“Got her! Bogey down!” the mercenary’s voice was distorted as if I was hearing him through water.
My thoughts were slow and it was hard to concentrate with the persistent ringing noise, but I managed to turn myself on my side. As my vision started to clear I saw the werewolf—still holding his handgun—stalking towards me.
Up. I have to get up! I’m a sitting duck like this!
My fingers twitched—they were numb, but they still responded as I shakily pulled my gun from my holster.
The werewolf was on me before I could raise my gun. He yanked my mask off, using his brutal werewolf strength to rip it off regardless of the fasteners and toss it aside. He then pushed my hood down, revealing my red hair. His left hand was closing around my throat as he held me high enough that my feet dangled over the ground, but close enough that I could smell his acrid breath.
Pain bloomed in my throat and my air was cut off. I had seconds to act before I’d pass out.
“I’m so glad I caught you. I’m going to make you regret all the trouble you gave us.” The werewolf’s smile turned cruel as he dug his fingers into my aching throat.
I squeezed my fingers, confirming he hadn’t bothered to yank my gun from my grasp.
Sloppy.
I slammed my pistol upside his head and he dropped me, collapsing to his knees.
I landed on my feet with a stagger, my limbs still numb as I was more and more sure I was suffering from a concussion. Follow through! Follow. Through. I had to remind myself as the world twirled around me.
I kicked the wolf on the side of the head. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed—most likely also a member of the Recently Concussed Club.
I flicked my handgun safety off and kept the gun out as I took a deep greedy breath. I could only spare a moment to brace myself before I dug into a pocket and pulled out my cellphone.
My throat squeezed when I saw the cracked screen—I must have landed on it when I fell from the ladder or maybe even when I rolled to avoid getting hit by the truck. I tried to wake it up, but the screen remained black.
No contact with anyone. Don’t know where my team is. What do I do?
I tipped back and forth on my feet, nausea making my stomach flop unpleasantly in my gut—but the ringing noise had almost faded, thankfully.
Reluctantly, I put my cellphone back in my pocket and holstered my gun so I could pull out some surgical gauze to pack my gun wound and staunch the bleeding.
I started to roll the gauze as I stepped into the alleyway, intending to call out to my team.
There was no noise or movement within the alleyway. There was a blob of navy-blue cloth splayed over the edge of the green dumpster. The longer I looked at it, the more I suspected it was a task force uniform shirt. They planted it to leave a scent trail and buy time to get away. I did hear a bang when I was in the other alleyway, but—my thoughts stopped when a silhouette stepped between the streetlight and the mouth of the alleyway.
My eyes focused on the shape, but it took my beleaguered brain a few extra seconds to kick in before I recognized Lady Gisila.
She was approaching the alleyway, and Considine was just a few steps behind her. Both looked in my direction and saw my face.
Run! I’ve got to get away, now!
I convulsively clutched my surgical gauze and darted back around the corner, getting out of their view.
Angling away from the alleyway, I ran across the street—my feet were too heavy to sprint—and darted up another road, my mind struggling to process the best path.
Team location is unknown. I have no method of contacting anyone. I’m shot and injured—not mortally, but if I don’t get a fae potion and some medical attention soon it’s going to be close. Gisila and Considine likely both know what I look like now. I can’t expect to run back to the Cloisters solo…what do I do?
I looked up at the buildings around me as I jogged down the sidewalk, belatedly recognizing them.
I was downtown, just a few blocks away from my apartment.
I better go underground.
It was slayer instinct to retreat and hide in a safehouse when hurt—the scent of blood called out to vampires, even if we poisoned them with it. I didn’t fancy having to face any right now when I could barely put one foot in front of the other.
Home. I’ll go home.
I couldn’t tell if I was being followed, I was too out of it. I stopped just long enough to pack my wound, which hurt so much a groan escaped my control, but I didn’t want blood droplets leading Gisila straight to my apartment—even if she’d seen my face.
Regardless, I’d probably need to move and use a disguise now that my face had been seen—and that was the best-case scenario. Possibly, I’d have to leave Magiford altogether.
If I make it out of this alive.
My wound packed, I made myself keep moving—heading towards my apartment. I looked back multiple times, but I never caught sight of anyone.
It wasn’t until I reached my building that I remembered I didn’t have my apartment key, just my emergency one—which opened the lock I’d installed on my window for emergencies.
Why. Why did I get an apartment on the top floor? I dragged myself up the rickety fire escape stairs, wobbling more and more with each step I took.
I was panting—from pain, and because every step I took felt monumentally difficult—by the time I reached the platform outside my window.
My fingers were clumsy as I struggled with the lock, but eventually it clicked open. My vision grew dark as I climbed in through my window, barely remembering to close and lock the window behind me.
The key slipped through my fingers, which were too numb to hold onto anything, and I knocked into the sofa as I stumbled through my tiny makeshift living room.
The ringing was back in my ears as I staggered across the ground, my legs giving out when I reached the doorway of my bedroom. I collapsed on the ground, my vision blurring more.
My body felt like a boulder had been dropped on top of me, it was so difficult to move.
I’ll rest here. For a second. Two seconds.
I briefly shut my eyes, and before I could open them, I felt my consciousness slip through my fingers.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Considine
After several more gunshots, shouts, and muffled gurgles, nothing moved in the alleyway.
Hah. That means Jade and her team did it. The mercenaries would be howling if they’d won. Stupid mutts can’t keep a secret to save their lives.
“Sounds like your team just underwent a very decisive loss,” I said.
“I already told you, Elder Maledictus, these werewolves aren’t mine.” Lady Gisila managed to keep her tone light, even though her facial muscles were convulsively tightening in the silence that had enveloped the alleyway.
She stepped off the curb and started across the street. “But, perhaps, I ought to see if anyone needs help.”