Chapters (42)
- TITLE PAGE
- COPYRIGHT PAGE
- DEDICATION PAGE
- CONTENTS
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My existence shrank to the two feet in front of me. Nothing could slow or stop the slash of my blade, fueled by deadly rage and fierce love. Blood flowed sticky over my hands as I stabbed and withdrew, stabbed and withdrew, planning to kill every single Mazikin who had dared to touch him, dared to hurt him, dared to stand between the two of us. I was beyond reason or rational thought. Beyond pain. Beyond doubt.
Teeth bared and snapping, nails jagged and clawing, the Mazikin lunged. But they couldn’t stop or subdue me. I cut off fingers. Noses. Jammed my knife into eye sockets and necks and guts. Cracked my elbows against mouths and cheekbones and slammed my knee into groins and bellies. They fell onto each other, leaking crimson into a giant puddle on the floor, and it wasn’t enough. I wanted them to drown in their own blood. Red was the only color I could see. I was sure I was bleeding and breaking beneath the assault, but I couldn’t feel it. I knew eventually I’d go down, but I fought for the next moment, the next satisfying vibration as metal sank through flesh and collided with bone. The coppery scent filled my nose, blocking out the stench of incense. All I could hear was the roar of my own heart beating in my ears.
Until one voice cut through all of it. “Get away from her!”
It was so loud, so powerful and authoritative, that all the surviving Mazikin went still for a moment, and then turned away from me to look at the voice’s owner. It was Malachi. The severed ropes dangled from his wrists. One of his razor-sharp throwing knives was dangling from his clenched fist. Blood was smeared along his chest from the wound in his neck, but he stood on the table, unbroken and strong.
Before I could figure out what had happened, the Mazikin next to me growled and clamped his clawed hand around my throat.
Malachi’s knife sliced through the air and plunged into the Mazikin’s back with a hollow thud, and it dropped to the floor without a sound. The creatures around me snarled, and I sank against the wall under the weight of my relief. I’d cut through that rope enough for him to get his hand free, and that had been all he needed. He’d freed himself. Somehow, he’d fought off the smoke beast.