Saar gagged. He wiped his hands against his cloak as if the taint of those words clung to his skin. ‘You’re better than this, Mosi. I came to save you, as I did once before. Let me take you from this terrible country. We can return to Egypt.’
‘A land that is still part of the Empire.’
He stepped forward. ‘And yet the Legions have abandoned this land; Honorius is gone. Why else would those Jutish skirmishers arrive so frequently? The Empire is contracting and if we place ourselves correctly we may guide our people in rising up to reclaim our independence.’
‘Our independence?’ Mosi shook his head. For the first time anger tinted his voice instead of sadness. He touched his lips as he spoke. A rosy hue filled his cheeks. ‘Have you not counted the years? I have. Near five hundred years passed since we last met and then I tried to kill you. You wished me dead. Our land was gone and you were a monster. Egypt is no more our home than that of the men outside.’
‘But it can be. Please, join me.’ Saar extended his hand.
He hadn’t come here to beg, or even speak. He travelled hundreds of miles, following Mosi’s bond with every intention of killing the traitor for the harm he caused. But seeing Mosi brought back memories, each one brighter and clearer than the reality of this dark, stinking place.
Was it so wrong to yearn for the past? To want things to be as they were?
‘I’ve seen men court madness as they sought their dreams. Many die trying to accomplish their goals. But not I, for I have powers that mere men do not. Gods are on my side.’
Silence from Mosi.
Outside the startled voices became shouts. Shouts became screams. Footsteps pounded closer.
‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘Leave what plans you had and join me. There are one hundred god-touched already scattered throughout this land. They await only my signal to leave their homes and rise up. They will take weapons, horses and food and follow me. When we are gathered as one great host we will capture cyul boats and return to our homeland. Can you not see, Mosi? It is perfect. All you need do is join me.’
Darkness flickered across Mosi’s features. His cheeks regained their natural colour. ‘One hundred? Saar, what have you done? Did you curse all those people?’
‘This is no curse. I know their lives, their loves, their woes. I know their families. I know their languages, their skills at arms. With every passing year I grow stronger and so too do those I blessed. You must feel it too. You were first, above all of them.’
Gaze on the floor, Mosi wrung his fingers. ‘I felt different but I didn’t know what it meant. Saar you can’t do this. You mustn’t.’
He slammed his fist into the packed mud wall. ‘Don’t dare tell me what I must do. You’ve no idea what I’ve been through to come here. What I must do is reclaim my home and I will do so with or without you. But I want you with me. Please.’
‘You asked why I was here.’ Mosi’s voice grew harsh. He stepped over the debris of the broken table and closed the distance between them with two long strides.
Saar breathed in the scent of him, sweat and cattle dung, but underneath a faint trace of hot, sweet spices and sand. His power crackled like lightning and leapt between them, skin to skin. His breathing quickened. Moisture filled his mouth. ‘Tell me.’
‘I came to escape you. Because I hoped you would never come here.’
Saar reeled as though punched. ‘No—’
‘Your return to that cursed temple showed me the truth. I chose to ignore that first sign.’
‘What truth?’
‘That you coveted your power. You claimed your desire to block the way was to prevent harm to others, but I know now, you wished to hold the secret close to your heart. You wanted no others to have what you have unless you wished it so. Even though the power corrupted you.’
The words stung, but Saar closed his eyes as if to do so would block them out. ‘Not so.’
‘Believe what you wish. I tried to kill you once, Saar. I love you, but if that is the only way to keep your evil from spreading, I will do so again. And I will succeed. In the meantime . . .’
Saar held his breath. Even when Mosi reached out to cup his chin, he didn’t move, simply enjoyed the sensation of those fingers on his skin.
Mosi kissed his lips, then pulled back to stare into his eyes. ‘I will kill every god-touched soldier I find.’
Saar growled. His vision blurred then sharpened. Shadows deepened into hard, black shapes and tiny flecks of gold became visible in Mosi’s eyes. Shallow lines criss-crossed his face.
‘You can’t,’ Saar said. ‘We are invincible.’
‘Octavian bested you.’
‘Because you betrayed us!’
‘Because you were injured.’ Mosi released his chin. ‘It is as I told you then: we’re all connected. One death affects many. If I kill one god-touched man, any others he cursed will die too unless they are already strong.’
The room felt abruptly warmer. Though the steady drip of rain through the roof hadn’t changed, Saar felt clammy moisture across his neck and forehead. More shouts rang out beyond the doors. Running feet. The body had been discovered.
‘You threaten me?’ he whispered.
‘I warn you. This evil must stop. I’ve seen what it can do. Please heed me. From this day, I will kill any god-touched I find and if you do not stop cursing innocent men and women, I will kill you too.’
Grunting, Saar shoved Mosi away. He stared as he fell, watching his hands skitter across the broken glass shards. Fresh blood blossomed on the other man’s palms. More than anything Saar longed to brush it away. To kiss the wounds and hold Mosi close. To feel him near and to be loved.
He knew now that could never be and the knowledge burned inside him. His chest ached, the old wound from hundreds of years ago, gone but never fully healed.
‘You would kill me? Me?’
‘I would save you, though it would surely kill me too.’
‘I need no saving.’
Mosi shook his head. ‘You remain blind, but I see clearly. If you do not wish to be saved it will never stop me trying. I love you.’
‘Stop saying that!’ Saar roared.
A whistle of parted air announced the arrival of danger outside. He threw himself to the ground as a lit torch shot through the open door. It landed on the table and spluttered a few times before guttering out. Further thuds indicated more flaming missiles landing on the roof.
He hesitated. ‘I killed one of their men. They come for me.’
Mosi pointed to the door. ‘I will not stop you. Nor will I join you. Escape as you will.’
The pain increased. His eyes prickled. Saar clutched the frame and tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. He allowed himself a few more seconds to stare into Mosi’s eyes then stumbled into the open.
Darkness blinded him, worsened an instant later when the light of dozens of fiery torches brightened the night.
The occupants of the village pressed close, a collection of swords, axes and knives held in trembling hands. ‘You killed Leofric!’ One of the men held a bloody axe, his face grim with anger. He waved the weapon like a flag.
Saar looked up at the crowd. His hand curved around the hilt of his own weapon, the bronze dagger with the golden hilt stolen from the hidden temple outside Alexandria.
Colours sharpened before his eyes. The gusty crackle of burning torches grew louder in his ears. Dirty smoke stuffed his nostrils, but not enough to block the scent of anger, fear and blood. Fangs scraped his bottom lip.
With a wordless roar Saar dived into the crowd of human warriors.
As he killed, hot tears streamed down his cheeks and mingled with the driving rain.
Chapter Twelve
Lenina wobbled around the room, testing the limits of her pain threshold. Better but not good enough.
At least she could think.
She tried her best to do that, ignoring Shawn’s curious stares as she paced round and round the piano.
She crossed to the window and peered down.
Their room was only one floor up, the area immediately below lined with hedges. To the right, twelve feet out from the window, a tree formed a possible safe route to the ground. Surely better than using the front door.
‘How are you with heights?’ she said.
‘I’m acrophobic. Since I was a child. Had a bad experience on a rock climbing trip with the Scouts.’
‘Great.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘We can’t use the front door. Any second now, someone will find the trail of blood. Short of wandering all over the mansion looking for an unguarded back way this is our best bet.’
Shawn stared at her. Swallowed. ‘Nobody said anything about climbing out of windows.’
‘What do you want to do, then?’
He scuffed the carpet with his toe.
‘Thought so. I’m sorry, but this is all I have. Didn’t you ever sneak out of your bedroom as a teenager?’
‘We lived in a bungalow.’
She opened the window. Cool air streamed in, heavy with the scents of grass, ivy and jasmine. ‘You’ll be fine.’
Shawn edged his way closer to her, looking at his feet the whole time.
Voices crept in on the edges of her hearing. Not close, but nearing all the time. Footsteps on the floors above. Kallisto’s low murmur.
‘Come on. We’re only one floor up.’
‘This is an old house. The first floor is almost twice as high as any normal building.’ Shawn’s voice trembled, just shy of panic. The flutter of his heartbeat grew louder. So did the scent of his fear. He stepped closer, peering out the window while pressed against the wall.
Lenina bit her lip. ‘You smell like food.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You’re scared. It makes you smell like food.’
He stepped back. ‘Seriously?’
‘We need to get out of here.’ She scrubbed a hand across her nose. ‘See that tree? That’s how you’re getting to the ground.’
His eyes widened. ‘I can’t make that.’
‘You will.’ When he gave her another of those steady looks, she rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. ‘I’ll give you a boost. All you need to do is hold on when you hit the tree.’
‘Hit?’
‘Come on.’ She leapt onto the sill and pulled him up with her. Immediately the officer swayed, his legs and arms shaking as he clung to the frame.
‘Oh, God.’ He closed his eyes, every muscle tense and locked.
‘Shawn?’ She touched his face, pulling his head around towards hers. When he refused to open his eyes, she touched each one with the tip of her finger. Still nothing. She cupped his face. ‘Look at me.’
His eyelids creaked open. ‘You must think I’m an idiot.’
She shook her head. ‘A little. But you did take down a god-touched Soldier with a golf club.’
A smile tugged one corner of his mouth. ‘I heard you screaming and I couldn’t leave. I found it in one of the rooms on the hallway.’
‘You did that, now trust me, you can do this.’
‘Trust?’ His eyes widened. Both shoulders lifted. Deep furrows formed in his forehead.
Lenina sighed. ‘I need you to do this. I’ll boost you across.’ She lifted his right foot and placed his heel on her right palm. ‘On three, okay?’
‘Right.’ He rubbed his mouth again. Fussed with his hair. Straightened his ragged shirt. ‘Okay. I can do this. Sure. Easy, right?’
Lenina steadied herself and cupped her left hand beneath her right. ‘One, two—’
A hand thudded down on her shoulder. She cried out. Twisted.
Shawn yelped and wobbled on her sliding palms, too committed to the jump to pull back. Lenina had time to see the look of horror in his eyes before he fell.
Tearing away from the grip on her arm, she hurled her upper body over the sill. Grabbed his flailing wrist. Her other hand clamped on the side of the frame. Wood creaked beneath her grip.
Shawn shrieked. Something in his shoulder gave with a sickening pop. His legs thrashed to and fro, bouncing off the wall as he waved back and forth twenty feet from the ground.
In the room, that same heavy grip landed on Lenina’s hip. Another hand around her throat. ‘See the Fang, can you? You’d better hope you can because Kallisto is on the way.’
Lenina grunted, wrapping both hands around Shawn’s wrist. He stared up at her, gibbering like a child, eyes round and white. His free hand clawed at her fingers.
‘Don’t drop me.’
‘I won’t.’
His glasses slipped from his nose and fell into the bushes. ‘Pull me back!’
With both knees, Lenina braced against the window and dragged upwards. The other god-touched growled in her ear, his breath hot and rank on her cheek.
Couldn’t shake him off. Couldn’t get away. No choice but to pull.
Harder. Harder.
Shawn jerked to window level as the grip on her hip tightened. Lenina kept pulling, drawing him back into the room.
He scrambled to get in, knocked all three bodies to the ground. He landed on top of Lenina, face inches from hers, his eyes wide and round. His chest heaved, bare skin pressed hard against her bloodied top. The race of his heart drummed against her breasts.
The scent of his terror billowed around her, hot and tangy. Lenina’s mouth flooded with moisture, fangs grinding free to slash her lips. Then the world tipped over as the furious Soldier shoved Shawn aside and bent into her face, his eyes blanked out.
‘Think you’re smart, huh? Think you can trick Red Fang?’
Lenina surged upwards, ramming her forehead into the bridge of his nose. It crumpled, showering her face with hot, red rain. When he leaned back, cupping his ravaged face, she followed through with a palm thrust to the same area and a flurry of jabs to the chest and stomach.
Crack. Grunt. Snap.
The Soldier fell back, clutching his various hurts while Lenina scrambled up, casting about for a weapon.
Piano stool.
The comforting weight of it gave her confidence as she turned back to the god-touched Soldier stumbling to his knees. With a wordless shout, she swung the stool by the legs, cracking it against his stunned face.
Down.
Still.
Breathing?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. God-touched didn’t need to breathe.
Leaving the unconscious figure she dropped down beside Shawn. ‘I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—he grabbed me. I would never have dropped you otherwise. Never—’
‘Who are you?’ Shawn’s voice resembled icicles. ‘Is this Lenina or Saar talking right now?’
‘Of course it’s me.’
He shied away from her hands. ‘You’re just like them. Worse.’
‘Shawn—’
‘You wanted to kill that man. I could see it in your eyes.’
‘He’s not a man.’ She slammed her fist into the ground near his thigh. Though she couldn’t see it, she heard the crack of the floorboard giving way beneath. Deep breath. In. Out. ‘I’m sorry, but you have to see—these aren’t real men or women. They’re god-touched and they’re trying to kill us.’
For long, painful seconds, Shawn stared into her eyes. When he finally looked away, it was to gasp and grip his shoulder. ‘My arm. I can’t move it.’
‘It’s dislocated. I can fix it if you let me.’ She shuffled closer. ‘Trust me—I know how.’
‘You’re a doctor now?’
‘I’ve seen someone do it before.’ She avoided his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t ask where. The field techniques of thirteenth century Mongol soldiers probably wouldn’t live up to his expectations of medical aid.
He sighed. Twisted towards her. ‘Can’t make it any worse, right?’
Lenina flexed her fingers and moved to her knees. Slow and steady, she laid Shawn flat and held his wrist, lifting the arm away from his body. He whimpered. She pushed harder, firm, stead
y pressure as she rolled the arm up, then down. To the side. ‘This will hurt,’ she murmured. His gaze snapped to hers just as she yanked the arm across his body, stretching the muscles across his back and shoulder.
Something popped, then shifted with a dull thud.
He shrieked, then fell limp, panting like an animal. Sweat cascaded down his neck and forehead.
Shaking, she let the arm rest against his stomach. ‘You should be fine now.’
Shawn scrambled into a sitting position, cradling the arm across his chest. No longer fearful, his scent instead told the story of frustration and anger. He gritted his teeth. ‘Who signed your first aid certificate?’
#
After tying Shawn’s arm against his chest in a crude sling made from the last shreds of his shirt, Lenina dragged the unconscious god-touched into a corner of the room. She wrapped his limp body in a pair of curtains and tied it off with cords from the same set. They wouldn’t hold him long, but perhaps it would slow him down.
The sounds from above and below were louder now, moving in a purposeful fashion. They had minutes, maybe less.
She led the way out into the hallway, grimacing at the trail of blood marking her path. That too should buy some time, if pursuit followed it into the room. Maybe her scent on the window would convince them she leapt to freedom the way she intended.
Careful not to disrupt the drying droplets, she followed her own trail back into the corridor than struck off to the opening of the mezzanine. At a low crouch, she beckoned Shawn to join her in peering through the gaps in the banister.
Far below, Luke stood in the parlour gesturing at a man with shoulders like a rugby player and a neck to match. ‘. . . What we’re going to do about this.’
‘Darryl told me to bring them here.’ The werewolf pointed behind him to the two figures kneeling on the floor. Both wore black hoods over their heads and struggled with hands bound behind their backs. ‘If you have a problem, speak to him—he’s alpha.’
Luke sighed, but his eyes sparkled. ‘And where is he, Mike? Why has our alpha, our leader, abandoned us to the whims of these blood suckers while pursuing some personal vendetta?’
Mike shrugged. ‘He knows what he’s doing.’
Walking The Razor's Edge Page 10