Page 48 of A Touch of Treachery (Section 47 #3)

CHARLOTTE

“D esmond!” I yelled again. “Wake up!”

The guard tightened his viselike grip on my arm and shoved his gun into my side. “Shut up!” he growled. “Or I’ll ignore the boss’s orders and shoot you in the gut!”

Truth , my synesthesia whispered, as if I needed the magical confirmation that the man would make good on his threat. I bit my tongue and swallowed my screams.

Henrika made a circular motion with her index finger, and two guards stepped forward and took hold of Desmond.

The two men must have been enduros with extra strength, because they maneuvered the cleaner around like he was as light as feather.

The first guard removed all of Desmond’s weapons, including his silver pocket watch, and tossed them aside.

Then the second man bent down and hefted the unconscious cleaner over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

In the distance, more gunshots sounded, louder and closer than before.

“Get him into the woods!” Henrika hissed. “Now!”

The second guard hefted Desmond a little higher onto his shoulders and vanished into the woods. The first guard followed him, and Henrika also headed in that direction. Bryce trailed after her, although he kept his gun trained on the three paramortals still standing in the clearing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Steig demanded. “Tell your men to lower their weapons!”

Henrika shook her head. “You still don’t get it, do you, Steig?

You were never here to bid on my formula.

You and the others were just bait so I could lure Desmond and Charlotte to the resort.

Spies like them will never pass up a chance to track down villains like you.

And now? You’re just a distraction, something for the Section agents to focus on and chase after, so I can escape. ”

The assassin’s hands clenched into fists, and his handsome features twisted into something dark and ugly. “You duplicitous bitch! I’ll kill you for this!”

Henrika backed toward the trees, with Bryce still by her side. “You’ll be far too busy running from Section 47 to worry about me.”

Fury stained Steig’s face a mottled red. Oriana and Niles were just as pissed, and they also glared at Henrika.

“Anyone who tries to follow us will get shot. Let’s go!” Henrika called out. “Move! Move! Move!”

The other guards dropped their guns and darted into the woods. Henrika smirked at me again, then she too vanished, with Bryce still right beside her.

The guard who’d been hanging on to my arm shoved me away. I stumbled back a few steps. He snapped up his gun, ready to fire if I moved toward him. I didn’t care about the guard, so I held my hands up, wondering how I could get past him and get to Desmond—

“Gurp!” The guard let out a loud, strangled noise.

Steig’s face appeared over the guard’s shoulder, and he yanked his hunting knife out of the man’s back, then shoved it right back in again. Blood bubbled up out of the guard’s lips, and he let out another strangled sound, as if asking for mercy.

But Steig wasn’t in the mercy business. The assassin yanked the knife out of the guard’s body, then wrenched the other man’s head back and cut his throat.

Blood sprayed everywhere, looking like a ruby fountain gushing down onto the snow.

The guard thrashed around, but he was already more dead than alive, and Steig casually tossed him aside like a piece of trash.

The assassin’s pale blue eyes fixed on me, and his lips drew back into a feral snarl. “Henrika might have escaped, but you won’t be so lucky, spy bitch,” he hissed.

Steig jumped over the guard’s body and lunged at me. His hand clamped onto my shoulder, and his knife headed straight toward my throat—

Tink.

The tip of the blade cut through my thick scarf, but instead of stabbing into my body, it skittered away.

Steig growled and tried again and again.

Tink. Tink.

“What the fuck?” he growled.

He ripped the scarf off my neck, revealing the Grunglass Necklace. I had never been so glad to be wearing it as right now, as it was the only reason I was still alive.

Steig growled and raised his knife again, but I shoved him back and spun away. My gaze snapped left and right. All the weapons the guards had taken from Desmond and me were still lying in the snow, but I couldn’t reach any of them.

Desperate, I bent down and yanked the two pom-poms off the side of my right boot.

I dug my fingers through one fluffy piece of fabric until I found the hard plastic knot in the center.

I hit the embedded button, arming the small hidden explosive.

Then I whirled around and tossed it at Steig, who stopped in his tracks.

I was actually pretty good with ranged weapons, since my synesthesia usually told me exactly where to aim a gun, throw a knife, or hurl an axe. But the fuzzy pom-pom was no balanced blade, and the fluffy ball hit Steig’s chest, bounced off, and plopped into the snow.

I backed away from him and started counting off the seconds in my mind. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .

Steig bent down, picked up the pom-pom, and waggled it at me. “What were you going to do with this? Tickle me to death?”

I backed up a few more steps. Seven . . . six . . . five . . .

“Quit messing around and kill her, you idiot!” Oriana snapped.

Four . . . three . . . two . . .

Steig ignored her and frowned down at the pom-pom. “Why does it feel like something is hidden inside this—”

Boom!

The pom-pom exploded. A bright burst of flame erupted in Steig’s hand, as though he was a combusto clutching a fireball in his palm. The assassin screamed and screamed, his eyes bulging as he stared down at the mass of burned skin and bloody, stubby fingers that used to be his hand.

Steig screamed again and clutched his mangled hand to his chest. I tried to dart around him, but the assassin was blinded by pain, and he kept staggering back and forth, blocking my path. A frustrated growl tumbled out of my lips.

Crack!

A shot rang out, and a bullet punched into Steig’s back. He staggered forward a few more steps, then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he crumpled to the ground, landing right on top of the guard whose throat he’d cut.

Niles stepped forward, the gun in his hand still pointed at the other paramortal’s body. He must have grabbed the weapon while I’d been blowing up Steig.

“Arrogant idiot,” Niles muttered. “He squealed like a stuck pig.”

I sidled to the left, hoping I could make it to the trees before Niles regrouped, but he leveled his gun at me.

“If you really are a Section spy, then you’ll make an excellent hostage.”

A bitter laugh spewed out of my lips. A few months ago, Miriam Lancaster had taken me hostage in the third-level bullpen at Section headquarters after I’d exposed her as a mole. Desmond had shot Miriam to save me, and the fact that he wasn’t here to help me again was not lost on me.

“Why are you laughing?” Niles asked.

I swallowed the rest of my crazy chuckles. “Because Section 47 doesn’t negotiate with anyone. And you’re not taking me anywhere.”

Niles’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one with the gun.”

I was still clutching the second pom-pom, and I hit the hidden button and tossed the fuzzy ball at Niles just like I had done with Steig. The chemist yelped and swatted it away with his free hand. The second pom-pom landed on the ground.

Boom!

The pom-pom exploded, sending up a large spray of snow and dirt.

Niles cursed, turned in my direction, and aimed his gun at my chest. I surged forward, lowered my shoulder, and rammed into him, sending us both tumbling to the ground.

The gun flew out of Niles’s hand and flipped end over end through the snow. I got up onto my hands and knees and scrambled after it. The instant my fingers closed around the weapon, I snapped it up and spun around.

Niles was towering over me, a long, thick tree branch clutched in his hand. He yelled and drew the branch back like a baseball bat.

I pulled the trigger.

Crack!

My aim wasn’t the best, given my low, awkward position, but I hit him in the shoulder. Niles yelped, and the tree branch slipped through his fingers and dropped to the ground.

I scrambled to my feet. Niles was clutching his shoulder and staggering in the opposite direction. Oriana had vanished without a trace.

No one was left to stop me, so I clutched the gun a little tighter and sprinted into the woods. I had to save Desmond.

I ran through the woods as fast as I could. My boots slipped on the snow and the loose rocks and fallen tree branches underneath, but I powered through the awkward slides, maintained my balance, and kept going.

Henrika and her men had left a trail of footprints, which made them easy to follow.

I sprinted forward, my breath steaming out in thick clouds of frost and a dagger of pain slowly knifing its way deeper and deeper into my side.

Right now, I would have given anything to be an enduro with enough stamina to run for miles and miles and never tire.

I wasn’t an enduro, but my worry for Desmond drove me onward, and I forced myself to ignore my aches and pains and move faster.

Slowly but surely, the trees thinned out, and the sandy shore appeared in the distance. I quickened my pace yet again, even though my legs quivered like warm gelatin and my lungs burned as though I’d swallowed one of the pom-pom bombs.

A few seconds later, I burst through the tree line and skidded to a stop in the sand.

My head snapped left, then right, and I spotted a long, wide dock that stretched out over the lake like an accusing finger.

Henrika, Bryce, and the guards were already on board a boat at the end of the dock.

So was Desmond, who had been slung down into a seat like a lifeless mannequin.

My heart wrenched, but I sucked down a breath and ran toward the dock.

DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

My synesthesia screamed a warning out of nowhere. Even though I didn’t see anything threatening, my instincts took over, and I veered sharply to the right, away from the dock.

BOOM!

A massive explosion ripped through the air, and the shock wave lifted me off my feet and tossed my body through the air like a leaf caught in a hurricane.

One second, I was racing along the lakeshore. The next, I was face down in the ice-crusted sand, wondering how I had gotten there. The back of my body felt like it had been used as a punching bag, and a dull ringing filled my ears, like someone was pressing a doorbell over and over inside my skull.

I spit out a mouthful of sand, pushed the pain away, and scrambled to my feet. Somehow I’d managed to hang on to the gun, although I staggered back and forth, my balance completely thrown off by the force of the explosion.

White stars exploded in my eyes, but I ruthlessly blinked them away. The buzzing in my ears died down, and my vision slowly sharpened.

Most of the dock was burning, and the red-orange flames licked at the wood like an overeager puppy and spewed out clouds of noxious black smoke at the same time. I staggered to my right a few steps and peered past the destroyed dock.

The boat had pulled away from the dock and was picking up speed.

Henrika shoved her brown hair off her face, lifted her hands to her lips, and blew me a cheeky kiss, while Bryce raised his gun to his forehead and snapped off a mocking salute.

The guard driving the boat revved the engine, and the vessel picked up speed, skimming across the lake.

I stood on the shore, completely helpless, and watched while the boat became a smaller and smaller speck before vanishing altogether. Worry spiked through my heart, pounding in time to my still-ringing ears.

Henrika was gone—and so was Desmond.