Blood Heir (Aurelia Ryder, #1)(27)

“Charger?” Larry called out.

I rounded the corner and pressed myself against the wall. He was out in the street, just a few feet away. Dougie curled into a ball to Larry’s right.

Hold on. I’m coming.

Twenty yards down the street, in the direction I had been coming from, the shooter stared at the ruins. He gripped his rifle with his right hand. His left pressed some cloth against his injured eye. The giant was gone.

“Charger! Get back here, boy.”

I lunged from behind the building and thrust the spear into the handler’s back. The metal blade slid into flesh, ripping the kidney and liver on its way up. Larry gasped. I twisted the spear in the wound. He moaned in an oddly high voice. It would take him a long time to bleed out, and it would hurt every moment. He would never put another child on a chain.

Larry’s body jerked on my spear. A bullet bit into his stomach. The sound of the rifle was like the popping of a firecracker. Sudden lack of depth perception was hell on aiming.

“Larry, get out of the way!” the shooter yelled.

I spun Larry to my left, using his bulk as a shield, pulled the spear free and sprinted back to the ruin. Behind me the rifle cracked again, the bullet whizzing by to ricochet off a brick wall half a foot away. I ducked around the corner and kept moving, to the spot where two rectangular columns had once framed the entrance. I hid behind the first column and waited.

The handler whimpered, fragments of incoherent words slipping out between his sobs.

“Fuck you,” the shooter muttered from my right. “Fuck you, bitch, fuck you…”

That’s right. Come closer.

“I’ll fucking find you. I’ll blow your head off.”

A boot came into view.

“I’ll shoot you in both eyes and—”

He gurgled as Dakkan’s blade slid though his neck. His remaining eye bulged, his mouth opened… He tried to say something, but blood was gushing from his throat, staining his skin bright red.

A dark shape swung off the roof and dropped on top of me. There was no time to free the spear. I dodged left, desperately trying to get clear. A boot landed on my thigh. Pain exploded all the way to the bone. The glancing blow tossed me into the air like a ragdoll. I flew, curling into a ball, straight into the soft embrace of a brick pile, and landed on my side. Ow.

The world swam. I clawed through the fog of blurry vision. The giant was stomping toward me, brandishing his club. If I had been a touch slower, he would have broken my femur. I couldn’t afford to be hit again.

I jumped to my feet. The giant bore down on me, swinging the club, eyes cold. I shied left, then right, the club whistling inches from my face. He was between me and my spear, pushing me against the brick heap. If even a single blow connected, I was dead.

He struck again and again. Left, right, left…

I ducked, avoiding a blow, grabbed a brick off the pile, and hurled it at his face. It hit him square between the eyes and bounced off. He roared, the red brick dust raining off his forehead.

Fuck.

He swept the club right to left. I dropped under his swing and ran right, the only way I could, leaping over refuse toward a side street. My leg screamed in protest. Every step hammered a hot spike of pain into my thigh.

I reached the side street and glanced back.

He hung the club back on his hip. Slowly, casually, the giant leaned forward onto his arms. Something in his pelvis shifted with a crack. The line of his spine realigned. He sprinted toward me on all fours.

What the hell…

He loped toward me in a familiar disjointed gait, the kind of stride that the human body wasn’t made for but was unnaturally fast. In a fraction of a second my mind crunched the numbers. He would catch me. I couldn’t outrun him even if my leg wasn’t on fire with pain. He gave me a head start because he knew it.

He ran like a vampire.

I would treat him like one. I pulled a knife from the sheath on my belt. My uncle’s voice echoed in my head. Wait for it. Breathe.

Twenty yards.

Fifteen.

Eight.

Three.

Now, Hugh’s voice commanded.

I sidestepped. The giant’s momentum carried him past and I swung my knife, straight down on the back of his neck. The blade bit into his vertebrae, slicing deep into cartilage. He rolled forward, blood drenching his shoulders and back, came up into a crouch, and leaped at me.

Son of a bitch. He should have dropped like a stone. He should have been paralyzed.

I dodged but not far enough. A huge arm swept me into a bear hug. I jerked my right arm up to keep it clear. He reared, yanking me off the ground, his arms crushing me. My ribs screeched with agony. The world turned black and fuzzy at the edges.

I sank my knife into his eye. He howled, and I stabbed him in the ear. He flung me aside like a feral cat. I rolled clear and came onto my feet. Suddenly there was air. My lungs hurt with every breath.

The giant rushed at me, flailing wildly, kicking, swinging, a bloody hole where his eye used to be. His neck gushed blood. I backed away toward the main street. He chased me, but his movements grew sluggish. Dodging him now was child’s play. I walked him all the way to where the boy still lay on the pavement.

The giant was breathing heavily now, each exhale a tortured gasp.

I crouched by Larry’s body and came up with his machete.

A sudden realization flared in the giant’s remaining eye. He turned.