Cold Burn of Magic(12)

But then Devon looked at me.

His green eyes locked with my blue ones, and my soulsight kicked in, letting me feel his emotions—red-hot anger, soul-crushing guilt, stomach-churning fear. Not the usual feelings I would have expected in this situation. The guilt intrigued me. So did the fear, especially since it was for his friends instead of himself. Devon didn’t care what happened to him. He only wanted to get free so he could help Felix and Ashley.

Devon kept staring at me. He tried to croak out some word, but the guy choking him didn’t give him the chance.

“Quiet!” he hissed, shaking Devon and tightening his grip on his throat.

Devon’s gaze met mine again, even though he had to be seconds away from blacking out. I saw the silent, desperate plea in his eyes—and I felt his anger, guilt, and fear knife me right in the heart.

Damn it.

I pulled a throwing star from my belt and sent it flying. The weapon zipped across the pawnshop and sank into the guy’s right shoulder, making him howl with pain, let go of Devon, and, most important, drop his sword.

I grabbed another star from my belt and raced down the aisle, heading straight at the wounded man. He was so focused on the weapon sticking out of his shoulder that he never even looked up, so I sliced the edges of the second star across his stomach to get his attention. He threw back his head, bellowing even louder with pain and anger, but I was already pulling out the first star from his shoulder and moving forward for another strike.

Mortal, magick, or monster, there are certain areas that are particularly sensitive on anyone—eyes, throat, knees, groin. So that’s what I went for. I slammed my sneaker into the guy’s knee, putting all of my weight and strength behind the blow. Then, when he staggered forward, I rammed my knee into his groin. He was really screaming then.

The guy toppled to the floor, but I wasn’t done yet. I grabbed his sword from where it had fallen. Then I brought the weapon up, around, and down—straight into his heart.

He arched once and then went completely slack—dead.

I stopped long enough to hook my throwing stars back onto my belt and glance at Devon, who had managed to pull himself up onto his hands and knees.

“Are you okay?”

He gasped for air, so I took that as a yes.

By this point, Ashley, the bodyguard, had killed one of the guys and was fighting another, along with the mystery man. I tightened my grip on the dead guy’s sword and stepped forward to wade into the fight.

At least, I tried to.

The fourth and final guy, who’d been hanging back so far, stepped into the aisle in front of me. The overhead lights made his black, stubbly hair stand out like needles poking out of his skull. I recognized him—the leader of the three guards that had chased me across the rooftops last night. What was he doing here?

“Well, well, well,” he rumbled, grinning and showing me his crooked teeth. “If it isn’t the one who got away.”

“I thought you didn’t like carving up little girls.”

He shrugged. “I might not like it, but it doesn’t bother me, either. Especially not when I’m getting paid this much for it. You’re not going to be so lucky today.”

I twirled the sword in my hand. “We’ll see.”

He let out a loud bellow, raised his sword, and charged at me.

We fought through the pawnshop aisles, knocking over books, dashing bottles off counters, overturning bins of movie posters, and making a mess. The guy didn’t have all that much skill with a sword, and I was easily able to defend against his attacks. But he had a moderate Talent for strength, and each one of his blows was so sharp and hard that it threatened to jar my weapon out of my hand. I was going to have to change tactics before my own strength gave out and he managed to slap the sword away from me.

Meanwhile, Ashley had killed the second guy and was battling the mystery man, who had drawn his own sword to counter her quick, relentless attacks. Devon managed to stagger back to his feet, although he was still trying to suck down air through his severely bruised throat. Felix remained sprawled on the floor in the front of the shop, still unconscious.

Everything was going more or less okay—until the mystery man broke through Ashley’s defenses and stabbed her in the stomach.

She screamed, and blood arced out from the wound—dark, red, arterial blood. Ashley collapsed to the floor, although she managed to hold on to her sword. The mystery man approached her and she lashed out with the weapon, trying to catch him across the legs. However, he sidestepped her clumsy blow and headed toward Devon, who raised his fists, even as he wobbled on his feet.

I couldn’t peer directly into the mystery man’s eyes, but his cruel, satisfied smile told me all I needed to know about his intentions. But the fourth and final guy was still in front of me, so I wasn’t going to be able to protect Devon. Not unless I did something drastic.

Not unless I used my other Talent.

I cursed myself for getting involved in the fight, even though there was nothing I could do now but see things through to the end. I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t let Devon die. Maybe because I knew that the world needed more people like him, more strong, silent types who felt things far more deeply than they ever let on. Maybe because he was the kind of thoughtful, loyal person that my mom had always been proud to protect. Maybe because he was someone who actually seemed to care about others, especially his friends.