the ground, then threw himself on Cobra’s body, ready to slit his throat.
His opponent vanished in a billow of black smoke as Crash’s blade struck the cold cobblestone.
Cobra materialized a few feet away, and the two assassins faced off. Crash studied his opponent through white, vaporous clouds of breath. When he lunged forward, Cobra didn’t try to evade him. Crash grabbed him by the throat through the folds of his cowl. His neck was not straight and strong, but mangled, like rotted wood.
Crash dragged the assassin sideways by his crooked neck and slammed him into the side of a building. Too easy. Why didn’t he fight back?
“So angry, Viper,” he hissed with a wheezing laugh. “Where is your control?”
Crash’s demon awakened, as though summoned by Cobra’s words. Anger couldn’t describe the darkness that stirred beneath his skin. That maddening sense of pressure continued to build beneath his skin, causing his flesh to tingle and burn. I’ll show you control, the beast grinned. Take his head!
“Run back to your master, little worm,” Crash said, in a low and lethal voice.
“And miss this—your complete undoing?” Cobra breathed. “Our Master’s precious Viper, protégé of the Hive, now loyal to a human?” A hoarse laugh escaped Cobra’s throat. “Dare I say, bound by love? Humans are far too frail for the likes of us. Just look at your lover now, demon—I believe she’s fallen ill.”
Crash glanced over his shoulder, and his stomach tightened. Sora was leaning heavily against the wall in the alley, with one hand pressed to her chest as though unable to draw air. She hadn’t run, as he had expected. Blood ran down the side of her neck.
Cobra’s grin widened. “A small cut just behind the ear. She hardly flinched. The poison works slowly—slow enough for my purpose. I want her to see the monster you are.” He pulled out a knife from his sleeve and plunged it into Crash’s torso.
All the air left him. With a guttural gasp, Crash sank to his knees, his blood staining the snow.
“And now, we wait,” Cobra taunted. “Fight me, Viper. Fight me as you truly are.”
A gust of wind blew past them, moaning down one alleyway into the next. Crash focused on breathing as searing pain twisted through his torso. He wondered if the blade was poisoned.
“Why?” Viper asked, holding the knife hilt. “Why are you doing this?” He knew it couldn't be Cerastes' orders.
Cobra’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t remember the Mistmire Hive?” he murmured. “You don’t remember what you did?”
The name momentarily jarred him. Crash stared at Cobra for a long, hard moment. Yes, the Mistmire Hive… a night long ago, and a fire, and too many deaths….
“Impossible,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Unlikely, perhaps,” Cobra acknowledged, “but once I heard your Name, I knew I couldn’t let this opportunity pass. You might not remember me, but my memories of you have stayed with me over the years. How could they not, when you left me so beautifully disfigured?” His voice grew sharp. “First I will kill you, and then I will kill the girl, and then I will burn you both in the vengeful fire of our God—as I was burned.”
Crash shuddered. His actions at the Mistmire Hive were what caused his exile. Images of that night leapt briefly before his eyes, but he couldn’t lose himself to memory now. He summoned his strength: Sora. This time, Cobra would take her. He would open the hatch to the sewers and carry her away, to be used for Cerastes’ dark purposes, and then dumped into The Bath like the rest of the city’s refuse. He gripped the handle of the blade lodged in his torso—how could he fight with a dagger stuck four inches in his gut? He hesitated, on the verge of wrenching it free. So what if he bled out all over the street? He had to kill Cobra. He had to fight….
Then, in the dark recesses of his mind: You need me.
No, Crash thought forcefully. He struggled against the beast’s strength. The demon could feel his desperation. Its presence remained firm.
His heart began to pound.
You can’t do this alone, the demon murmured.
You’ll destroy her, and anything else you touch, Crash returned.
The demon grinned. I’ll destroy the one who touches her, it snarled.
Crash didn’t trust that voice. Was the demon not loyal to Cerastes? Did it not crave the power of the Dark God?
And yet, in that moment, he could feel the beast’s strength pulsing through his arms, his legs, hi
s throat. His demon was a simple creature ruled by baser needs. It desired whatever lay immediately before it—something to fight for, something to protect, something to own.
His hand hesitated on the knife hilt. He didn’t have a choice. The blade was in too deep. He couldn’t fight Cobra while he was weakened by blood loss. Sora was debilitated by poison and couldn't escape. Even now, he could see her strength wane as she slid further down the wall. If Cobra took her, he couldn’t imagine what the Shade might do to her….
He couldn’t waste any more time; he had to make a decision.
The demon made the choice for him. The pressure in his body reached an unbearable pitch. He felt like a string about to snap. Then the beast overcame his mind in a rush—Crash felt his bones crunch and his sinews tear as his body changed. His limbs elongated as his skin blackened and hardened. Long spikes jutted out from his shoulders and arms. Wings twisted up from his spine, bursting through his skin like spears. Where his hairline would be, a myriad of short black spikes covered his skull. A thick cloud of mist trailed around his body, half-obscuring his seven-foot frame. The heat of his power melted the snow on the ground.
Cobra’s gaze seemed filled with rapture, his eyes wide and staring, as though witnessing a rare and glorious event. Then his expression changed to disappointment. “You transformed so quickly! I was hoping you’d show more restraint.”
“Let’s not drag this out any longer,” Viper replied in a low and guttural voice, his words distorted by his long teeth. Through his demon’s eyes, he could see a black, toxic cloud wavering around Cobra’s body, with edges and colors shown in fine detail: miniscule variations of gray in the cobblestone, or fragile formations of ice along the roof’s gutter. He could hear the labored rush of Sora’s breath across the alley, and could smell the poison slowly infiltrating her blood. The frosty winter air cut through his nose like glass.
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