Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(85)

Feet pound, coming close behind us. I swing around, my hand in a tight fist of rage. I punch hard, and my knuckles connect with something—hopefully the bastard’s face.

He grunts, but then I can’t feel him. I jump up and swipe out again. He’s gone. I remember how fast he came back at Ailesse, and grab the knife she dropped. I blindly attack the air.

I still can’t find him, but I don’t give up. I keep slashing, stabbing, striking. I’ve never felt more murderous. If he touches her again—

She staggers to her feet. “Give me back the knife.”

“No.”

“Bastien, I’ve trained to be a Ferrier. I’m—”

A frantic scream splits the air.

It’s not the Chained man.

Ailesse and I exchange a quick glance and race toward the sound. She takes the lead.

The far end of the quarry is mostly caved in, smashed by the bricks of the great house above it. We climb around the first massive chunk of broken limestone.

My heart stops.

Jules.

She clutches her throat and hovers like she’s dangling from an invisible noose.

“Bastien, the knife!” Ailesse shouts. “He’s choking her!”

I pass it. She throws it.

She has remarkable aim, because the knife suddenly stills in the air—a handsbreadth from Jules’s face.

Jules crashes to her knees and sucks in a ragged breath.

I hop off the limestone and run for her.

The knife that’s lodged in the air pulls back. Lowers. Turns and points at Jules.

“No!” I barrel toward the Chained. But I’m too far away.

The knife arcs down and tears across Jules’s arm. She throws her head back and screams.

I’ll kill him. I don’t care if he’s already dead. I’ll kill him harder.

I grab below the hilt of the knife and find his wrist. I wrench his arm. He howls in pain, and the knife falls.

Ailesse races to my side and catches it up off the ground. She holds it with both hands, raises her arms, and stabs the blade downward. Another howl. Ailesse jumps to the right, anticipating a counterattack.

My fist flies and hits the Chained. But when I strike again, I miss.

Ailesse’s shoulder flinches back. Then her leg. He’s prodding her backward. She slashes with her knife, but can’t find him.

I pick up a stone. “How do we defeat him?”

She cuts the air and hits nothing. “We can’t.” Her other shoulder jerks back, harder this time. The Chained is driving her into a corner. “We just need to stun him long enough to get away.”

I run toward the empty space she’s fighting. “How are we supposed to do that?”

“I have no idea.”

I throw the stone. It hits something solid and bounces off. Ailesse’s knife doesn’t stop thrashing. I’ve done nothing to slow down the Chained man. Merde. I don’t want us to die down here.

“Ailesse!” Jules says. She pulls something off from around her neck—the coin pouch with Ailesse’s grace bones. “Catch!” She tosses it.

Ailesse’s eyes follow the flying pouch. She jumps and grabs its leather strings. She quickly drops my father’s knife and kicks it across the floor to me. By the time I pick it up, the pouch is around her neck. Her jaw muscle flexes, her shoulders square, and her gaze focuses just to her left.

She sees the Chained man.

With a great burst of speed, she turns around and charges straight for the corner of the quarry the Chained man has been backing her into. She leaps and springs off one corner wall and pushes off the next. She zigzags upward, catching handholds and footholds. When she reaches the high ceiling, she shoves off the wall and slingshots the other way. Her body twists to face the quarry. Toward the space where the Chained man must be.

She throws a vicious punch with all her momentum. The Chained must be hurtling backward from the strike.

Ailesse lands on her feet and bolts for a target several feet in front of her. She jumps and pounces on something in midair. Her legs grip it like a vise. Her elbow wraps around what should be the Chained man’s neck. She squeezes so hard her body trembles.

I launch toward her. “Will he pass out?”

“No.” She grunts. “But he can feel the suffering.”

“Good.” I plunge my knife into his invisible chest and twist the blade. I feel him spasm and buckle to the ground. Ailesse drops with him, and her hold breaks. He yanks out the knife and casts it a few yards away. He shoves me to the ground. I roll back a couple feet.

“Don’t let him go!” Ailesse fumbles to right herself.

“Where is he?” I swing around.

“He’s right—” Ailesse points. Frowns. Turns in every direction. A strand of hair catches at the edge of her mouth. She scales the chunk of limestone and stands on top for a better view. She glances around for the chains or whatever it is she sees.

Someone taps the back of my shoulder. I startle and turn, but it’s only Jules.

“Bastien . . .” she says on a faint breath.

Her face is alarmingly pale. Her sleeve is drenched in blood.

My pulse trips. I reach for her.

Her head droops, and she doubles over.

No, no, no.





39


Ailesse