More of Charles’s men poured out of the street in front of Shea. Even with Fallon, Clark, and the person Shea assumed was Fiona, they were outmatched.
There was a woman’s cry of pain. Charles rose to his feet, the sword in his hand bloody. He aimed a kick at his attacker.
“Fiona,” Clark cried, running for the other woman.
“You can’t win,” Charles shouted at Clark, who ignored him.
Shea’s eyes rose to the buildings beside them, shadows lurking on top of them. Bright eyes flashed from above.
“No, I think it’s you who can’t win,” Shea said in a soft voice, her focus still on what waited above.
A frigid wind picked up around them, rustling Shea’s hair and plucking at her clothes with harsh hands. She could almost hear voices in the air. A tingle skated along her skin, a sensation very similar to that of the mist.
Betrayal. Weapons. A path.
All the ingredients were there.
“What would you know?” Charles said, ignoring Shea. His voice was ugly, no hint of the shy, studious man of before in it. “They treat me worse than the throwaways simply because of a birth defect. He’s the worst of them.”
Charles pointed at Fallon, his face a mask of disgust. “Patting me on the head, saying good job with that stupid beast board. Elevating your little friends who lied to him, lied to us all, to protect you. When meanwhile, I exist on the scraps of the kindness of his elite.”
“You need to stop this,” Shea said, edging towards Clark and where he knelt by Fiona. “You won’t like the consequences of what comes next.”
He scoffed. “Big words from a throwaway who is about to die. There are changes coming. We’ve already got the backing, people willing to support us when you and he are gone.”
“Whose backing?” Fallon asked. “Who has been whispering in your ear?”
Charles regarded Fallon with narrowed eyes. Shea couldn’t believe she had never seen the snake at his heart. It was obvious now, here at the end. How had she not seen it before?
“Shea, Fiona needs immediate help if she is going to survive,” Clark said in a soft voice as she neared.
She knelt at his side and pressed her hand to Fiona’s wound. The other woman’s skin was pale, but her eyes fierce. One hand snapped up to grasp Shea’s in a tight grip.
“Do your worst, pathfinder. Don’t let him get away with this,” Fiona panted around a bloodthirsty grin.
Shea returned that grin with a fierce one of her own. “I will. You stay alive.”
Fiona made a choked sound and nodded, pain making her eyes go vague for a moment.
“What are you doing?” Charles asked as she stood and walked to the middle of the street.
She ignored him as she knelt and brushed her bloody hand against the stone. “I’ve made my choice and chosen my path.”
“Get up before I order the rest of you killed,” Charles called. Shea could hear the scrape of his limp as he shuffled closer.
Shea stood, leaving a bloody handprint as evidence of her pact. She turned, her eyes meeting Fallon’s. She gave him a soft smile, putting all the love she had for him into it. Her eyes moved to Charles and her smile faded, leaving nothing but grim determination behind.
Charles and his men moved toward her, leaving only the other two horsemen to guard Fallon and Braden. Not that it mattered. Soon, nothing they did would matter.
She met Charles’ gaze, repeating what she had said earlier. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Charles made a disgusted sound. “What are you talking about?
“You shouldn’t have hurt Fiona. You shouldn’t have betrayed your Warlord. They don’t like people who break faith. Now you will pay.”
“Who is she talking about,” one of his men asked.
“Perhaps she’s gone loopy,” said one of the others.
“You’re all going to die,” Shea said with a small smile.
The four traded uneasy glances.
Charles rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to her. She’s trying to scare you.”
“I don’t know. It’s felt like someone has been watching us ever since we entered.”
Charles slapped the man who had spoken in the back. “It’s a trick. She’s trying to divide us.”
Shea watched the interactions with a blank expression. Her eyes moved to Fallon and Braden as their captors herded them closer. “Do nothing. Show no violence, and you may live.”
“That’s enough out of you.” Charles backhanded Shea. The blow turned her head and opened a cut on her lip. She lifted her head and smiled, her teeth bloody.
A spine-chilling moan echoed from above them, the sound rising until it turned into a cackle.
Charles and his men jumped, brandishing their weapons at the city.
“What was that?” one shouted.
Shea watched them with an implacable expression.
One of the men stepped toward her, “You heard him. What was that?”
She looked at him for a long moment before saying one word, a smile twisting her expression. “Death.”
A wall of wind hit, blowing Shea’s hair into her face and obscuring her vision for a moment. She was grateful, especially when a great presence, one that held the chill of the coldest winter on the longest day in the darkest night passed her. There were some things not meant to be seen by human eyes.
“Fallon, shut your eyes,” Shea ordered.
Screams filled the air, the kind that came from the soul as the body was ripped apart. Shea knew she would hear their death screams in her nightmares until the day she left this world. Screams filled with agony and fear, ripped from the gut, every person’s worst nightmare given voice. There was the sound of running before more screaming came. Shea kept her eyes tightly shut, even as the presence in the air strengthened.
The screams ended, the silence left behind scarier than anything that had gone before. Shea’s pulse thundered in her ears and the sound of her breathing overwhelmed her.
Very good, daughter of my enemy’s enemy.
“Are you going to kill me now?” Shea asked.
The presence hesitated, filling the air with—was that surprise?
Would you like us to?
Shea shifted and frowned. She hadn’t thought she had a choice in the matter.
Ah, we see. You thought a blood sacrifice would be necessary.
She had. Otherwise, why had they waited to act? If they had attacked sooner, Fiona wouldn’t have been injured.
The sacrifice has already been paid, and you and the other four hold no weapons and no ill intentions. Besides, that would have defeated the purpose of saving you now and before.
Before? Shea couldn’t help it. She opened her eyes, a bluish haze spread across the ground, thick in some places, sparse in others.
“You’re the one who left the jacket on the post,” Shea said in realization. She sensed rather than saw the beings nod of agreement. “Why did you help us?” Shea asked so she wouldn’t be tempted to argue with the presence. She sensed if she pushed, they might decide she and her friends were fair game as well.
Curiosity. Necessity. We have a vested interest in your continued well-being.
“What do you mean?”