Modina tested the ropes on her wrists, but the movement only caused them to bite deeper. Merrick Marius and two men she did not know had dragged her off the bridge and into a nearby warehouse. Saldur was allowed to walk freely. The building was cavernous, abandoned, and in need of repair. Broken windows let in snow, which drifted across the bare floorboards. Torn sacks and broken glass littered the floor.
“Excellent, my boy. Excellent.” Saldur addressed Merrick Marius as another man cut his hands free. “I will honor my offer to reward you handsomely. You will—”
“Shut up!” Merrick ordered harshly. “Get them both upstairs.”
One of the men threw Modina over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carried her up the steps.
“I don’t understand,” Saldur said, even as the other stranger steered him upstairs too.
“This isn’t over,” Merrick replied. “DeLancy is dead. You have no idea what that means. The scales are balanced. The demon is unleashed.”
He said more, but his voice faded as Modina was carried up several flights. The man carrying her dropped her in an empty room on the third floor. He pulled a wad of twine from his pocket and bound her ankles tight. When he was done, he moved to the broken window and peered out.
Moonlight fell across his face. He was a short, husky brute with a rough beard and flat nose. He wore a dark cowl over a coarse woolen garnache, but Modina’s eyes were focused on the leather girdle from which two long daggers hung. He crouched on one knee, looking at the street below.
“Be very quiet, miss,” he murmured, “or I’ll have to slit your throat.”
With trembling hands, Royce laid Gwen’s lifeless body near the side of the bridge. He closed her eyes and kissed her lips one last time. Folding her arms gently across her chest, he covered her as best he could with the rough, oversized cloak as if putting her to bed. He could not bring himself to cover her face and stared at it for a long while, noting the smile she wore even in death.
Turning from her, he got up and, without conscious thought, found himself crossing the bridge.
“Stop right there, Royce!” Merrick shouted when he had reached the far side.
From the sound and angle of his voice, Royce knew Merrick was on the second floor of the warehouse.
“All of the lower doors and windows are sealed. I have a man with a dagger to the empress’s throat.”
Royce ignored him. He deftly climbed up the closest lamppost, shattered the lantern, and snuffed out the flame. He repeated this twice more, darkening the area.
“I mean it, Royce,” Merrick shouted again. The tinge of panic in his voice betrayed that his old partner could no longer see him. “Don’t make the mistake of killing another innocent woman tonight.”
Royce tore the bottom of his cloak and soaked the scrap in the lamppost reservoir. Then he walked to the warehouse.
“You can’t get to me without killing her!” Merrick shouted again. “Get back where I can see you.”
Royce began coating the base of the walls with oil.
“Damn it, Royce. I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill her. It wasn’t me.”
Royce struck a light, catching the oiled cloth on fire, and pushed it under the door. The wood was old and dry, and the flames hungrily took hold. The brisk winter wind did its part, spreading flames to the clapboard sides.
“What are you doing?” asked Saldur’s voice, rising in terror. “Marius, do something. Threaten to cut Modina’s throat if he doesn’t—”
“I did, you idiot! He doesn’t care about the empress. He’s going to kill us all!” Marius shouted.
The flames spread quickly. Royce went back for more oil to lure the fire across the timbers. The exterior of the storehouse blazed, and sheets of flame raced upward. Royce stepped back and watched the building burn. He felt the heat on his face as the flaming building lit up the street.
Shouts came from inside, fighting to be heard over the crackling of the fire. Royce waited, watching the cloverleaf insignia burn away.
It was not long before the first man jumped from a second-story window. He managed to land well enough, but Royce was on him in an instant. Alverstone flickered in the firelight. The man screamed, but Royce was in no hurry and took his time. He cut the tendons of the man’s legs, making it impossible for him to run. Then, sitting on his chest, he severed the man’s fingers. It had been a long time since Royce had used Alverstone to dismember someone. He marveled at how well the white dagger cut through the toughest cartilage and even through bone. Royce left the first man to bleed when he noticed another one jump. This one came from a third-story window. He landed awkwardly, and Royce heard a bone break.
“No!” the man cried, struggling to crawl away as Royce’s dark form flew toward him. The man scraped desperately at the snow. Once more, Royce was slow and methodical. The man howled with each cut. When he stopped moving, Royce removed his heart. He stood up, drenched in blood, his right arm soaked to the elbow, and threw the organ through the window the man had leapt from.
“You’re next, Saldur,” he taunted. “I can’t wait to see if you actually have one or not.”