Amelia slowed down a lot after that, paid better attention to where she was going.
Now she saw the pod readying to land outside the city. She was still far but down one of the streets she’d passed Amelia had seen the market. Tristan was leading her alongside it, out of sight and toward the landing site.
Her step slowed. Gabriel was that way. To her right, somewhere in the chaos the marketplace had become. Amelia knew he’d be there. She also knew she’d never find him in that mess. But what if he could find her? He had his super senses—although right now she smelled like a lot of things, just not herself.
And what if he’s not interested in finding you?
The thought brought hurt with it. It pissed her off—it wasn’t her own. Don’t you dare use your tricks on me, Tristan. I expect better from you.
The hurt receded immediately. “You want to know what he’s thinking right now? He’s got this Honoria woman in his sights.”
Hope flared bright hot. He was alive! She headed for the next corner, fully prepared to make the turn and go after him.
“Think, woman!” Tristan’s words were a growl in her mind and on their trail she caught a glimpse of what he thought of her just then. He was surprised, had never expected her to react this way when the right, the safe course of action should have been clear. She was supposed to be rational, always thinking ahead and coming up with solutions to problems others hadn’t thought might occur. Now she was a stranger, a lovesick female running headlong toward her own demise for someone who…
That was it. He cut himself off before she could catch the end of the thought.
Someone who what? she demanded.
The pod was landing and unless Honoria was dead or her soldiers completely inept, it was already surrounded by troops. Already she felt the crowds two streets over shifting, pouring in that direction propelled by curiosity. By the time she made it there, the pod would be surrounded and Amelia would never get through the crowd now unless someone cleared a path for her.
“We can do it, but you have to hurry,” Calen said.
Not without Gabriel, she replied with iron resolve.
The response from Tristan was wordless, furious, and probably very unflattering. But he didn’t stop her when she turned toward the marketplace. It was her own caution that kept her from rushing headlong into the crowds. Amelia flattened herself against the wall of a house, behind a holographic panel, squinting through it. With her vision already blurry without her glasses, she couldn’t see a damn thing through the flickering screen. If she stuck her head around it, she’d be seen.
“You don’t trust me,” Tristan said with something like hurt surprise in his mind-voice.
Amelia’s cheeks heated. He and Calen had flown in from Torrey to rescue her. Of course she trusted them. Amelia knew she was safe now that they were here. She was. But Gabriel was something else. She couldn’t trust his well being to them because they simply did not care. Their priority was Amelia, and whether or not she had others was incidental.
It felt like spitting in their face for their efforts but Amelia couldn’t walk away from this. It was too important.
I can’t leave him here, Tristan. Any more than I could have left you and Dara in New Alaska.
“You can’t stay here for him, either.” That was Calen.
She knew that. Intellectually.
But her intellect wasn’t calling the shots right now. There was a choice to be made.
“He has a choice to make.”
She could leave him behind, get to safety—
“He can go after Honoria, get his revenge—”
—and figure out a way to get him out later, risk something happening to him in the mean time…
“—or he can go to you. He has your scent, Amelia.”
Or she could go after him. He was close, she could feel it. They could take their chances together. Live or die, but not alone.
She hesitated.
“He hesitates.” That accusing voice was Tristan’s. His way of saying, I would already be stalking Dara. It was a mark of inferiority to Tristan that Amelia wasn’t Gabriel’s first and immediate priority.
Amelia knew better. She’d seen enough of Honoria’s madness to know they might never stop looking over their shoulder if they ran now. Honoria would never let Gabriel go willingly. And he had to know that. He’d make the same decision he’d made all along since the beginning. He’d choose to secure her safety before anything else. He’d go after Caesar to make sure Amelia was safe.
You can’t let him, she thought frantically. Tristan, you can’t let him do it—he’ll die!
There was a long enough silence from both men that Amelia worried they’d abandoned her. She waited, worrying her lower lip, nails digging into the wall.
“Everyone is heading toward us,” Tristan finally said, his mind-voice gruff. “Honoria will too. Go back one street and keep coming toward me.”
The reasoning was implied but she felt him nudge her thought process to understand what he did: Gabriel would follow either Honoria or her. Either way, all of them would end up in the same place. He wasn’t issuing an order but directions.
“Oh, and Amelia? They know you escaped. They’re hunting for you already. Run.”
Amelia ran.
* * * *
“Slow the fuck down!”
He couldn’t. His legs pumped faster, propelled him onwards. Two streets over, the market crowds were moving the same way he was—toward the landed pod. That wasn’t where he wanted to go. Amelia had to be in the other direction somewhere. He’d lost her scent a while back.
What the hell was happening to him? This couldn’t be part of the panther asserting itself, could it? Gabriel didn’t sense the animal part of him behind it.
Up ahead, a red curtain billowed out of a window. He ran straight through it. Three steps beyond it he was in the middle of a crossroads and his feet stopped dead, as if he’d hit a wall. His breaths were growls, his nails were claws. Gabriel was furious, unable to move an inch. His muscles rippled, shifted, but the act of changing shape was denied to him. All he could do was stand there and breathe.
Rico caught up, breathing hard and glaring. “Are you out of your mind?”
Possibly. He couldn’t move his mouth to speak. The growl became constant. Breath or not, it rumbled in his chest so hard he felt the vibrations down to his fingertips.
“We should be heading the other way,” Rico said.
This was insane. A person didn’t lose control of motor function out of the blue. Whatever was causing this had to end and soon. Amelia was on borrowed time alone in Rome. She was the most capable woman he’d ever known, beautiful, and smart, and so damn strong it humbled him. If there was a remote chance of her getting out of here on her own, he had absolutely no doubt she would somehow make it work.
But he didn’t want it to change her in the process, as it had him. He never wanted to look into her eyes and see a stranger staring back at him. Gabriel needed to get her out of here, before he did anything else. He could wait out Honoria, or come back here and finish it on his own.
Rico snapped his fingers. “Hey! Wake up!”
Gabriel dragged in a deep breath and his eyes widened. He hadn’t noticed before, too distracted to pay attention. He breathed in deep and sagged with relief. The scent was back.
And he could move again.
Rico swore when he took off, but Gabriel could only laugh. He followed his nose one street over and spotted a hooded figure far ahead, almost at the edge of the city. It jogged, slowed, jogged a few more steps, and then stopped for breath.
He slowed so he wouldn’t frighten her. She had to be exhausted. How far had she come? How did she know to go this way? The cloak wasn’t hers. None of what she was wearing was. He still scented her beneath it all; almost went to his knees in gratitude to whatever messed up side effect had made him turn onto this path to find her.
He could almost hear an irritated voice growl, You’re wel
come. Gabriel didn’t care. Whatever it was, Amelia would have the answer. They were getting out of here, both of them and alive. He could live with hallucinations for the time being.
Next to him, Rico drew his sword but took his cue from Gabriel. Stayed close enough to cover his back, but left plenty of room for Gabriel to move fast if he had to.
A tingle of apprehension made him slow. Something was off. He scanned the street front and behind, looked into the windows he passed, down every alley and around every corner. A hint of movement drew his eye up.
Archer on the roof. Arrow to string.
Gabriel sucked in a sharp breath.
Aiming for Amelia.
“Rico!” he shouted, putting on a burst of speed. Amelia stopped, turned around. The hood fell over her face. Ah, God, she wouldn’t see it coming! He ran faster, willing his feet to movemoveMOVE!
The string loosed with a snap.
Gabriel launched forward as she drew her hood back and smiled beatifically. Sunshine illuminating heaven deep in hell. He would die for that smile.
They collided together and Gabriel hauled her close, hunching over her to shield her. The arrow slammed home into his back, jagged edges tearing a hole through his flesh.
He would die for that smile.
Amelia’s scream deafened him to the world at large.
He would die.
Chapter 35
The arrow pierced through him. Gabriel groaned. The pain wasn’t severe; it hardly swayed him. It was Amelia’s cry that nearly killed him. He pulled away from her, wincing as the arrow’s shaft slid through his flesh before the sharp metal head came free of Amelia. She clamped a hand over the wound immediately to stop the bleeding and Gabriel staggered back.
Up on the rooftop the assassin died beneath Rico’s blade. A quick death to silence the man before he could raise an alarm but the damage had been done. Gabriel broke off the arrowhead and when Rico jumped down to the street he pulled the shaft out of his back. The wound started closing almost immediately, like every other injury he’d had since Amelia changed him. He waited for the pain to stop too. It didn’t.
“Ow,” Amelia said. Understatement. The arrow had pierced her shoulder just beneath her collarbone. It was a flesh wound but deep enough that she had to keep the pressure on to stop the bleeding. She was hurt. The scent of her blood baffled him for a moment. The message from his nose got stuck in his heart en route to his brain and refused to move along.
A flesh wound, he told himself, she would be all right.
So why couldn’t he make himself believe it?
Because nothing was ever that simple anymore.
Gabriel stared down at the arrowhead still in his hand. The piece of shaft still attached to it was stained red, not with blood, but paint. He brought it to his nose and sniffed. That message came through loud and clear. Closing his fist tight around it he turned his back on Amelia and met Rico’s gaze.
Rico nodded in wordless understanding and ran ahead to clear the path.
Poison. The goddamn assassin had dipped the arrow in poison. “Come on, angel.” He kept his voice soft, his gaze averted when he put his arm around her waist to support her. “We’re almost there. Your knight came through after all.”
“I can walk,” she said peevishly.
Not for long. The poison was hemlock.
Amelia stopped and looked up at him. “Conium is a neurotoxin,” she said. Her heart beat faster, spread the poison quicker. He had to get her onto that shuttle.
“What?”
“Hemlock,” she said. “Latin name Conium. It’s a neurotoxin.”
“Huh.” What was she a mind reader now? “That’s interesting.” He moved forward again but she stopped him.
“It means it acts on neural impulses, messages between cells, rather than cell structure.” After a moment’s pause she added, “Means you won’t be able to heal from this on your own.”
Shit. “All the more reason to get moving.” Gabriel propelled her forward, kept her in front of him so she wouldn’t see his feet starting to drag.
There was a vast field out beyond the city. It stretched for miles like a sea of golden wheat swaying in the breeze. At least that was what it used to look like before the pod had flattened a good portion of the crop. Romans had gathered en masse and soldiers had their hands full holding them back. There were mostly peasants and slaves, those desperate enough to escape that they would fight soldiers and each other for a spot on that pod. And they could plainly see not many would make it. There were already fights breaking out. Enforcements were coming in from all sides to keep the mob contained.
A small group of nobles had come out as well, keeping their distance from the dirty crowds; they were flocked around Honoria and her personal guard, watching the pod’s passengers disembark.
“There has to be a med kit on the shuttle,” Amelia said. “Maybe I can improvise something.”
That’s my girl. Always thinking two steps ahead.
“I might be able to slow the progress of it until we get to my lab.”
He said nothing.
“Crappy way to die,” she muttered. “Stops muscle function ‘til you can’t move, or breathe. You asphyxiate slowly but your brain keeps working until the end.”
Comprehending every terrifying second of it.
Honoria had equipped her men with different varieties of the same thing. The one soldiers dipped their arrows and blades into was a concentrated version. Introduced straight into the blood stream, it killed fast, but not too fast.
They were on the very edge of the crowd, with nearly a clear path to the pod. Nothing stood in their way except a couple of serfs and three soldiers with sharp eyes currently trained on something else. Gabriel raised his knee high, testing mobility. Already it took more effort than he’d like to put one foot in front of the other. He couldn’t feel his toes and Amelia was limping, leaning on him for support. She tried not to, knowing he was suffering from the same, but every time she pulled away, he dragged her back.
Ahead, two men emerged from the pod. The taller one might as well have been a gladiator. He had the posture and physique, the same vicious killer look in his eyes. He didn’t walk, he slunk, as if his feet never made a sound on the metal ramp. The other was leaner, more refined. Not a man who toiled with his hands, more someone who used his brain. There was something about him that put Gabriel on guard. The buttoned up composure held an air of authority but it was a mask for something far more unpredictable underneath. He would not be underestimating that one.
“Almost there.”
The soldiers weren’t looking at them. They were keeping an eye on the crowds, moving in closer to herd them back, leaving the path completely clear and unguarded. What was this, another trick? Honoria’s last little amusement before she shut him down? See how far you can get, little rat, before I catch you by the tail and rip your head off. He wouldn’t put it past her.
But what choice did they have?
“Now or never,” Amelia said quietly. Her face was set; she wasn’t about to give up now, no matter what. She was squinting at the pod. Where were her glasses? When he slowed, she nudged him to go faster.
At the front, Honoria detached from her entourage and met the strangers half way. Gabriel couldn’t see her mouth moving but some sort of communication must have passed between them because Caesar nodded, turned to the crowd and raised her arms to silence them.
No one did. No one cared about Caesar now that her reins had slipped. Gladiators were running free. Rico was not far away, egging the crowd on, busting soldier heads together. The others were rallying behind him, following his lead. Rome’s downtrodden had found their hero. Good luck, my friend.
The moment Honoria turned away from them, the two strangers turned in unison to stare right at him—or rather through him—with an identical expression of impatience, annoyance, and something only an animal would recognize. Gabriel bared his teeth at them, driven by instinct to warn them off.
&
nbsp; The men exchanged a long, speaking glance. Who the hell were these guys?
He was so focused on them that Honoria’s words didn’t register in his mind until they’d almost cleared the guards. Despite no one except those members of her court closest to her listening, ignoring the danger she was in, Caesar was talking, her tone casual, composed and regal, as every other time she addressed a crowd. Her words were anything but.
Had she really just confessed to the old Caesar’s murder?
Not that everyone didn’t know already. A woman didn’t simply take over in Rome the way Honoria had by accident. But to hear the words aloud, spoken like some sick introduction to an awards acceptance speech, had to be a bad joke. “When I slit Caesar Marius’ throat…”
The court hens gasped, all equally baffled, and Honoria just kept on talking. They hissed with whispers behind politely raised hands, their eyes were wide, frightened, some calculating.
A few tried to stop her, to get her to shut up, but Caesar ignored them as if they didn’t exist.
The crowds were getting more and more violent. The soldiers had concentrated closer to the pod and Honoria, but many of them were recognizing a lost cause and tucking tail.
Honoria brushed off warning hands sighed and turned to Gabriel with an indulgent smile. His hackles went up instantly and he drew Amelia tighter against him, shifting to shield her from view. “And Gabriel. My Champion. The unequaled among titans. You were my great hope for the future.”
Gabriel snarled.
“Gabriel, let’s go,” Amelia said.
He couldn’t move a step; felt the gazes of both the strangers on him the entire time and for some reason it pissed him off. This was a test of some sort.
“You all probably know him as Gladius,” Honoria was saying. “A warrior never bested in the arena. If I’d allowed him to join the ranks of my soldiers, he would have risen to surpass them as well.”
Blood Debts (The Blood Book 3) Page 31