Page 29 of Ballad of Nightmares

“Something wrong?” Rolfe asked after him.

“She’ll start working her way through the bottom first. I want everyone on alert for anything strange,” Sam replied. “Don’t tell them why. Just say there is a threat from Firemoor, and we are doing our diligence.”

“Are we in trouble?” Rolfe called up.

Sam paused at the top of the stairs, his night with Ana replaying in his mind, and he met Rolfe’s stare.

“You have no idea.”

Part Two

...He'll meet His Match

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ANA WAS RUNNING.

Blood wept in her broken footprints down the marble hall. Around every corner. Down every bare step. A gunshot ricocheted off the wall to her left, and she flinched, ducking behind the next door. Her heart raced, and yet through it all, she continued to laugh. That chuckle she couldn’t stop, delirious and cackling. It echoed off every wall and gave away her hide, but Ana didn’t care.

The heart of the Firemoor king was still in her clenched fist. His blood still spreading wet over her chest, her gown, and her legs.

Three down.

Two to go.

Another gunshot broke the wall by the door. Ana licked her lips and let her head sag onto her neck as she steadied her breathing. She had five bullets left. Three knives. A bag of gold. And bare feet that would get her as far as she needed to go.

Back to Icemyer to plot her attack on the Iron kingdom.

“She’s hiding here,” she heard someone say outside the door, the sound of their clicking guns and steel-toed boots sounding loud in the air. She shook her head. Amateurs.

Ana knew this castle inside and out. Had plotted it for weeks.

She slipped back into the shadows and counted her steps. Ten paces back was a slip behind a winding staircase. She crouched down, waiting for them to make the first move.

Bullets rained through the door.

Her hands covered her ears, her head. Her body flinched with every blast. On and on, they sprayed. The marble chipped. The wood splintered. Until one of the guards stopped the supposed slaughter, and dust plumed the air.

The silence that followed made Ana’s ears ring. But she’d heard this silence more times than she could count. Had learned to navigate and use it to her advantage.

She pressed her hand to the floor. Wood cracked beneath the boot of a guard. Another crack. She counted them, steadying her breath and clasping her hand around one of her knives. And with one slow exhale, Ana struck.

She rose up and yanked the hot barrel of the gun, ignoring the pain and pulling the first guard forward. He stumbled, trying to reach the trigger, but Ana spun and ripped her claw across his throat before he could fight back. Blood spewed over her. He dropped to the ground.

Ana grabbed the gun just as the second guard spotted her. She rammed the heel into his face, and he faltered over his feet. As he caught his balance, Ana pulled her knife, thrusting it into the man’s face. Back and back, she pushed, until he hit the opposite wall, his head breaking on the stone. More footsteps sounded to her left. She sliced his throat and pulled her pistol, barely aiming, before letting off one round into her assailant to the side.

The bullet struck the guard’s exposed neck. She ran out, the rifle at the ready to strike any others that might be around. One blocked her as she hit the threshold. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her up into the air. The rifle fell. She pushed her pistol back into her thigh holster. Ana kicked, twisted, and squirmed. He cursed her movements and slammed her into the wall. Ana’s back cracked with the thrust, but with her wince, she shook off the pain, and then she maneuvered her legs around his head and began to tighten them.

“Didn’t know I’d be blessed with such foreplay today,” she said as her thighs squeezed and squeezed.

The guard realized what she was doing, his face growing pale, and he hit at her legs. Stumbling, but Ana held on. She held on as he flailed and twirled them. And as he began to truly panic, her thumbs thrust into his eyes. His screech filled the hall. Other guards had stopped to watch. He clawed at her thighs, his begs and pleads and screams making Ana’s insides dance.

His eyes bleeding out, Ana shifted her hands, seeing his face turning blue, and she swiftly put him out of his misery with a twist of his neck. His spine cracked, a glorious shiver ran over her skin, and as he descended to the ground, Ana jumped off and pulled her pistol from her thigh.

The guards that had stood by to watch now surrounded her. Rifles ready. Ana tensed, her eyes darting between the men.

“Pretty, pretty boys make pretty, pretty toys,” she taunted, smiling at each of them. “Who wants to play?”