Nightborn

“Simone,” she heard Korvel call. “Run.”

She looked over at the copper net and the bleeding fingers tearing at it. “I’m sorry I never told you, Korvel.”

The first charged at her from behind as two flanking her ran a cross pattern. As soldiers, they had been trained to fight upright, falling prone only to take cover or to change position, and expected the enemy to do the same. Simone dropped, seizing the blades and diving between the legs of her first attacker, cutting his hamstrings. She rolled over in time to parry the man on her left as he struck down, grabbing his shoulder and using his momentum to throw him into the third soldier, who collapsed in a tangle with him.

Back on her feet, she moved to the scaffolding, using a running jump to pull herself up to the first level and turning to drive her boot into the face of the guildsman who pursued her; she leaped over the one who followed him and swept her arm back, slamming her elbow into the base of his skull.

She regarded the five who were left, and how they rearranged themselves. These were the watchful ones, the martial artists with their black belts and their clever techniques. They would be strong, practiced, and deceptive, but they had been trained to read the body of the enemy to anticipate his or her actions.

Simone remained still, holding her arms to shield her upper body while she shifted her eyes from one chest to another. Two of the men danced back and forth as they approached, feinting strikes at her head before they lashed out with their feet at her legs. She fell before they could touch her, jerking the legs they stood on out from beneath them.

Both fell back, one striking the back of his head and going still, the other managing to partially break his fall with an arm. The snap of his ulna sounded like a brittle branch as Simone wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him up, heaving his body toward two more guildsmen.

That left one standing only a few feet from her, and he stepped forward, keeping his eyes on her face as he bobbed in a shallow bow. He raised his arms, his hands cupped, his legs slightly bent at the knees, prepared for any move she intended to make.

Except this one, Simone thought, raising the .22 she had taken from one of the soldiers and shooting the last guildsmen in the knee.

Handlers rushed in to help up the wounded and drag away the unconscious as Lechance clapped his hands together, once, twice, three times.

“Your father would be proud, Simone, although I am surprised you were trained to handle a gun,” the guild master said. “As I remember, he was all about the blade.”

“The only thing my father cared about was the kill.” Simone bent, reaching under the shelving unit to retrieve the rifle the unconscious guard had dropped.

He tilted his head. “A pity he didn’t live long enough to see this. Before you ask, I knew that he died ten years ago. I provided the documents he needed for his steward to assume his identity, and swore never to tell anyone of his death or how he had concealed it. As you see, I kept my word.”

“Thank you.” She chambered the next round with a snap of her wrist, aiming for Lechance’s heart. “Release him.”

The guild master nodded to his guards, who grabbed the pulley ropes and raised the copper net. Korvel staggered to his feet.

“Captain,” Simone said, not taking her eyes from Lechance. “Please go. I will join you outside in a few moments.”

“Not without you.”

As he walked over to her, her mouth tightened. Their chances of getting out of here alive were dwindling by the second, but she had to know. To Lechance, she said, “You gave Pájaro sanctuary when he ran away. You helped him fake his death as well.” When Lechance inclined his head, she asked, “Why?”

He folded his hands. “I couldn’t resist the boy’s offer. He gave ten years of service in exchange for my protection and instruction. He might have failed to meet your father’s impossible standards, but by the time he had finished his service to me, he had over four hundred clean kills. Almost twice as many as my next-best man.”

She almost pulled the trigger. “You know where he is now. Tell me.”

Lechance smiled. “I will do even better. I will take you to him. Pájaro wants both of you. Alive.”

An air rifle fired, and Korvel lunged in front of her. He turned, still protecting her with his body, and she looked down to see the dart sticking from his chest. He sagged, and as she grabbed him she felt a sharp pain in her neck.

Korvel remained on his feet, but he was swaying like a tree in a high wind. As the guild master came to them, he turned his head. “Why did you make her fight?”

“It’s simple, vampire,” Lechance said. “I promised her father that I would.”

Chapter 14

R

ellen Lechance watched his men struggle to lift the vampire’s heavy body. “You know, with a blood sample and a few days, I could convince the Americans to double their offer.” “Yes, and if he escapes them, he will know precisely where to find you.” Pájaro eyed the wounded still littering the floor of the warehouse. “Why didn’t you shoot him as soon as he arrived?”

“There was no warning.” The guild master gestured overhead. “He jumped through the skylight.”

“I warned you that they were clever, Rellen.” Pájaro used his first name with a certain relish before he rubbed the end of his nose and sniffed. “You should take more precautions with your security, before you end up being loaded into a trunk yourself.”

“Good advice.” The guild master made brief eye contact with his bodyguard, who shifted his position and drew a pistol. “When can I expect payment for my services?”

“Don’t be greedy. I’ll contact you when the old man is dead.” Pájaro strode off.

The guild master made a subtle hand signal, and three men scattered in different directions. His bodyguard followed him into his office, and stood watching through the window as Lechance sat down and placed a call to Rome.

“He has them,” he told the man on the other end of the line. He described the events of the night before and said, “My men will continue surveillance until yours arrive.”

“Does he have the scroll?”

“Oh, yes,” Lechance said. “And the Spaniard is already showing the first signs.”

“Keep me informed.”

Lechance ended the call and sat back to brood. In all the years he had known Simone Derien and her father, he had always wondered whether the legends were true. From what he had observed over his long and violent lifetime, women were not fashioned for fighting. While they could be vicious, particularly when defending their young, they lacked the killing instinct.

Simone had cut through his men without hesitation or the slightest degree of difficulty; seeing her fight had been alternately thrilling and dismaying. He had witnessed power and precision beyond his comprehension; he knew he would never have it at his command. In fact, if events played out as the men in Rome had orchestrated, Simone Derien would not live to fight again.

Lechance saw his bodyguard’s back muscles tense. “What is it?”

“Two intruders. A man and a woman.” The bodyguard stiffened and drew his pistol. “They are not human.”

“Put that away.” The guild master walked out into the warehouse, where a tall, white-haired female and her handsome companion were making short work of his men. “Arrête.” Once the few remaining men who were still mobile hobbled back, Lechance regarded the couple. “Vous désirez? Can I help you?”

“Personally I’d like a nap,” the woman said in American-accented English as she stepped over a limp body. “These late nights totally wreck me. So be a nice guy and tell us where you have them stashed.”

“You have come to the wrong address, mademoiselle.” Lechance took in a sharp breath as she moved in a blur to stand in front of him. “There is no one stashed anywhere here.”

“I can smell big fat lies, you moron.” She whipped out her arm, sending his bodyguard flying. “Where did you take them?”

“I did not take anyone,” Lechance said, grimacing slightly as the blond man circled around to stand behind him. He felt cool breath on his neck, and something crawling up his legs under his trousers. When he glanced down he saw dozens of wasps that commonly nested in the rafters alighting on his shoes, and felt sweat break out all over his body.

“Do you know how many times a wasp can sting you before it uses up all of its venom?” the man murmured as Lechance felt something crawl inside his briefs. “Would you care to find out? Perhaps with your testicles.”

“My client collected the vampire and the nun,” he said. “He took them south, toward the docks. That is all I know.”

“Who is your client, and why did he want them?” the man asked.

Lechance held perfectly still. “I was hired to capture them, monsieur. My client did not give me his name or explain his reasons to me.”

“I always thought guys would do anything to protect the package.” The woman looked past him. “Guess I was wrong, baby.”

“Wait.” A drop of sweat ran down his nose to hang from the tip of it. “His name is Pájaro. He’s worked for me as an assassin for hire.” He gave them an accurate description of his former pupil. “He took the man so he could translate an old scroll. That is all he said about him; I swear it.”

“Yeah?” The woman leaned close. “Then why did he take the nun, too?”

Lechance closed his eye as a wasp crawled across the lid. “She is his sister.”

Korvel opened his eyes to see Simone carrying a light through a darkened room. She had on a long gown made of plain muslin, and her feet were bare. She placed the candle in a window and sat beside it, looking out at the darkness.

When he was able to speak, his voice came out in a harsh rasp. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know, Captain.” She pressed her hand to the window. “I think we’re somewhere out there.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">