Smeeth chuckles, an amused expression on his face. He wipes a mocking tear from his eye. “Or what? Even if you manage to strike me down with your knives, the bullet is always faster than the sword.” He places his gun on Bella’s temple.
Bella purses her lips and stares at me with ferocity. Although she has put on a brave face, she shudders, and I’m not sure if it’s from fear or rage.
“Don’t worry about me,” she says, gritting her teeth with every word. She nods toward the balcony. “The Lost Boys need you. Your family needs you. Just go!”
“I’m not leaving without you, Bella.” I flip one dagger in my hand, its tip aimed at my neck. “Let Bella go, or I’ll slit my own throat.”
Bella struggles in the soldier’s grasp. “Gwen, no!”
Smeeth falters, and the barrel of his gun slips.
Smiling slyly, I squeeze the dagger’s hilt. “Ah! Just what I thought. What would your precious Captain do if I died within meters of you? Shoot you? Feed you to his precious crocodiles? Now, put your weapon down.”
Smeeth’s brows knit together and he drops his revolver, sending it clattering to the floor.
“That’s a good boy,” I say in a mocking tone. “Let. Bella. Go!”
The Marauder doesn’t budge.
I sigh. “Fine. Have it your way,” I say, pulling the knife closer in to my throat. Its razor-sharp point bites into my skin. Warm liquid drips down my neck and seeps into the collar of my shirt.
“All right!” Smeeth shouts, holding a hand out.
With the blade stinging my neck, I wait for him to release Bella. My grip slips, but I clench my fist tighter on the dagger’s hilt.
Pulling his goggles off, the anxiety on Smeeth’s face washes away as his chuckle crescendos into roaring laughter. “Take Bella to the Captain,” he shouts.
The Marauder pulls Bella toward the door. She struggles against his grip as a string of profanity spills from her lips.
“No! I said to let her go!” I shout, but I’m too late. Smeeth rushes me. Distracted, I lose my grip on one of the daggers, and it clatters at my feet. Smeeth lunges for me, pinning me against a wall. He grunts as he struggles to wrest the other knife from my hand, crushing my fingers and sending shooting pain up my arm.
Lightning explodes in the sky, blinding me. Beyond the spots in my vision, Smeeth leans his face close to mine, glowing with triumph. He pants, his breath brushing my face, smelling as foul as a cesspool.
“I’ve been stuck in this rotten city for a year. I am not about to let a little girl snatch away my ticket out of Everland just because she musters a moment of martyrdom.”
“And I’m not about to let a traitorous Englishman have the cure!”
I shove him from me. Smeeth hardly budges but stumbles back just enough for me to wrench my hand holding the knife free from him. He lunges for me again, trying to grab the knife back, but he falls against me. The dagger plunges into his belly. Pain erupts in his dark eyes when the knife buries itself in his stomach. Sticky blood seeps onto my shirt as he collapses into my arms. Horror-stricken, my pulse runs hot beneath my skin.
Smeeth’s eyes glaze over, and he crashes to his knees. He shrieks in agony as he wrenches out the weapon protruding from his stomach before dropping it.
My breaths come quick and gasping. It was an accident, wasn’t it? He charged me, didn’t he? Or was it the other way around?
Smeeth groans once more, his breath heaving before he becomes still. Panicked, I search for Bella. She wrestles with her captor, landing a knee in the soldier’s groin. He crumbles to the floor. Bella launches violent kicks into her captor’s gut as he lies moaning.
I snatch up the dagger I had dropped earlier and dash toward Bella. “Get ready to jump,” I shout in Bella’s ear, jabbing my blade toward an advancing soldier.
Her body stiffens. “It must be at least a three-story drop; there’s no way we’ll make it.”
Shoving back the mounting anxiety, I glance at the ledge and take a step toward it. “We can do it,” I say over the roar of thunder.
Bella shakes her head, her wet fringe sticking to her face. “No, Gwen, it’s too high.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a handful of glittering gold powder. “All we need is a little bit of pixie dust,” I say. I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. The fear in Bella’s face washes away and she takes my hand. We sprint toward the east wall as two Marauders struggle to their feet. A meter before the ledge, I throw a handful of dust into the air, step off the building, and we fly.