Constantly wiping the tears from her face had rubbed the skin raw. It was a wonder Lara had any liquid left in her body. Crying wasn’t helping her headache, either. She sniffed and grabbed a cloth next to her that wasn’t already a sodden mess. The city’s emotional grid kept her crying—awake, asleep, it didn’t matter—and left her with little energy to strengthen her dissolving shield.
The darkness suspended over the city was like a thin layer of oil, covering every tower and crevice inside the walls. The substance had the viscosity of tar, and her Tal’Ai senses were awash with every emotion breathing within the city.
Insanity would be a relief. The thought of giving up was a repeating refrain, rolling through her brain on a never-ending loop.
She’d been right. It was far worse in Gharra than on the ship. Since arriving in the city, she’d wallowed in the darker emotions, helpless to fight the encroaching evil tunneling through her pores. Lara couldn’t drudge up any bright, happy memories; it was as if her memory bank was wiped clean of anything but shadows and hopelessness. She couldn’t even form clear pictures of her parents’ faces. The harder she tried, the vaguer their image became.
A quiet sob climbed up her throat, and a fresh bout of tears fell from her eyes. Her vision blurred again, but she had already studied every inch of the walls in her gilded cage. For two days, Lara had waited to escape, waiting for her guards to make a mistake, but the two Malirrans guarded her door around the clock.
Her hands shook from a combination of fatigue and terror. She wasn’t going to last much longer. Despite the regular meals, she was worn thin. All her energy went to keeping her measly shield up.
In a fit of pique, Lara grabbed a silver candleholder by the bed and threw it across the room.
It made a satisfactory sound when it hit the floor, making her lips curl up a little. Then she winced, shoving both hands into the blanket she was sitting on.
Any second now, a guard would investigate the noise. Glancing at the door, she waited without moving or hiding her tears. The two Malirrans had seen the steady stream of tears already, their condescending smirks giving her the shakes every time.
Huh. She sat up straighter. Several more seconds passed.
The door stayed shut.
Lara tensed before slipping off the bed without taking her eyes off the door. Her heart pounded as she slunk over to the door and listened, holding her breath.
Several men’s crude laughter echoed faintly through the wood, then another’s tortured scream bounced down the hallway.
Trembling threatened to overtake her limbs, but Lara took a deep breath and turned the knob with slow precision. She peeked through the crack and opened it a couple more inches.
Sticking her head out into the hallway, she waffled between disbelief and hope.
Lara looked down at her dark clothing and then ran her hands over the hidden weapons. Taking along food would be smart, but her window of time shrank by the second.
She had to go. Now.
Tiptoeing down the hallway, Lara paused at the end. The low murmur and chuckles floated to her from what sounded like the room off the foyer. She nibbled on her bottom lip while checking both directions. The only way out that she knew of was through the front door; still, there had to be another exit. Keeping an ear out for any movement, Lara turned right and snuck toward the back of the house.
The place was practically empty, and it was eerie walking inside a house stripped bare of any adornments. Lara released a small breath when she reached what looked like the servants’ section. Several twists and turns later, she stalled outside the kitchen.
The periodic banging of pots and silverware against the countertop traveled to her. Otherwise, it was silent. Without anyone talking, she couldn’t verify how many people were inside. Her magic was useless—a cauldron of sensations boiling together. As much as she tried, she couldn’t distinguish the feelings from each other, much less for individuals.
Was there one person? Two?
Now what?
When she looked over her shoulder to check that she was still alone, Lara’s gaze landed on a small entryway she’d somehow missed. She waited until there was noise in the kitchen before jumping to the door. On another loud bang, she nudged open the door. The hinges squeaked, and she threw herself outside in a panic.
And straight into the arms of a guard. Why, oh why, hadn’t she thought of guards posted around the perimeter of the house?
The man automatically tightened his grip on her shoulders. The man’s surprise was short-lived, and the small wave barely made a dent on the other emotions already roiling within her.
“How did you escape your room?” he growled, shaking her like a glow stick. When she stayed mute, he flipped her around with a wrench and held her in place with one hand clamped down on her shoulder.
Lara’s mouth opened in a silent scream when her head was yanked backward by the sudden grip on her hair. The pain breached the last of her magical shield, and the fear, exhaustion, and pain merged together to form something she couldn’t name.
With a growl of her own, Lara found the knife tucked inside the sleeve of her dress and struck behind her. A howl of pain shredded the calm of the night.
Crap. The man’s cry was a clarion call for help, and every guard in the vicinity would rush to this side of the property.
Lara kicked out with her boot, hitting the side of the man’s knee. She felt it give way before she was shoved away. “Oof.” Slamming into the side of the wall made her lose the little air she’d sucked in. Scrabbling to stay upright, Lara’s arms windmilled, and she almost dropped her knife.
There wasn’t a moment to lose. Even now she could hear the other guards calling to each other in their language as they ran toward her.
“What is it?”
“We’re under attack.”
“By Semnac,” a third man barked. “Don’t talk! Run!”
Lara followed the command as if it were for her alone. But when she stepped around the guard lying on the ground, his hand shot out to latch onto her ankle. Lara hissed, swung her other foot back, and kicked him hard in the head, knocking him out.
Shaking the hand off her boot, she picked up her skirt and flew away from the stampede coming around the corner of the building.
A garden rose up before her, and she put on a burst of speed.
A small trail led her through the grounds filled with fallen leaves and naked trees. Lara shivered. The signs of fall made the cold all the more real. She lengthened her stride when yells filled the property and lanterns lit the area behind her.
She ran deeper into the garden, following the trail, praying it didn’t curve back toward the house. Sucking in air, she turned another sharp corner and saw that the path had led her to an arched entryway.
Thank goodness, someone upstairs was watching out for her. There wasn’t a door to halt her progress, so she flew through it. Lara skidded down a small incline and stumbled a couple steps before she realized she was in the middle of a street.
Getting her bearings, she went right, away from the castle grounds. Two streets over, she realized she had no idea where she was going, and terror coagulated in her veins.
What sounded like a herd of armor ran toward her. A patrol must have heard the call for more guards.
Sweat beaded along her forehead and down her back. Taking a hitched breath, she pressed her hand against the stitch in her side and took off down the street just as clouds obscured the moonlight. Lara needed enough time to find a place to hide, but Gharra was a foreign city. Malirrans probably patrolled every inch of it. Soon, every one of them would be searching for her. She was at a severe disadvantage, but she refused to dwell on her slim chances of escape.
Careening around a corner, Lara surprised another Malirran. Before he could lift his weapon or grab her, she struck out with her knife in a move Skye had taught her. It was brutal, bloody, but she didn’t wait around.
Several yards away, without looking back, Lara still felt his death as an empty pocket of air. Her heart stuttered before she could shove her misgivings away. By sheer luck, she bypassed two more guards by sticking to the shadows, slipped past three more buildings, and crept into a filthy alley. The stench made her gag, though she couldn’t stop gulping in more air. The streets were even more heavily patrolled than she thought.
Instead of trusting luck to save her, she needed to use her brain.
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Lara needed a plan. At this point, the Malirrans had every advantage. They could afford to wait her out or hunt her down. Lara glanced up and judged how much time she had. The sky wasn’t as dark as it was even half an hour ago. The sun would rise soon, and she’d lose her one protection.
She needed something in her favor. Hatred and determination crept toward her, and Lara shrank back into the darkest shadows. The foul odor was heavier in this corner, and something squished beneath her boot heel. The stone walls sucked the heat right out of her body.
Glancing up again, she thought of all the movies that had people hiding on top of buildings. She shivered long and hard, whether from the cold air or the sinister emotions she wasn’t certain. What she did know was that she needed to keep moving and stay away from dead-end alleys. She took another breath, not noticing the stench, and forced herself to think through her options.
Wait.
Her shield was a thing of the past; every emotion bombarded her, and it felt as if she moved through oily sludge. Lara was covered with every dark, deadly emotion she could have ever conceived of, but she still fought to keep her sanity. Every bit of energy not used to run from the Malirrans was spent on not drowning in evil. Already tired, she wouldn’t last much longer.
But what if she didn’t fight it? What if she embraced it instead? Chion had mentioned before that others’ emotions gave her strength in a skirmish. Her uncontrolled movements made it impossible for her attackers to predict her next move.
Her real fear was that she wouldn’t come back from it. What happened if her friends managed to save her from the Malirrans but not from her magic? Did she dare take the chance? When yet another guard ran past the alley, Lara knew her chances of survival dwindled with every minute she spent in Gharra.
She edged closer to the mouth of the alley. Concentrating inward, she ignored everything around her. Time seemed to slow as she searched for the elusive thread holding her together. With each breath she took, her heart slowed, beating slower and slower until she felt the blood rushing through her like sluggish drumbeats.
At first, Lara tried to simply snap the final link, but it was harder than she had imagined.
She felt as if she hung off the edge of a cliff and below her was an abyss that roiled with things from nightmares. As much as she tried, her hand stayed stuck to the edge, clinging with all her instincts for survival. Lara gritted her teeth. Finally, she lifted one figurative finger at a time, each finger more difficult than the last.
When the final thread snapped, Lara turned weightless, freefalling backward. She stiffened when she hit the first layer of the abyss. She sank down into the second layer. For a split second, all she felt was oil on her skin. In the next breath, darkness rammed through her, immediately coating her inside and out. And then she relaxed, welcoming the power into her.
Her surrender caused her to open her mouth on a silent scream. Lara shuddered once before her capacity to think disappeared into the emotions that had a stranglehold on the city. Going from weightless to filled to the brim in a single nanosecond whiplashed her entire body. In the place of logic, something primal took over.
Lara no longer existed.
The new being dropped to all fours and inched toward the corner of the building to her left. She ripped the club from its binding under the soft material of her skirt. Then she thought better of it. She carefully put the weapon down and ripped the skirt away from her.
With a quick swipe of her knife, the last of the confining material floated to the ground. After picking the club back up and weighing it in the palm of her hand, she found a better grip on the tool. Both her hands now held a weapon, and it felt good.
A soft huff escaped her mouth; she didn’t allow another. The predator in her and the hunt required stealth.
She waited patiently for her prey to come to her. Seconds and minutes meant nothing.
Two men came into view. A wicked chuckle passed through her lips, and her eyes glittered with manic excitement. Hunching down, putting all her weight on the balls of her feet, she remained where she was.
When the Malirrans were mere feet from her, she exploded from her hiding spot and swung the club up. The weapon hit with a resounding smack under the man’s chin. A killing blow. Still moving forward, she slashed out with her other hand toward the second man’s vulnerable spots. The knife made contact with his stomach, but she snapped her teeth together, unsatisfied with the small wound she made.
More, she needed more.
She twirled around, using her momentum to bolster the impact of the club. A loud snap combined with the sound of a fierce groan, and Lara laughed aloud with joy.
Turning away, she ran down the street hunting for more creatures to maim or kill. She scampered across the open spaces, searching for shadows and hiding places. She felt emotions hiding behind the stones but overlooked them. They were no danger to her. Hunting them was no challenge.
No, the danger pursued her; their resolve added to hers. Where were they? Her head weaved back and forth, up and down, looking for signs.
There. Three men crossed an open path farther down, and she hummed. She cocked her head, listening for others. No one else approached.
Lara crouched where she was, letting them see their quarry. She cackled when they stopped in their tracks and changed direction, coming toward her.
She tilted her head the other way, looking for the weakest adversary. Strong, sure, smooth strides. Confident. They were confident she was trapped. Weakest one to her right.
She readjusted her grip and shivered with anticipation. They circled her, their swords at the ready, but they didn’t attack like she wanted. One of them spoke to her, but it flowed right by her, a buzz of disjointed vocalization that meant nothing.
The part of her brain that was all about survival warned her the one to her right would attack first. The man’s tension radiated from him. Weak, just as she thought.
He stepped forward, and she kicked her foot out, hooking it behind his heel. Metal crashed against stone, and she shuddered at the noise. Vulnerable on the ground, she leapt up and blocked the second man’s kick with her thigh. Hurt.
She chunked the club at the man’s head with a screech that echoed up and down the almost empty stone path. The offensive maneuver gave her enough of an opening that she could move in close to gut him with the knife in her hand. Twisting the knife, she caused enough damage that her enemy was no longer a danger. Dead soon.
In constant motion, she flipped the knife and sliced the weak man across the upper thigh. Fire licked up and down her left arm, but she ignored it. The smell of warm blood reached her, and she sniffed the air with relish. Cocking her head to the side, she growled deep in her throat, then sighed with disappointment. People came from every direction, the sound of fighting like a piece of bloody meat for flies.
The last man sprang toward her, his sword aimed straight at her. Blocking the thrust, she twisted to the right and elbowed him hard in the stomach. As he curled over, she used him as a shield against the other who still fought, though he grew weaker with every thrust. A couple thrusts hit their mark, but it was her living shield, not her. She cackled.
The strangled noises quickly became too much, and she pushed him away with disgust after drawing her knife through his vulnerable spine. The gargled scream cut off, and she grinned when the body hit the ground. Now, both her hands were free to hurt her remaining prey. She danced around him, waiting for an opening. His long weapon kept her back, but she slid back and forth, circling, waiting.
There. She struck like a snake, ripping the tender stomach from groin to ribcage, turned, and flew down the wide path. Blood from the knife dripped to the ground as she sprinted away. Lara kept to the shadows, ignoring her need for rest and air. The thud of her heart drowned out the sound of the enemy approaching.
Couldn’t hear them.
Still, she knew. Their emotions preceded them—a change in air pressure before the storm. Running down another wide path, she reached down for another weapon—a shiv. She had three. Sharp, solid.
The shard of glass reflected the two moon beams, and Lara tucked it to her chest. Her legs moved to the beat of her heart.
A crunch of gravel heralded another group of prey. She didn’t check her stride, shifting her direction instead until she headed straight for the man in front. A throwing knife struck her in the shoulder, and she howled.
The pain made her more determined, and her speed never faltered. Lara rammed into the man with her other shoulder, bowling him back into the others.
Feeling the man’s death like the pop of a soap bubble, she giggled as she flowed to her feet, a weapon in both hands. He’d been killed by his own. The others’ anger scalded her, making her stronger. Her snarl matched theirs in ferocity, and she glided forward.
An arm came from nowhere, wrapping around her neck. She tucked her chin and bit down, tearing a chunk of flesh away. A scream rendered her temporarily deaf in one ear, but the arm disappeared. Spitting the foul taste out, she twirled her shiv around and stabbed him in the thigh.
As soon as the man fell away behind her, she was moving to another. Laughter followed in her wake, and soon she was drenched in blood. A knee to a groin sent a man to his knees, and a knife to the back of his neck rolled him forward. A blow to her face stopped her incessant cackles, but she used the power behind the punch to propel her around, driving the shiv under another man’s ribcage. As the man fell to the ground, he took her weapon with him.
No matter. She reached for another and withdrew it from where it lay trapped against her leg. She feinted to the right and twirled. Using her momentum, the shiv sliced through one arm. Still moving in a circle, the knife made another, deeper wound, leaving the man’s arm useless. Yes.
Their grunts of pain joined her triumphant laughter, and it merged with the sounds of metal against skin and bones. One more died with a shiv through his eye even as she slid away. She used the dead as if they were rocks and fallen trees, and it made it harder for the others still standing to attack. Their growing frustration and anger made her cackle all the louder.
Drowning in the high of hurting and killing the bad men, she didn’t notice the street filling with Malirran warriors.
When Lara was the only one left standing, she looked up through the strands of hair hanging in her face. The taste and scent of iron overrode the other smells. Taking in gulps of air, she stilled, warily watching the two-footed creatures around her.
“Bad. Bad men. Evil, bad. Kill evil.”
She should have understood her own words. She didn’t. They spilled from her, and the volume she spewed them allowed the pack of wolves surrounding her to hear. She watched them exchange wary looks while she rocked back and forth on her feet. Her arms swayed to the beat of her heart.
A deep voice halted her stream of words. She swiveled her head one way, then the other until she located him. Honing in, she focused on him with single-minded interest, saw his mouth moving, but again the burr washed over her.
Nonsense, all nonsense.
Emotions swirled around her—wariness, hatred, fear, determination. They strengthened her, and she screamed her joy of the challenge.
Three men attacked, but she was already moving, laughing at how easy they were to predict. A swipe across one man’s wrist added more iron to the already heady scent.
Solara.
Familiar voice—deep, desperate. Familiar name. She straightened for a second, except her body kept her dancing to a tune only the dark feelings provided her.
She cackled away her sudden unease and grabbed ahold of the venom burning her blood—the enmity all hers. She attacked like a rabid animal, using her weapons, teeth, elbows, knees, and feet to her advantage. She lost another shiv, so she yanked the last one off her leg and turned it against the enemy. Finally, the last one died before her, his gasp a whisper compared to the noise that came before. Silence descended when the body hit the ground.
A scream of victory roared out of her as she turned in a circle, daring the bad, evil creatures standing several yards away to come closer.
“Kill. Kill.”
She froze, shivered. Dropping her head in a predatory move, she hunted for the greater enemy in her midst. She whimpered, feeling the presence of one far more evil coming toward them. She whispered, “Evil, evil coming. Evil here.”
The new enemy looked no stronger or taller than the others, but the dark miasma entwined about the man made him far more dangerous than the pack surrounding her.
Her chest rumbled with warning. She stared at the newcomer, twitching with irritation as more noises came from their mouths. Nothing mattered except for the darkness sinking deeper into her soul.
No other enemy mattered except for him.
Hell had come for her.