‘There is no choice left. Humanity as you know it is in its final days.’
Lincoln drove his dagger into the exile’s heart, the glistening colours of his power misting the immediate area as he sent the exile to face his judgement. By the time the exile disappeared, Lincoln was facing the next one to deliver the same question.
They had a choice. But not one ever chose this.
Why? I wondered for the millionth time.
Why can’t they see?
Even while they live as men – apart from a few rare exceptions, who take female forms – in our world they have no idea what it is to be human. They don’t see the beauty that emotions bring and a physical body provides. When they exile and find human form, only insanity awaits.
All six chose the same end. Lincoln and I were methodical, but we knew each time what answer to expect. As soon as the last one was returned I spun to check no partygoers had stumbled across the scene, just in time to see the four exiles I’d been too preoccupied to sense drop from the rooftops on either side of us.
Before I had a chance to unleash my power again, I caught a fist to the face and a foot to the gut. There was no way around this one but combat.
Again Lincoln didn’t hesitate. He faced the two who had landed closest to him while I quickly found my footing and tended to the other two. Of course, just as I thought that this wouldn’t be too bad, another two dropped down in front of me.
Shit.
The sounds of flesh against flesh echoed from the narrow street as Lincoln and I fought hard. I took down one exile quickly, but the other three boxed me in and I copped it from all sides. I saw the glow of Lincoln’s power in my peripheral vision, relieved to see he’d dispersed one of his opponents.
I took a few hard hits to the side of my face, and damn if my temple didn’t want to explode as I felt my nose trickle blood. I managed to angle my dagger up and take out one more exile, leaving me with two to deal with.
I saw Lincoln’s power erupt again and I quickly divided myself off from one of the exiles now facing me, knowing that Lincoln would pick up the slack. But the one fighting me was tall and had a footballer’s muscular and wide build. On top of that, he was old and therefore experienced, which made him fast and strong. With the beating I’d already taken, he was quickly gaining ground on me. When I kicked out hard, causing his arm to snap back, he struck me hard across the side of my face, the force throwing me to the ground. I shuffled backwards.
He shook his head, smiling. And then he stepped on my hand, breaking the small bones instantly and causing me to lose my grip on my dagger.
I really hate that.
I kept scurrying back as he prowled over me. ‘Like all the rest of them in the end, aren’t you? Crawling on your hands and knees? Just as you should.’
I let him talk. They couldn’t help themselves, especially if they got one up on me. Their egos simply exploded.
‘Will you beg now?’ he goaded.
While he told me I was the scum of the universe and that he would take pleasure in feeding my insides to the river rats, I gradually edged back and reached for the arrow resting against my spine.
Lincoln’s power erupted one more time and I heard him run in my direction, screaming my name. But I kept my eyes fixed on the exile – who had just stunned me by pulling out a gun.
Exiles have no ethics. It’s a well-understood fact for all Grigori that exiles will kill them with no regret, but we hardly ever see guns. Exiles can barely contemplate the idea of giving up a barehanded kill to a human-made weapon. They enjoy the power of blades, sure, but not guns.
My eyes went wide as he cocked the safety, smiling even as he cradled his left arm, which looked broken.
And will heal in about one minute.
I knew that if Lincoln threw himself in front of me, the exile would shoot him dead. Desperate to protect Lincoln, I let my eyes dart to him quickly and called out just two words. ‘Trust me!’
I didn’t have time to look back again. I half expected the exile to already be turning on Lincoln and firing, but instead he maintained his stance over me, kicking me hard on my shin for good measure. I grunted. It hurt like hell and had my vision blacking out for a second, but I was fairly certain he hadn’t broken it.
My fingers touched my arrow.
I just have to get it out and tip it with my blood.
Suddenly grateful I hadn’t bothered with my wrist cuffs since taking them off at dinner, my hand wrapped around the arrow and I moved it down from underneath my shirt, my broken and trembling hand somehow holding me up.