Coreene Callahan - Knight Avenged

A hellish hiss slithered from beyond the altar.

Enemy assassins took a breath, pausing mid-fight.

Silence descended. Alive with mystical power, cold air heated and rose. The warm wave rolled up the stairs and slithered around the base of the altar. Stance set, Henrik’s focus narrowed on the lip of staircase. Blond head bent, a man mounted the steps, becoming visible a little at a time. As his boot touched down on the top tread, the assassin lifted his chin. Pulling the blade from the center of his throat, he tossed the dagger aside and met Henrik’s gaze. Orange irises flickered, bright color moving like fire and—

Henrik bared his teeth. Holy Christ. It couldn’t be. Just wasn’t possible. But as he shifted to meet the threat, the truth rose to greet him. He’d have recognized the bastard anywhere. Had spent years under his thumb, trying to survive his brutality inside Grey Keep. Halál, leader of the Al Pacii nation . . . the aging assassin who wielded cruelty like a blade. Except . . .

That wasn’t true. Not anymore.

The bastard was changed in significant ways. Strong of body. Steady of hand. No longer an old man, but a young one with familiar features cast in demonic lines.

With a snarl, Henrik raised his blades.

His former sensei growled and, taking aim, loosed an arrow. The bolt roared from the bow. Time stalled, slowing perception as instinct sparked. Henrik’s heart paused mid-thump. The bowstring twanged. The air warped and realization struck. Halál hadn’t aimed at him. The bastard had found a narrow laneway instead. Had taken the shot and now—

On her knees behind him, Cosmina gasped.

The smell of blood infused the air. Her whimper of pain hit him like a body shot. Not wasting a moment, Henrik spun toward her. He needed to reach her—this instant. To assess the damage and pull her out of harm’s way. Before the charged pause ended and the enemy regained momentum. Before Halál loosed another arrow in her direction, but . . . Jesus help him. The enemy was so close. And he was still too far away.

Boot soles slipping against the floor, Henrik ramped into a run, trying to close the gap. Twelve feet. Now ten . . . then eight sat between him and Cosmina. No small distance. Not great odds that he’d reach her in time, either. Al Pacii assassins aimed well and always shot to kill. Which meant Halál’s skills had grown rusty with disuse. Thank God. Otherwise Cosmina would be dead—done in by an arrow to the heart—instead of injured.

The creak of a bow being drawn sounded behind him.

Henrik pushed himself harder. Goddamn it. She was too vulnerable right now. Sitting out in the open: hunched over on the floor, blood spilling down her side, a black feather-tipped arrow protruding from—

Sweet Christ. He couldn’t tell where she’d been hit. Not from this angle.

Sheathing his sword, Henrik lunged toward her. “Andrei . . . Shay . . .”

“Go!” Green eyes flashing, Shay unleashed his throwing stars. Razor-sharp discs whistled through the air as his comrade shifted to protect his back.

Enemy assassins howled in pain.

Moving to intercept Halál, Andrei snarled and magic flexed. A river of blue flame streamed in behind Henrik. Heat blew toward the ceiling as the inferno snaked across mosaic tiles. Shaped like a viper, ravenous tendrils rose from the temple floor, and fangs bared, filled the chamber with venomous fumes. With a sidewinding shift, the fiery serpent struck. Flames blew outward, shooting over the altar, melting solid gold into liquid metal. As yellow rivulets poured onto the marble floor, the Al Pacii assassins closest to the blaze caught fire.

The stench of burning flesh rolled into the rotunda.

Almost at Cosmina’s side, Henrik stayed low and listened to the flames hiss. A voracious beast, the magical inferno ate the assassins, devouring the enemy with flaming fangs. He heard Halál curse. Glancing over his shoulder, Henrik watched the Al Pacii leader leap backward, away from the blaze, and retreat down the steps.

Breathing hard, Henrik blinked. What the hell? Where had the fire come from? Someone snarled in French. He shifted focus. His gaze landed on Andrei. Jesus be swift and merciful. Was the inferno coming from his comrade? It sure looked like it. Particularly since fire rose like twin swords in Andrei’s hands, the bright blue of the blaze the same color as his eyes.

Startling, but not much of a mystery.

Goddamn the Goddess of All Things. She never stopped meddling. Now she toyed with his comrade, infecting Andrei with magic just as she had him. Not that Henrik felt the need to complain at the moment. With the magical fire burning and Cosmina in trouble, he’d take what he could get and use the inferno for cover. He’d solve the riddle—and unearth the deity’s plan—another time. When the enemy wasn’t at his back. And the woman he’d sworn to protect wasn’t bleeding all over the temple floor.

***

Still counting each click of the key, Cosmina sheathed her second dagger. Not the smartest thing to do, considering a battle raged behind her. The clang of steel resonated in the rotunda, along with unholy snarls and the hammer of footfalls. Goddess keep her, it was all upside down and backward. So completely wrong. She should be moving toward the fight. Should be helping Henrik keep the enemy at bay. Not stowing her blades while she turned her back on the man standing between her and certain death.

Her conscience panged.

Less than a second behind, her sense of fair play thumped on her too.

Cosmina shoved both aside. She didn’t have time for guilt and even less for reflection. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She must get inside the chamber. Which meant getting the combination right. She’d tried twice and failed. Palms slick with sweat, her hand slipped on the key again. She cursed under her breath. Finicky flipping lock. She was running out of time—courage too. Now all she wanted to do was run. Make like a ghost and disappear. Wiping the perspiration from her brow, Cosmina clenched her teeth and forced herself to refocus. She could do it. Stay strong. Stand firm. See her duty done, even if it meant death.

The thought made her hesitate. Just a split a second, but . . .

Cosmina drew in a fortifying breath. She held it a moment and, gaze glued to the disc-shaped key, exhaled in a rush. Pressing her ear next to the lock, she started the sequence again. Another howl of pain echoed behind her. Eyes closed, she blocked out the sound, hearing nothing but each individual click of the lock. Tick-tick-click. All right. First number complete. Now for the second. As she hit the second marker, Cosmina reversed course again. One number left. The most difficult in the sequence. The one she kept getting wrong but—

Tick, tick, click . . . pop. The growl of gears ground into motion.

Cosmina blinked. A second later she retreated, pushing away from the lock. Relief spiraled into triumph, making her throat go tight as the vertical slab shifted sideways in front of her. A narrow slice of light appeared between the door edge and the wall, widening by the moment. The gods keep her. She’d done it. Now all she needed to do was—

Something hit her from behind.

The force of the blow threw her forward. Her cheek banged into the stone wall. Liquid splashed over her shoulder, leaving a heated trail on her skin. Shock spiraled into a sidewinding wave. Cosmina sucked in a quick breath and—

Her arm went numb, dragging her hand away from the key.

She glanced down, then blinked. An arrow with something red running along its length. Time stretched and her mind shut down, delaying comprehension. Cosmina frowned. Blood . . . dear God, it looked like blood —on her cloak, smeared on the black shaft, dripping from the sharp arrowhead. She stared at it a moment, watching liquid pool and individual droplets fall. Another drop splattered against the top of her thigh. Her brain whirled into action, supplying details. Sensation clawed over her shoulder. Agony stole her ability to breathe, pushing the air from her lungs as understanding struck.