Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(28)

He lunged for her with his empty hand, his sword brought wide and out of the way. Mistrust was one thing, but killing another. Sanders was not about to kill a woman. Great news.

Shanti peeled to the side while grabbing his wrist and tugging, knocking him off balance. She pummeled two punches to his small ribs, gave a chop to his inner leg near his balls, and then stepped back. He gave one hobble before pausing, his brain distracted by that kick near his vulnerable area. She used it to give him a hard kick to his kidney, hoping he’d go down.

He didn’t. He staggered, his eyes flaring with battle rage. It was about to get interesting.

He punched, fast as lightning, ready to tackle her to the ground after the punch landed. It didn’t.

She wiped his hand away, pivoted, and kicked him in the face. Her foot slapped off his chin. His head whipped back, his body staggering with it.

Junice started screaming.

Shanti braced for a follow-up kick to Sanders, trying to finally down the stubborn jackass, when her eyes caught movement to the side. Something was barreling toward her.

Not something, someone.

It was a tall man with shoulders getting bigger by the minute. The impact knocked the breath out of her. They tumbled to the ground, rolling to a stop against the bed frame. Junice’s screams intensified.

Shanti used her legs to buck him off, hopping up while he tried to get his limbs organized. She threw another kick at Sanders, to keep him put, before spinning back toward Sanders’ hero. He was up now, too, his reaction time as quick as Sanders’, unfortunately. Barely swiveling, she threw an elbow into his face. He staggered backward, his leg catching on the dresser and sending him to his butt.

The hero was scrambling up yet again, bloody determined. So was Sanders.

These guys were starting to get on her nerves. They took a helluva beating and kept on coming.

Shanti threw a roundhouse kick, knocked Sanders back onto furniture, and turned to the attacking hero. She met him head on, barreling punches into his chest and stomach, then swiping his eyes and getting him in position for a mighty throw. When he responded, she grabbed, pivoted, turned, and used his momentum to throw his body over her shoulder, straight through the window. Breaking glass competed with Junice’s shrieks.

Shanti was out after him the next second, feeling Sanders’ fingers slip along her sweaty leg.

She had to get out of town. This little stunt just cemented that fact. Soon this city would be asking questions to the wrong people, and the Graygual would swoop down after her.

Unfortunately, the time had also come to fulfill her duty. She couldn’t leave another person with the Gift for the Graygual to claim. It was a situation of sacrificing one to save many. It had to be done.

With a heavy heart, she took off at a sprint, heading toward the closest member of the Honor Guard, which was Xavier. The members of her Guard were the only ones in this city who would not only believe her, but help without comment. She ducked through the unlocked door and quietly jogged through the house, having a rough idea of which bedroom was his since he pointed it out every time they passed the house.

Stepping into, what she hoped was, the right room, she heard the loud snoring of what could only be him. He had one sister—younger women just didn’t get the same volume as a man in the snoring department. Half falling over the many pieces of debris that littered the floor, she reached his bedside. She gave him a little shove and paused, waiting to see if he would spring. He wasn’t battle trained, so he probably didn’t have those reactions yet, so she wasn’t surprised when he only mildly startled.

“Shanti?” Xavier asked in that supreme confusion one gets when waking up out of a deep sleep.

“Yes. I need to know where my weapons are. I am not asking you to fetch them, but I need to know where they are.”

“The Captain has them. Are you naked? Oh—“ Xavier was suddenly wide awake.

“Yes, yes, br**sts, I know.” She had briefs on, but still didn’t understand the philosophy of the nightgown. “Anyway, where does the Captain live? Or where does he have them?”

Something new wavered into her awareness. It was violent. The expectation was growing. It was becoming thick now. She could almost see it, red and orange filaments sifting through the dark room. Those gathered were preparing for battle, working themselves into a fever pitch. She’d felt it before.

A constricting panic started to wrap itself around her midsection. Flashbacks of Chase’s mother, of the dark streets flicking in firelight, houses on fire, children screaming, people running na**d and bloody through the streets--

“Xavier, get up. Now! Get up. Something is coming. Something is happening! Get dressed! Warn people! Where is the most secure location in the city?”

“Wha—“

“Answer me!”

“The town bunker.”

“Get your family there. The children. Your friends. Everyone that can’t fight. Get them there. Hurry!”

“Okay. The Captain is in the heart of the city. Big mansion. You hid in the rafters once then dropped down on Leilius.”

“Get them to safety.”

“Wait, clothes!”

And shoes. She’d need shoes.

In a moment Shanti had slipped into some garments Xavier wore under his clothes when it got cold. Unlike on him, they were anything but tight. She was given his sister’s leather shoes, which were slightly too small, but supple. They would do. She took his throwing knives just in case, since he wasn’t excellent with them anyway, and was gone, sprinting across the city, yelling as she went. She wanted to warn as many people as possible—or at least wake them up.