The Scribe
Page 61“There’s three. Three of them are behind us.”
“I’m leading them away from the humans.”
“Should I—?”
“Stay with me. Keep yourself behind me when we get there.”
“Get where?”
They were speed-walking up the hill until Malachi ducked into a side street. Houses rose on either side, the street dead-ending into a hill covered by pink oleander and trash. Ava tripped over a scattering of cans that littered the ground as Malachi leaned down for a quick kiss, his eyes gleaming.
“I love you. Of course I love you. Now stay behind me while I take care of these nuisances.”
He turned his back to her and drew two silver daggers from the sheaths against his skin just as six Grigori soldiers turned the corner.
Six? Where had the other three come from?
No matter, Malachi grinned in anticipation. Playing lovers’ games for the past week had been more than satisfying, but the hunter in him craved this fight. He paced across the alleyway, letting the Grigori come closer. Let them grow more confident. It would make them more fun to kill. The one in front could have been his brother, so alike were they in height and physique. But the soldier didn’t have what Malachi had—years of experience and the strength of his reshon flowing through his body.
Malachi faked to the right, more pleased than irritated when the Grigori wasn’t fooled. Their eyes met for a brief moment before the soldier’s eyes flicked to Ava standing behind him. He heard Ava let out a small sound of panic.
Enough. He’d forgotten she would be frightened.
Crossing his arms and brushing both hands along his tattoos, Malachi felt the preternatural strength flood his body. His eyes grew stronger in the early evening gloom. His hearing more acute. He could track the soldiers’ movements almost as if the men were moving in slow motion. And he could hear the two soldiers the Grigori had stationed at the mouth of the alley to warn away any passersby. Ava’s pulse hammered behind him. The rush of blood filled his ears.
By the time Malachi pulled his knife, he’d already darted to the left, pulling one soldier by his arm, spinning him around and plunging the silver knife into the base of his skull. He shoved the body away as it began to disintegrate, only to grab another, his movements so fast he saw Grigori eyes blur.
Spinning around, he caught one with a swift kick to the jaw, sending him to the ground as he knifed the second Grigori in the neck. He could feel the gold, sand-like dust coat his hands before the wind lifted it, shielding him from the view of the fallen soldier’s compatriots. Through it all, his senses were tuned to Ava, who continued to stay directly behind him, not cowering in a corner, but shadowing him, keeping Malachi between her and the monsters.
The Grigori in front came toward him, ignoring the scrambling of the other soldiers. The man’s eyes flicked to Ava again, and he moved as if to approach her, drawing Malachi’s attention from the soldier he’d been about to knife. He sliced at the man’s neck and threw him to the ground, only to have the Grigori’s foot whip toward him unexpectedly.
The kick surprised Malachi, causing him to lose the knife he’d used on three of the men. It clattered to the ground, but Malachi did not pick it up, instead shoving it behind him with his boot, toward Ava, while he grabbed for his second dagger with his left hand. In the seconds he was distracted, the Grigori had come within a few feet, attacking with far more skill than the other soldiers.
But just before he reached Malachi, he darted to the left and toward Ava. From over his shoulder, he saw a flash of silver. Then the powerful Grigori stopped in his tracks as the knife plunged into his eye.
Malachi seized the opportunity, grabbing the man as he screamed in pain, spinning him around, then smashing his dagger into the base of the his skull. He grabbed the other knife as the man’s corpse disintegrated in a river of gold sand before it was gathered by the wind and lifted toward the heavens. The three remaining soldiers stood stunned as their captain drifted away, then one ran while the other made a last attempt at his mission.
It wasn’t successful.
Malachi kicked him to the ground with a boot to his knee, then crouched on top of the soldier. Turning the Grigori facedown, he slammed the dagger home.
In the back of his mind, he heard the cries of the children left in his village, hidden by the Irina who had been slaughtered. He blinked at the memory of a little girl, her arm riddled with bites from her own teeth as she forced herself to remain quiet in the hiding space under the floorboards. Her hollow eyes and blood-stained lips haunted him as he moved to the last soldier on the ground, blood still pouring from the gash in his neck where Malachi had slashed him.
“Please. Please. Please.”
With a swift jerk, Malachi flipped the soldier over and ended his life.
Bowing over the corpse as it dissolved, he let his head hang as he opened his senses. The last soldier had fled with the other two who’d been standing guard. He could hear them fleeing toward the main road. Then car doors slammed shut and an engine roared to life before speeding away. Whoever had sent the soldiers would know where they were and that the attempt had not been successful.
He finally turned to Ava, who was standing stunned and wide-eyed, staring at the ground.
Roused from the fight, he blinked and tried to read her expression.
“Ava?”