Read Online Dark Currents by Lindsay Buroker - Free Book Online Page B

he muttered. “Not—”
    The man hefted the club overhead, and Books stumbled back, not sure he could evade the blow this time.
    The door flew open. Books’s attacker froze, then whirled, charging them.
    “Enforcers! Halt!”
    A crossbow twanged.
    Someone grabbed Books’s arm from behind. He tried to spin and pull away. It was Sicarius.
    “Stairs,” he barked.
    “But Vonsha—” Books slurred.
    “They have her.” Sicarius yanked on Books’s arm, dragging him forward.
    He stumbled up the stairs after Sicarius, and they escaped through a window. He slipped, trying to climb down, and landed hard on his back. Sicarius yanked him to his feet. Blackness flirted with Books’s consciousness, and the rest of the retreat faded to a blur.

CHAPTER 6
     
    A maranthe leaned against the side of a headless statue, one of thousands in the capital that gave it the dubious nickname of “Stumps.” She wore the hood of her parka pulled low over her eyes while she watched the busy street.
    Though evening had fallen hours earlier, people clogged the sidewalks. Numerous drunk men meandered onto the cobblestones where they provided ambulatory obstacles for bicyclists and the occasional steam carriage. Gambling houses, sport venues, and drinking and eating houses packed the neighborhood. Many of the male passersby wore the lush, vibrant clothing—and gold-gilded swords—of the warrior caste, but just as many had the miens of off-duty soldiers. More than one black-clad figure wearing weapons strode past, and Amaranthe did a few double glances, thinking one might be Sicarius. But, despite his disinterest in disguises, he had a knack for invisibility, and he would likely find her first.
    Disguises were on her mind as the sea of people moved about her, any one of whom would turn her in, either for the reward, or simply because she was a wanted felon. She touched the hilt of her short sword, reassured by its presence. She wondered what Maldynado would find for her to wear. She probably should have gone shopping with him, though more than once he had pointed out he had an easier time getting bargains from the predominantly female merchants in the city if they thought him unattached.
    A familiar man ambled past, hand on the ruby-crusted pommel of one of his own swords, obviously selected to offset crimson embroidery on his black vest. Maldynado. He had no shopping bags tucked under his arms. So much for her disguise.
    Figuring he would not spot her with the hood, Amaranthe lifted a hand and stepped away from the statue.
    “We have a problem,” came a voice from behind.
    Amaranthe jumped before recognition caught up to reflexes. Sicarius.
    “Your ability to find me despite the fact I’m hiding incognito in the shadows?” she asked.
    He drew her into an alcove behind an overflowing bicycle rack. Maldynado stopped on the street corner to chat with a group of ladies. He must have come with Sicarius.
    “What’s going on?” Amaranthe asked.
    Perhaps as a concession to the number of weapons dangling on nearby hips, Sicarius, too, wore a jacket with a hood. Black, of course. “The area where Books was researching was attacked,” he said. “There was a woman with him. He may or may not have been the target, but someone sent six men to do the job. I took care of them while he fumbled through rescuing the unconscious woman.”
    “Is he all right?” she asked, more concerned by that than whether Books had pulled his own weight in a fight.
    “He’s injured but not mortally so. I found Basilard, and he assisted Books back to the pumping house.”
    She wrestled with the temptation to forgo the gambling house visit and check on Books. Sicarius’s idea of “injured but not mortally so” could involve missing limbs and eyes. But if he had Basilard to watch over him, Books ought to survive without her for a few hours. It was not as if she had vast medical expertise.
    “Thanks for making sure he got back. Shall we head into Ergot’s