Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(98)

“Stop!” he commanded. He held the staff before him, and the crystal at the top flared white. Marcello covered his eyes and cried out, forced to step back from the light.

I felt nothing. The light was bright, I could see it in Marcello’s reaction, but it didn’t burn my eyes, didn’t push me away. I stepped up to the priest and yanked the staff from his hands.

The priest stared at me, so shocked he didn’t even fight me for his staff.

“But . . . ,” he blubbered. “But I am the vessel for His holy light. . . .”

I snapped the staff over my knee and dropped the pieces to the ground. “You trespass onto Safraella’s grounds. Your god has no power over me. Leave before you die.”

The priest swallowed, his eyes wild and white, then he turned and fled swiftly down the hall.

“You could have killed him,” Marcello said.

“He is a priest of his own god, worshipping in his own way. Maybe I’m more favored than him and maybe not, but if he flees, perhaps he will warn other priests to stay away from Lovero. We belong to Safraella alone.”

Three more Da Vias entered the hall. Had this not been a life-or-death situation, I would have rolled my eyes. They seemed to keep popping up.

The Da Vias charged and we took defensive stances. Three on three was manageable, especially with our skills. Still, the Da Vias were not easy. These three put the first ones to shame. They were older, well established in their abilities.

I darted left, dodging the daggers of my assailant. She was a lot taller than me, and I could practically hear her glee as she kept me on the defensive, pushing me against the wall.

To the right Les’s assailant scored him across the back. But he carried the bag with the firebomb and extra materials, which shredded, protecting him. Two jars of acid fell out of his bag and thumped onto the thick carpet.

My attacker thrust at me. I used my lack of height to my advantage and dropped to the ground. I stabbed my stiletto into the meat of her thigh, then yanked it out. She gasped and her leg sprayed blood. I’d aimed for her artery and hit true.

She stumbled backward, pressing against her leg, then crumpled to the ground.

I snatched up a jar of acid. My uncle’s assailant had pushed him against the wall, and I threw the jar as hard as I could.

It struck the Da Via in the back and shattered, the acid spraying over him and the carpet below. It hissed, eating into his leathers. He began to scream, sharp, panicked cries as he tried to rip off his leathers.

Marcello stabbed him in the throat, and his cries faded into wet burbles and moans.

Les finished off his assailant with a slash from his cutter, and we paused as Marcello caught his breath.

Les stared down at the dead Da Via with the acid-pocked leathers, which were smoking noiselessly. He slipped off his mangled pack. “Someday we should make some acid bombs.”

I couldn’t disagree with that suggestion.

We headed down the hall quickly. When we finally reached Matteo’s bedroom, we slid inside, closing the door behind us.

Footsteps thundered outside the hall. More Da Vias. We were out of time.

“What are we doing?” Marcello coughed loudly.

I rushed to the nursery door, just off the bedroom. “Retrieving the rest of our family.”

Marcello looked down at Matteo, dead on the ground. “Who is this? He has the appearance of a Saldana.”

I opened the nursery door. “He’s my brother.”

“You killed your brother?”

“No,” Les answered. “I did.”

The nursery was just as dark as I’d left it. Emile lay on his bed, blinking with sleepy eyes, knife in hand.

I scurried over to him. “Time to go.”

“Who is that?” Marcello asked.

“Emile Saldana,” Les said. “Rafeo’s son.”

I pushed Emile toward Marcello and Les. Then I strode to the crib where Allegra slept. I gathered her into my arms, taking a blanket as well.

“Lea, what are you doing?” Les asked.

“We’re taking her.”

“Why?”

“Because she has Saldana blood in her too. She’s family.”

I handed her to Les, who held her still as she woke and began to fidget. I twisted the blanket around my leathers, tying it in the front as I’d seen Silva, our nursemaid, do when Emile was younger. I took Allegra from Les, and she cried until I tucked her into the blanket sling across my chest.

“You’re going to fight in that?” Marcello pointed at me. “With an infant strapped across your chest?”

“If I have to.” I grabbed Emile’s hand in my left, leaving my right hand free for my stiletto. “Let’s go.”

In Matteo’s bedroom, Les opened the door and peeked into the hallway. He opened it fully and gestured for us to follow him.

The hallway was deserted. I said a silent blessing of thanks to Safraella. Les scooped Emile up as we hurried down the hall, watching for more Da Vias.

One more corner. Then it was straight across the great room to the door and freedom.

We rushed into the great room and stopped.

In front of us stood more than twenty Da Vias, armed and waiting for us. In the center stood a women in her sixties.

Beside her stood Val.



I tucked Emile behind the three of us. The Da Vias blocked the exit from the house. We’d have to get through them to escape, but it didn’t matter how good a clipper Marcello was, or how much divine energy coursed through Les and me, we couldn’t handle so many Da Vias. Time for my backup plan.