Page 13 of A Blade of Blood and Shadow (The Ravaged Kingdom #1)

Chapter

Eight

F rustration and hopelessness gnawed at my insides as I shoved my way back through the mass of silks, past the female in the top hat standing at the entrance, and out into the sticky heat.

Far from the garish lights of the Quarter, stars winked brightly overhead. The vast expanse of sky above felt disorienting after the claustrophobia of the big top, and for a moment, I just stood there, letting the wind caress my face.

Why had I thought the Ringmaster would help?

He was fae. Even if he had some piece of information about the stone, he was unlikely to share it with a hunter.

Coming here had been a waste of time, and it had only heightened my paranoia.

The Ringmaster knew I was one of Silas’s, and now he knew I was hunting for the stone.

I should never have listened to Adelaide.

The vampire bars and clubs were in full swing as I drove along the backstreets of the Quarter. I parked Imogen’s car in the alley and killed the engine, keeping my head on a swivel as I let myself into her apartment building .

A familiar scent hit me as I walked in the door, but with the overpowering stench of old cigarette smoke clinging to the stained walls and filthy tile, it was impossible to place.

Still fighting the edgy feeling I’d gotten in the Ringmaster’s presence, I climbed the steep set of stairs and froze just outside of Imogen’s apartment. The door stood slightly ajar — not enough for a casual passerby to notice, but just enough that it hadn’t latched.

My heart did a painful somersault, and my mouth went dry. It was nearly midnight. Imogen should have been asleep. I hadn’t run into her in the lobby, so she hadn’t gone down to get her mail. And there was no way she’d leave the building with her front door unlocked. She was too smart for that.

Reaching out with my senses, I tried to feel her. Her magic was familiar to me, and I could have sensed her in a crowd. But I felt nothing on the other side of that door — not her magic, nor the magic of a stranger.

Dread squeezed my insides. If I couldn’t sense her, that meant . . .

I snapped my mind closed against that thought before it could take hold. I would not let myself consider that possibility. Imogen had to be all right.

Careful not to make a sound, I palmed a dagger and kicked the door open. It crashed into the wall behind it and bounced off with a thunk , sending the yellowish light from the hallway pouring into the dark apartment.

It was empty. At least it looked empty.

But then I flipped on the light switch nearest the door, and all the blood pooled in my feet.

Imogen’s apartment bore all the telltale signs of a struggle. A spindly wooden chair had been upended, the little table knocked askew. One of our chipped teacups lay in shards on the kitchen floor, and several of Imogen’s plants had been knocked over in the living room.

A low hiss drew my attention to a pair of yellow eyes. They gleamed at me from beside the radiator, framed by ears that were flattened against a feline head.

Goose.

I tried to breathe, but my lungs felt as though they were full of broken glass.

Someone had taken Imogen.

Panic rose within me, crowding out all logic, but I shoved it down and forced myself to focus. Closing my eyes, I took three shaky breaths and opened my senses. Beneath the familiar fragrance of Imogen’s apartment, I detected that same scent I’d caught in the lobby.

It was stronger in here — stronger because Imogen had put up a fight, and whoever had grabbed her had struggled. Perspired.

The image of a black bomber jacket formed in my mind, and my stomach clenched.

Vince.

Vince had been in Imogen’s apartment. He’d come here and taken my friend. Either he’d come here looking for me, or he’d known I was gone and had come to send a message.

Bile burned the back of my throat. One way or another, Silas knew that I’d betrayed him, and this was his way of getting back at me.

Terror clawed at my insides, threatening to overwhelm me. I knew the sort of things Silas and his hunters were capable of. One more dead witch was nothing to them.

But there was no blood — no body — which meant she was still alive. Vince wouldn’t have come here to kill Imogen and then cleaned up his mess. He would have left her body here for me to find.

Silas knew I’d been staying here — just like he knew I’d come looking for Imogen. This was his way of luring me back, and I didn’t care.

Resheathing my dagger, I headed for the couch and the two short swords I’d stashed beneath the cushions. Strapping them to my back, I flew out of the apartment and took the stairs two at a time.

I burst through the front door onto the sidewalk, my blood thrashing with terror and fury. The relentless heat had finally broken, and for once it was cooler outside than it was in the stuffy apartment.

As I rounded the corner, heading for the car, a hand clamped down over my mouth. It was large and sweaty and smelled like dirt, and when an arm the size of a small tree snaked around my waist, panic crowded out every other thought.

My back slammed into a rock-hard chest, and a sour stench filled my nostrils. I groped automatically for my dagger, but my arms were pinned to my sides. Even with my hunter strength, I couldn’t break his hold.

I squirmed and bucked, but the male was immovable — his arm like a vise as he hauled me into the shadows. I drove my heel back to connect with his shin, but my attacker merely grunted.

Who was he? More importantly, what was he?

The male’s scent wasn’t one that I recognized, so he couldn’t be one of Silas’s hunters. He was way too strong to be a mortal, and he didn’t smell like a vampire.

Dread seized me as he dragged me farther down the alley. Blinking tears from my eyes, I looked around and spied two more hulking figures — one with reddish skin and small black horns, the other a male with gray-green skin, bulging yellow eyes, and piercings in the slits he had instead of nostrils.

Shit.

My stomach heaved as my attacker bent closer, bringing his mouth to my ear. “Silas thinks he can cheat me? Maybe he’ll reconsider now that I have his little bitch.”

I gagged on the male’s sour breath, and my dread amplified.

This was about Silas. But who —

Understanding hit me like a club to the head. Gorm . The half-human, half-ogre buyer I was supposed to have delivered the vampire blood to had followed me back to Imogen’s. He’d come for retribution.

I’d never met Gorm, but I knew he dealt in violence and black-market goods. Blood. Venom. Enslaved witches. I’d heard he even trafficked in shifters.

Vince and Alessio had always made me wait in the car when they made drops at Gorm’s — not for my safety, I was sure, but to keep me from ruining a deal by drawing my weapons.

And yet Silas had sent me to deliver this last shipment alone. Why? To see if I could hold my own against these three? The way the pierced one was looking at me, I had a feeling I would not have been treated much better if I’d arrived with their blood on time.

“What should we do with her?” Gorm’s low voice rumbled up my spine, turning my insides to liquid. “She must be special to Silas if he’s kept her so . . . protected.”

If the situation hadn’t been so dire, I might have laughed out loud .

Protected. Special . The half-ogre must only have had half a brain if he thought I was special to Silas. If Silas felt anything for me, it was ownership. But I didn’t belong to him anymore.

“I’ve never had a huntress,” Gorm mused, that putrid breath wafting into my mouth. “I wonder if they scream the same as human females . . .”

That vise of terror tightened around my chest as Gorm’s beefy arm drifted higher. The change in position left my forearm free, and my heart pounded in my throat. My fingertips brushed the hilt of my dagger. If I could just reach it . . .

“I wonder what Silas will do when I dump your body on his lawn. Do you think that will get his attention?”

I didn’t allow myself to latch onto the hideous words spewing from the half-ogre’s mouth. Instead, I focused everything I had on reaching the dagger at my thigh.

One chance. I couldn’t waste it, or I’d find myself all alone in this alleyway — outnumbered and unarmed.

I waited another heartbeat. Then two. Gorm’s huge hand slid down to cup my breast, and I felt the lecherous eyes of his companions on me as he squeezed — hard.

I didn’t bother to hide my fear and disgust. I let them see what they wanted to see as my fingers closed around my dagger.

In one violent motion, I tore the knife from its sheath and sank it into Gorm’s meaty thigh. A guttural roar ripped from his throat, but I quickly withdrew the blade and plunged it in again.

He reeled back in pain, releasing his grip, and my left hand found another dagger.

Before the others could react, I wheeled around to face Gorm and thrust my bloodied dagger into the patch of flesh between his neck and shoulder. The other I shoved between his ribs, twisting until his howl of agony echoed off the surrounding buildings.

The half-ogre was a sight to behold –– nearly twice as wide as a normal man with forearms the size of my thighs. Greenish skin stretched over a filthy bald head and a face that was twisted in pain.

For an instant, I allowed myself to bask in his anguish as Gorm’s dirt-colored eyes went hazy. Muddy brown blood seeped from his wounds, and I heard the others advance.

Tugging my daggers free in a spray of blood, I pivoted to face them. The red-skinned one — half-troll, I guessed — wielded a battle axe. The pierced reptilian male held a wicked-looking curved blade in each webbed hand.

Sheathing the daggers, I drew my short swords and shifted to keep the alley wall at my back. The battle axe looked unwieldy, but the curved blades could pose a challenge.

As I’d expected, the half-troll advanced, swinging the axe wildly. I slipped to the side and heard the vicious clang of metal on brick as the blade struck the wall behind me.