Ashes (The Divided Kingdom)

by Sophie H. Morgan

  She finally spotted Trick backed into a corner and fending off multiple flash-guns’ fire. He was tiring, lines of strain carving into his face.

  It fueled her outrage. She focused on the demon nearest her, whistling through her front teeth. “Hey, Sparky.”

  As he turned, she hurled her dagger. The blade sank into the demon’s gut like a sea-ship caught in a midwinter squall, fast and hard. He howled, crumpling to his knees.

  “Come and get me, boys,” she taunted with an insolent gesture, drawing them away from Trick. The fire inside her darted and dipped, echoing each movement she made as she dodged gunfire.

  She cried out when one nailed her left thigh. Skin sizzled black around the centimeter-round wound, cauterized from the heat of the laser itself. Her hand flew to cover it as she buckled to one knee.

  Air scraped her throat when she tried to breathe through the pain, managing to lever herself back up on two feet. She bent double, wheezing.

  Two demon guards were headed her way. The other two had focused on Trick, both in possession of swords. They tag-teamed Trick as he leaned heavily against the wall. His face was filthy with gun smoke, but defiance gleamed in eyes gone bronze. His hands twitched by his sides, free of a weapon.

  “Damn,” Ana bit off, four more guards appearing from nowhere. She stomped on the pain she felt, retrieving her dagger from the squirming demon’s gut. In the room. “Like ants at a fucking picnic.”

  A new shadow caught her eye, separating from the darkness with a flicker of movement. It launched at the guards, a snarl ripping through the chaos.

  Her breath stopped. “Cade.”

  He was magnificent as he tore through the guards. Half-turned into his jackal, Cade’s hands and mouth dripped blood in a steady pattern as he slashed alternately with claws and sword.

  From her left, a sword came at her.

  Ana countered, knocking the demon’s sword away. He staggered, rebounding off the wall to strike at her again. His friend came in low, coordinating.

  The clang of metal sounded like a lullaby when she sliced at both, then dove to the side. Bouncing up, she swiped at the nearest demon’s legs. He bumped his friend, sword falling for a split second.

  Ana darted up and slashed with her dagger across his throat, ignoring the hot spatter of blood on her face. She turned to the last demon, whipping her leg up and back in a powerful kick. His roar echoed off the warehouse’s walls, louder now that the flash-guns had been taken out.

  As he dropped to one knee, Ana mercilessly grabbed his head and cut his throat.

  Before he’d fallen to the dirty ground, Ana’s gaze had shifted to Trick.

  He was fading steadily, slick movements slowing to sluggishness under the relentless attack.

  He caught her eye when the final guard advanced, struggling to straighten from his stance against the wall. His eyes were deadly calm.

  Ana’s heart constricted. She took a step toward him.

  Her hand tightening on the blade she held, prepared to throw it, she screamed as the leader of the guard lunged forward to pierce Trick’s heart.

  And struck Cade instead as he leaped into the fray.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As Cade toppled to the ground, a high-pitched buzzing raged through Ana’s ears.

  Like a tornado, a scream tore from her lips, ravaging everything in its path. Her dagger sprang from her hands with a life of its own, piercing the demon’s back as Trick stabbed out with the blade Cade had dropped.

  Ana didn’t even wait to hear the death gargle before she ran, the space stretching to miles, skidding in the giant puddle of blood that seeped from the gash in Cade’s side. She fell to her knees, pressing her lips together to stop a gasp as her own injury jerked.

  “Is he…?” She couldn’t finish. Pressure sat on her, heavy and immovable, as she stared at the sword piercing Cade’s chest.

  “Not yet.” Trick’s hand settled on her shoulder. “Shade?”

  She jerked her chin. Wool lined her throat, making it difficult to speak. “We need to get it out.”

  “I can’t.”

  Ana whirled on her best friend. Flames leaped through her skin in a rush, igniting her body in a blaze of red and gold. Trick’s eyes rounded when she jabbed a fiery finger at him. “I don’t care what you think; he doesn’t deserve to die!”

  “It’s not that, Ana. The blood…” His fangs peeked out, his fists so tight that bone pushed against skin. He angled his head away as he fought against vile hunger.

  Realization smacked into her like a laser bolt. Ana swallowed. Her fire extinguished.

  “Go,” she ordered in a thready voice. “Help Sapphy.”

  Trick was a whisper in the wind the next moment.

  Ana turned to Cade, determination punching through her.

  “No, you don’t,” she muttered, shredding her tank top with her claws to retrieve a large piece of relatively clean cloth. It would have to do, because when she pulled that sword out, blood was going to stream faster than she could stem it. “You bastard, you don’t get to die.”

  Grasping the hilt of the sword with blood-slick fingers, Ana exhaled. And yanked.

  The blade slid out easily, smooth as icing on a sticky bun. Bile surged upward, but she choked it back, chucking the sword away. It clattered on the floor, adding a second layer of sound to the hum of her rising fire.

  She pressed the cloth to the injury, soaking it within seconds. It was hard to breathe, that damn weight on her chest restricting her airways.

  “Come on, Cade,” she pleaded, a catch in her voice. She leaned all her weight on the wound. “Now, I’m pushing you.”

  She swallowed the tears and removed the cloth. Her fingers were slippery with blood when she pushed them into the slash. Her heart cried at the image. No time to be squeamish.

  Ana funneled fire into the wound, intent on healing him.

  Cade’s body spasmed, jerking as her flames burned skin and boiled blood. Ana bit her lip hard enough to puncture as she forced him down, holding him still for the injury to seal. A crude cauterization, but it would do until they could get him to a doctor.

  “Ana!” Faer’s voice.

  Ana looked up in mingled relief and fury. “Where the fuck have you two been?” she snapped.

  “That fucker Joel attacked us.” Faer growled deep in his throat as he came to a stop next to her. “Can’t believe that rat dared try and take a chunk outta me. If I ever catch that fucker…” Faer stared at the masked Cade, trailing to a stop. “Who’s he?”

  “An ally.” Ana swiped at her sweaty hair, blood sticking to her forehead. “You gonna stand there gaping?”

  Faer jerked his head to Vander, who stood behind, gesturing for him to go find the others. Faer knelt next to Ana. “Poor bastard.” He frowned. “Sword? That’s a bitch.”

  “I’ve managed to seal it.”

  “You probably saved his life, girl.” The demon’s eyes were both a vivid blue with the thrill of heightened emotion. “He should kiss your feet.”

  “We need to get him to the clean room.” Ana ignored his stab at a joke, naming the chamber at HQ where all injuries were treated. Fear continued to stoke her flames, vibrating with a shrill note that rang through her head.

  “I’ll carry him. It’ll be faster.”

  She agreed. “You’d better get him there, Faer.” Ana’s voice was stiff with warning.

  Whirling on her heel to grab her weapons, not willing to leave anything that could identify the Hoods, Ana froze at the rattling breath escaping one of the bodies on the ground.

  Fire burst onto skin, dancing in spitting darts, as she lunged for the guard. “Like working for a bastard, do you?” she demanded. The instant she’d gotten hold of him, she pressed her knee onto his laser-bolt injury.

  Coughing spittle and blood out, the demon turned h
is head sideways, scraping horns along the floor. “Fuck you, Hood.”

  Ana whipped her forearm back and cracked him across the jaw. Standing, she set her boot on his windpipe. And crunched down.

  The guard’s hands jerked her foot, desperately trying to wrench her off. His eyes bulged.

  “Ana.” Vander’s voice staying her. “He’s not worth it. Let’s clean up and get back to your friend.”

  With sickness stewing in her gut, Ana lifted her foot off the guard’s throat. Before he could even breathe his relief, she lunged for the sword that lay to her right. Slicing downward, she watched dispassionately as his head rolled to a standstill a few feet away.

  Trick limped from the gloom, clutching a groggy Sapphy to his side. Her shoulder was blackened but was already healing.

  Thank the holy fires.

  Trick’s face was blotchy with blood and dirt. His eyes held a question.

  “Joel”—she balanced her weight on her right leg, one hand pressed to her laser-bolt burn—“set us up.” Fire howled for the human’s blood.

  Trick’s fangs gleamed. “He will be dealt with.”

  Cade stirred, hissing as his gut caught fire.

  A rustle of clothing. A burst of honey and blackberries. “Cade?”

  His jackal brushed up against his skin in contentment.

  A smile curved his lips, despite the piranhas nibbling their way out from inside his stomach. He tried to reach for her, then swore sharply at the movement.

  Her voice was close when she spoke. “Don’t you dare. It took me two hours to clean and sew that wound. And tough shit if you don’t like scars, because I’m not a neat sewer.”

  His animal sensed something underneath that faintly irritated tone. A quiver.

  Cade’s eyes snapped open, his chest rumbling with an automatic growl. Quickly followed by blue words as his stomach erupted into acid-drenched flames. “Fuck, fuck. Shit, that hurts.”

  “Then don’t get stabbed.”

  He tried to focus, found the world blurred. “Alana?”

  Her fingertips pressed against his mouth. “Sleep. You’re still healing. You have your jackal to thank for how quickly the wound’s closing.”

  Confusion drenched his thoughts in a sticky haze. He blinked, noting that he was in a bed, and not a comfortable one. The sheets were scratchy, the mattress hard, and the single pillow behind his head was thin enough to qualify for anorexia. He was naked but for a pair of loose trousers. “Where am I?” It came out slurred.

  “The Hoods’ HQ. We had to carry you here.”

  “I was stabbed?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” It sounded like a rebuke.

  He shifted his head on the pillow, calming as he identified her outline. Weak sunlight sketched her shape. She still wore the same clothes.

  A flash of memory made his lashes flutter. Flame demons, humans, his jackal taking over. Seeing the vampire Alana loved surrounded.

  He groaned. “Aw, damn it, I saved that fucking vampire, didn’t I?”

  Sleep claimed him before she answered.

  The next time he woke, Alana was curled up in the chair beside the bed. It looked uncomfortable, secondhand metal and stained.

  He wet his throat, studying the room she’d brought him to. The only things in it were the bed he lay in and a metal chest by the thick metal door with an orange cross on the lid. No frills, the bare essentials. Really bare. The walls were plastered white, the floor a gray tile. It didn’t scream comfort. More like sick room.

  The sun was lower in the sky than the last time he’d woken. He’d either been knocked out with drugs or he’d been so badly injured his body had had to coma itself in order to heal. He preferred the first theory. More manly.

  He tried to speak, somehow surprised when a raspy hum came out. He tried again. “Alana?”

  She didn’t stir. His frown softened. She must’ve been stuck in the room all night and day. Waiting for him to wake?

  Softer emotions, his trainers had always taught him, were the enemy. Still, he couldn’t deny the pang as he traced Alana’s exhausted, grubby features. Rust dotted and smeared her face. His warrior princess.

  His Ana.

  With a satisfied grunt, echoed by his animal, Cade attempted to sit up. A few curses slipped free as he jostled the bed, his stomach protesting in violent cramps. But, damn it, he wasn’t an invalid. He hated doctors, med-clinics, hospitals.

  Besides, it felt like the injury had healed, only a slight tenderness remaining. Give him a hearty meal and he’d be good as new.

  “What’re you doing?” Her voice was sleepy and irritated.

  His barriers crumbled. “Dancing,” he replied, tongue in cheek.

  Alana pushed up, an impression of the metal chair arm carved into her cheek. Her short hair stuck out at odd angles. “Lie down at once.” The order channeled her royal bloodline.

  “I’m fine,” he insisted. “No pain.” If I stay still and don’t so much as breathe.

  “Oh, you’re fine,” she echoed. She reached down to select something, then chucked it. “Catch.”

  His hand reached up on autopilot, gut howling as he jerked. He gritted his teeth. “You’re a cruel woman.”

  Her lips tightened.

  Cade handled the object she’d thrown. “A fruit bun.” He controlled his tone, emotions churning as if on a choppy ocean. Memory was a keen blade. “My favorite.”

  “Eat. Get your strength back.”

  He fingered the bun, inhaling the sugary scent. “What about you?”

  “I ate earlier.”

  “Uh-huh.” Splitting the bun in half, he threw one part to her. “I will if you will.”

  She plucked at the icing. “Taking care of me?”

  Cade shrugged, lifting the bun to his mouth and biting off a good chunk. The buttery sweetness of it made his stomach gurgle. Chewing, he glanced toward the window. The cream blind was pulled half-down, though the view seemed only of an inner courtyard. “How long was I out?”

  Alana finally took a small bite out of the bun, an expression of ecstasy gliding across her face.

  Cade shifted under the thin sheet that draped him. Apparently even taking a sword to the gut didn’t prevent him from getting a hard-on.

  She licked her lips free from crumbs. “Twenty hours. It’s almost sunset.”

  “Must’ve been pretty serious.”

  “Yes.”

  “Hey.” He placed the rest of the bun to the side, reaching over to touch her arm. “You okay?”

  Surprising him, Alana knocked his hand off. “Okay?” she hissed. Her palm caught fire. “Am I okay?”

  Cade drew back, unsure. “Ye-es?” he hedged. His jackal paced, despising the fact that Alana was upset.

  Her flames spread as though devouring gasoline. Cade rubbed at a spot on his forehead. He watched the bright blue of the tips of the flames dance. “I’m sensing I’ve annoyed you.”

  She flowed upward, arms crossing as she strode over to the window. He noticed with concern that she was limping, her left leg bandaged with a flexi-band. His jackal grumbled.

  “I should rip you apart,” she snarled, shoulders so tense he could karate chop concrete on them.

  “What’ve I done?” he complained. He gestured at the bed. “I’ve been unconscious.”

  She whirled, her lips tight, her face pale. “You had no right being at that warehouse,” she spat. “What were you thinking?”

  Cade blinked, feeling the solid ground fall away. “I was thinking that I was saving your life. Not to mention your vampire’s.” He sneered the last, still unhappy with their relationship.

  “Who asked you to do that?”

  Cade struggled to rise from the bed, disliking being on a disadvantage. “Nobody had to ask me to do anything.”

  “We didn’t need you,” she y
elled, smacking a palm against the wall. Even with confusion fogging his mind, Cade was impressed when she confined the fire to her skin. “We didn’t need you charging in and getting yourself stabbed. Who the fuck takes a sword for somebody they’ve never even met?” She screeched, fisting her hands at her head. “You’re insane!”

  His chest heaving from exertion, Cade leaned heavily on the chair Alana had vacated. “You’re mad at me?”

  “Yes, I’m mad at you!” She stamped her foot. “You almost got yourself killed.”

  Realization dawned along with the sense that he was an idiot—and so was she. A smile twitched at his mouth. “You were worried about me.”

  “No, I wasn’t. You can go ahead and die, for all I care.”

  He advanced, a shambling predator. Warmth flowed through his veins. “You were worried.”

  “You deaf, Cade? I said no. We just don’t need a stranger up in our business.” She sniffed.

  He stopped in front of her. Reaching out, he curved his fingers across her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  She shoved at him, the heat of flame licking. “I had your blood flowing through my fingers, Cade. What kind of merc are you? You could have…you almost…”

  Cade drew her into his arms, tucking her against his chest as she buried her face into it. She shuddered.

  One more person she cared about had been stabbed, had almost died.

  She’d panicked.

  Resting his chin on her head, he inhaled her scent. His jackal did its own version of a rumbling purr. “If it helps, I regretted it as soon as I realized it was the vampire.”

  He felt her smile against his bare chest. “Tough luck.”

  “Always.” He rubbed his chin against her hair. “All your people okay?”

  Her head nodded. “Except for our traitor.” She snarled the word, claws nipping his hips where she held him. “A human. Should’ve known.”

  “They’re not all bad,” he chided. “Some like money more than morals. That’s not limited to humans.”

  “Mmm.”

  They stood in silence for a few minutes, both content to linger. Cade let the moment spin out, aware they needed to come to terms with what his actions meant. For them, for the rebellion. For his position in the Blades.