Page 3 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)
E mmery couldn’t breathe. The world became too small, shrinking to this one catastrophic moment and the brick alley walls narrowed as she frantically searched for an escape.
With Fallon behind her, straight through was her only option and it could lead to a dead end.
The guard was too large to fight off unless she could catch him by surprise, but his eyes already tracked her every move.
She would have to be smarter and faster. Might as well start with the former.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, feigning confusion as she watched his feet. Her hand rested on her dagger’s jewelled handle as she took a cautious step backward. “You’ve made a mistake.”
“Don’t play innocent. It won’t work, little demon.”
A cold sweat slickened her neck. Oh gods ... he knew .
Emmery darted toward the alley mouth, but his hand circled her wrist, reeling her back toward him. Sharp pain lanced up her arm as her feet skidded on the uneven ground.
Dagger . She needed her dagger.
Emmery tugged it free from its sheath, the blade glinting in the moonlight as she swiped wildly with fear claimed limbs. She could practically hear Fionn’s snarky voice in her head: Pointy end out, Em .
Fallon batted her hand away and her grip faltered. The dagger flew from her grasp, swallowed by the shadows.
No . That was her only weapon—
The guard’s arm snaked her waist and Emmery thrashed with every stubborn muscle in her body. Her hood slid off and his hot breath tickled the hairs stuck to her clammy forehead.
“ Let me go ,” she pleaded, her voice cracking.
A sinister smile played on his lips, her bones protesting as his grip tightened. Her heart raced, magic pulsed in her veins, and her fingertips sparked.
This couldn’t be happening. Everything had fallen apart so quickly, and her mind became a jumbled mess, her body screaming at her to do something. To escape or burn him to a crisp—
As if seeing her thoughts, Fallon clasped both her wrists in one hand and slammed her against the alley wall, knocking the air from her lungs.
“You know the crest on that bag of coins you stole?” he bit out. “It belongs to me. Funny, I don’t remember you joining the family.”
She met his glowering stare but with her hands pinned, her magic was rendered useless, and Death stared at her through the guard’s eyes.
“A thief and a Damned One. It’s my lucky day,” Fallon continued.
“We were already searching for you after your little show in Bagsdead. And not even a week later, my brother mentioned a silver-haired woman matching your exact description had stolen his coin pouch. It was too easy to track you down after that.”
Emmery gritted her teeth. That day in the market, she’d lowered her guard for a fraction of a moment.
That’s all it took to lose control and expose her magic in a mess of sparks.
The beggar woman’s rancid yellowing shawl, vacant black eyes, and charred, weeping face still haunted Emmery when she closed her eyes.
The guard gave her an insanity-soaked smile and with brute force ripped the collar of her dress, exposing her upper chest. Victory shone in his eyes as he surveyed her scars.
“The King has been anxious to meet you,” he drawled.
That glint in his eyes was ravenous . Surely there was a hefty reward for her capture.
He practically purred, “It’s been some time since we caught a Damned One. ”
His words triggered a memory: a young man chained to a flaming pyre; his mouth rounded in a silent scream.
His scars, shamefully displayed, signified another demon purged from this earth.
It had been over two decades, but she recalled it as if it were yesterday.
The stench of burnt hair, skin, bone, tendons . ..
Emmery’s stomach churned, her mind racing, spinning, and heart battering her ribcage.
If that was the King’s choice, that would soon be her. Maybe he would resort to drowning or get creative and chop her slowly into pieces. Years had passed since their last public execution, so maybe he would opt for a more theatrical death to remind the people how truly vile her kind were.
Her lip curled back over her teeth. “Go fuck yourself.”
“I was thinking”—Fallon’s gaze meandered her body—“you would do me the pleasure.”
Bile crawled up Emmery’s throat. “I’d rather fuck a cactus.”
“My intention was to bring you straight to King Silas, but now that we’ve been so nicely acquainted”—the guard’s chuckle skittered over her skin—“it would be a waste to send a pretty thing like you to your death without first having a taste. After all, you owe me for that drink.”
He released her waist and held her against the wall with his hips. Emmery’s ribs squeezed and each breath slivered.
Grasping her chin like he was inspecting livestock for purchase, he added, “Shame about your face. Though I won’t be looking at it much.”
“ I’ll kill you ,” she rasped, her voice a deadly threat as she wrenched her face from his hold. The unwelcome hands, crushing body weight, and hips pinning hers stirred memories and that familiar crippling panic resurfaced.
But she’d promised herself, never again. Not while her heart still beat.
Ripping her leg free, she threw her knee into his groin, but he easily blocked it with his thigh. Fallon grabbed her by the neck and squeezed, pain cutting into her windpipe and a whimper slipped free.
A man cleared his throat, his voice stemming from the shadows. “I hate when people can’t keep their hands to themselves. Don't you?”
They both startled.
The words were smooth, unhurried, like the speaker had all the time in the world, meanwhile Emmery gasped around Fallon’s hold as the seconds raced by. She tried to turn her head but couldn’t see who spoke, the edges of her vision blurring.
“ Buzz off, ” Fallon snapped. “Unless you aren’t fond of your head attached to your body.”
“I don’t think the lady likes that, sir,” the man drawled. “If you would release her, we can all walk away with our heads. If not, other arrangements will need to be made.”
Fallon glowered into the darkness. “You dare threaten a man of King Silas’s guard?”
A rumbling chuckle filled the air. “With pleasure.”
Whoever this was had a death wish if they dared intercept a guard and whatever foolishness occupied them. Unfortunately, tonight she was the foolishness. But the distraction eased his grip on her throat and sweet air trickled in.
Fallon scoffed. “Since I’m preoccupied, if you leave now, we won’t have any trouble.”
“You misunderstand.” Dark delight simmered in the stranger’s words. “I adore trouble.”
As the guard stiffened, Emmery took advantage and spat in his eye. Fallon reared back with a sound of disgust and as her feet hit the ground, Emmery doubled over, her throat raw, lungs burning, and vision hazy. She needed to run but her body convulsed with the unnegotiable need for air.
“You bitch !” Fallon roared.
Stumbling a step, she managed to stand, but his broad hand slapped across her cheek and Emmery’s head snapped to the side. Stars danced across her vision and her world tilted as white-hot pain radiated through her skull.
Gods help her, that hurt .
The guard searched the alley for the stranger but only the shadows answered as Emmery grasped for clarity around the searing pain. Rage burned through her veins, hot and untethered.
She was going to roast this bastard. With her dagger gone, she had no choice and besides, Fallon already knew.
She had nothing left to lose.
Her magic drummed with each pump of her heart and like a feral beast, she lunged, teeth bared, as she conjured her sparks into his face.
The reek of sizzled flesh saturated the air as her hand sank into the soft skin of his cheek.
The guard howled and shoved her with enough force Emmery tipped backward and crumpled to the ground.
A leather gloved hand tapped the guard’s shoulder and as Fallon turned, a fist collided with his face. His teeth audibly rattled in his skull, and he fell unconscious before he slumped to the ground, blood leaking from his freshly broken nose.
Emmery’s eyes rounded in horror.
“Such dishonourable behaviour from King Silas’s guard,” the man tutted.
He propped Fallon’s towering frame against the wall like it weighed no more than a sack of grain.
The moon's glow reflected off the man’s leather armour with the worn stitching, his hood still drawn.
The wraith-man from the tavern grimaced at the guard’s uniform. “And poor fashion choice.”
Emmery scrambled on her hands and knees, her skin scraping the rough stone as she searched for her dagger in the dark. She strung together a slew of curses as she came up empty.
“Wow,” the man said, followed by a sharp whistle. “I’ve never heard such profanity.”
“I wouldn’t be cursing like that if there wasn’t an unconscious guard beside me!
” The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she cleared her throat, softening her voice.
She didn't know who she was dealing with despite the fact he had saved her.
“While I appreciate your assistance, uhm”—she studied his ghost-like menacing form—“kind sir , I had the situation handled.”
Emmery frantically searched for her dagger. Where in the world was it? Really, she would settle for anything as a weapon. A large rock, a branch, a handful of dust—
“You had it handled? Right, my mistake. It should have been obvious by the way he had you helplessly pinned against the wall that you had him right where you wanted him.”
Emmery glared up at the man, his face still hidden under his hood. The realization sank in that the longer he stood there, the less likely he planned to turn her in. But maybe he wasn’t looking for a bounty and sought some other reward for saving her. Her skin crawled at the thought.