“Let me go!” a young man shrieked.
I heard the familiar sound of physical blows—a skirmish up ahead. As I drew closer to the Dumpster, my heart thumped wildly. A bald-headed guy with rolls of skin behind his neck was straddling a man who might have been my age. With immortals, you could never tell. I didn’t look over twenty-five, and that was the age I’d forever remain even when I was three thousand. Sometimes you could sense a person’s true age in their eyes, and other times it had to do with how submissive and fearful they were in dangerous situations. This kid was new, and I picked up on his Mage energy. He was flaring, perhaps hoping that would lead someone to help him.
All it would do was attract the wrong kind of attention in a dark alley.
Like the juicer on top of him, gripping his hands and drawing out his energy for a high.
The young man’s head bobbed in my direction, his eyes glazed over, his nose a bloody mess.
Something came over me like I’d never felt before, even when taking out a lowlife. I felt rage.
Pure. Raw. Rage.
As I stood witness to the evil that thrived in our world, I wanted to kill every corrupt Breed in Cognito.
I wanted to be the Shadow for real.
Chapter 20
As I approached the two men, I drew my push dagger and then sliced it across the juicer’s back. “Get up, you filthy bastard.”
He roared and launched to his feet, raking me over with his heavy-lidded eyes.
Men like him deserved to die—deserved to suffer as their victims had. Why had I wasted time with only the most nefarious men when corruption came in lesser degrees? These men should be stamped out before they hurt more innocents.
He was high on Mage light, and that made him especially dangerous. I’d never been a fighter; I just knew how to move fast and get the job done. Still, the possibility of failure hovered as I took note of the openness of the alley, shifting my stance in search of a good angle so the Mage wouldn’t flash out of my grasp.
Which he did.
The juicer flashed beside me and put me in a headlock, seizing my wrist with his other hand. He squeezed until a sharp pain radiated through the bones in my wrist, but I refused to drop my dagger. I adjusted my grip on the handle and then rotated my hand in a circle until the blade slashed his arm. With nothing to stanch the bleeding, rivulets of blood ran down his arm, causing him to loosen his bruising grip on my wrist. I bit into his other arm and stomped my foot, seeking his instep with the heel of my boot in hopes he’d let go of my neck.
Tiny pinpoints of light flashed around me like pulsing stars.
We struggled, and when my blade pierced through his fleshy thigh, he let go. I staggered forward—gasping for air—and just as I pivoted on my heel, he struck me in the face with a closed fist.
Blood filled my mouth, the metallic taste triggering my fangs to descend. I quickly concealed them, relying on the element of surprise when he got close enough. All I could do was stand my ground and wait for him to advance.
The juicer paced around me with cool confidence despite a slight limp from the deep puncture wound on his right thigh. He reminded me of a cowboy getting ready for a gunfight.
“You’re not exactly seasoned,” he said. “Didn’t your Creator teach you how to defend yourself?”
I wasn’t concealing my energy, so he knew what I was.
Or thought he knew.
He flicked a glance at my dagger, and I tightened my grip on the T-shaped handle, keeping it close to my body. When he flashed at me the second time, I spun around—anticipating his attack from behind—and sank the blade into his chest. It wasn’t a stunner, so it wouldn’t paralyze him, but it would be painful enough to slow him down. Or so I thought. He pulled out the blade and tossed it across the alley, then gripped my neck with both hands.
Two long blades crossed in front of his throat from someone standing behind him—someone I couldn’t see.
“Let her go or I’ll slice off your head two ways,” I heard Niko say.
The man held his hands up, surrendering.
Niko kept his swords crossed, the sharp blades flush against the man’s neck. “I’m going to turn around, and you’re going to turn with me. Once you’re facing the street, I want you to walk. If you look back, I’ll show no mercy. Is that clear?”
A small trickle of blood trailed down the man’s neck, and his eyes widened in terror. “Yes,” he said, his voice quavering.
I glanced behind me at the empty space where the victim had once been. He had already fled the scene. When Niko turned and lowered his weapons, the man slowly staggered out of sight.
Niko’s dark hood obscured most of his face, giving him a formidable appearance with his stature, his sharp instruments in hand. He waited quietly while I walked around him and collected my dagger.
“Would you have known if he turned around?” I asked.