I started to run over to help them, when I saw one more person step into the library—the mystery man from the Razzle Dazzle.
Brown hair, brown eyes, not tall or short or fat or thin. He was as average and forgettable as before, right down to his beige polo shirt and khakis. He stood behind the men, his hands tucked into his pockets, as though he were watching some sort of boxing match instead of Devon and Felix fighting for their lives.
I tightened my grip on my sword and started toward him, betting that if I took him down, some of the fight would go out of the rest of the intruders. But the mystery man saw me coming, and his face pinched into a frown. Our eyes locked, and my soulsight kicked in. Needle-sharp annoyance poked me in the chest, along with something that felt like . . . recognition. I frowned. Did I know the mystery man? I didn’t remember meeting him before, but he seemed familiar—or at least I was familiar to him.
The mystery man saw me coming and let out a low, sharp whistle. Two of the men broke off from the group surrounding Devon and Felix and headed in my direction, cutting me off before I could reach the mystery man. He gave me a cold, thin smile and turned his attention back to the others.
The two men advanced on my position. I didn’t want them to flank me, so I turned and ran back into the children’s section.
The men’s footsteps thump-thump-thumped on the carpet behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder long enough to judge the distance between me and the nearest guy. I raced forward, my eyes locked onto a wooden chair that had been pushed off to one side of the play area. I put on an extra burst of speed, leaped into the chair, and immediately whipped back around, driving my sword through the air. I managed to get high and far enough to launch myself at the man who had been closest to me. My sword sliced into his neck, ripping into his throat. He dropped without a sound, and I pulled my sword back the other way and stepped up to face the next man.
Two down, still many more to go.
I just managed to raise my sword when the next man attacked me. His sword zip-zip-zipped through the air, and too late, I realized he had a speed Talent.
We broke apart after a particularly fast exchange in which I only managed to parry his blows by instinct rather than by actually seeing them coming. Sweat slicked down my face, and my hands were hot and clammy around the hilt of my sword. If my attacker hit it just the right way, he’d knock the black blade from my hand, and then I’d be done for.
My eyes flicked right and left, looking for something that would help me, and my gaze latched on to another chair and the wooden table behind it. I swung my weapon out in a wide, reckless arc, but it had the desired effect of making my attacker leap back. I turned and ran, but I didn’t go far. I started to hop onto the seat of the chair, but the man used his speed magic to zoom past me and leap into the chair instead, making me pull up short.
“Oh, so sorry, chickie,” the man crowed, waggling his sword at me. “Did I take your spot? What are you going to do now?”
I grinned. “This.”
I kicked the chair out from under him.
The man yelped in surprise, his legs flying out from under him as he toppled back onto the table, just as I wanted him to. His speed, his magic, only gave him an advantage if he was on his feet—and now he wasn’t.
I darted forward and slashed my sword across his chest, making him scream with pain, but he still managed to lash out with his own blade.
This time, I was the one who screamed.
“Lila!” I thought I heard Devon shout my name above the clashes, clangs, and snarls of the fight, but I couldn’t be sure.
Lucky for me, my attacker’s aim was low, and the edge of his sword only caught me in my left thigh, and not across my gut. Still, the wound hurt, like a line of fire running across my leg, and I could feel blood sliding down my skin. Since the blow hadn’t been caused by any magic, my own Talent didn’t kick in, and the wound didn’t make me stronger.
My attacker rolled off the table, regained his balance, and lunged at me again. Given my injury, he managed to knock my legs out from under me, and I went down on one knee next to a bookcase, all the air driven out of my lungs. The man loomed over me, grinning. He drew his sword back, ready to drive it into my skull.
I sucked down a breath and managed to roll to my right. The man’s sword stabbed into the spot where my head had been a second before, spearing a book on the shelf there. He let out an angry roar and shook his sword, trying to get the book to fly off the end of the blade.
I landed on my injured leg, and more pain shot through my body, making me hiss, but I managed to stagger back up and onto my feet. The man finally hurled the book off the point of his sword and charged at me again, moving even faster than before. There was no way I could kill him, not now.
Not without using my transference Talent to make me strong enough to keep fighting.
This time, instead of raising his sword, the man drew back his fist. I closed my eyes, stood my ground, and let him punch me in the face. One, two, three. That’s how many blows he landed in quick succession, using his speed Talent, before I managed to stagger back out of his reach.
But it was worth it when the sharp, stinging pain from his punches froze into that bitter, bitter cold that filled my body, giving me the strength to surge forward again.