quickly, spine cracking, gauze sliding off the long lines of sores and wounds she had treated. In the few moments she had looked away, his face had regained its humanity, as had his flesh. The scales were gone, jaw normal, teeth no longer razor sharp. Only his eyes still shimmered with magic, lost behind a rough mane of golden hair.
He helped her free his ankles, fumbling at the last moment as a faint tremor raced through his body. When the last shackle was loosened, he stood, swaying, his joints still popping. The sheet fell away. Soria ducked her head, trying not to look, but Karr reached down and grabbed her hand. He pulled her up, fast, and then bent to pick up the gun.
He held it awkwardly on his palm, the barrel pointed at her. Instinct took over. She reached out without thinking, plucking it deftly from his grip. He let her, though his eyes narrowed.
“I did not free you to hurt you,” she said, remembering the video of the catacomb, and how a simple reassurance would have probably prevented the deaths that followed. Maybe. Except for Serena.
Karr’s jaw tightened. “That means nothing to me.”
“Mercy,” she whispered, struggling to pronounce the soft growl. “I think
that
means something to you.”
He went very still. Soria tore her gaze from him, looking down at the gun. The safety was off, and the weapon felt odd in her left hand, unnatural. Holding it frightened her, but Soria could not bring herself to put it down. A crazy woman. She was crazy for doing this.
It won’t make the dark place go away inside you,
whispered a small, hard voice in her head.
It won’t make it easier to sleep at night. You were reckless the last time you got hurt.
And before
that
she had been reckless, too; in that free-spirited, love-of-life way that had taken her on long journeys down unfamiliar roads, into the most remote regions of the world, with only luck, brains, and a gift for languages to keep her safe. She had considered the consequences and danger but never let herself be ruled by fear. She’d never imagined that what could go wrong actually would. She had trusted people as much as her instincts would let her.
Now, here, she felt that same drive in her gut, that old intuition. She had thought it dead inside her; trust, gone forever. Maybe it should have stayed dead.
Karr glanced sharply at the open door. Soria heard nothing, but in two smooth movements the shape-shifter crossed the room and pressed himself against the wall. She followed, but was several steps away when he lunged through the door into the hall, golden light streaking across his skin. Soria heard a muffled snarl—and watched in horror as Karr stumbled back into view, a leopard clawing at his shimmering body.
Soria ran forward, but there was nothing she could do as Karr slammed his arm into the leopard’s mouth, trying to push her away. Robert and Ku-Ku were nowhere in sight. The gun was useless in Soria’s hand.
“Serena!”
she screamed, shoving the weapon into the elastic waistband of her leggings. She lunged and grabbed the leopard’s slashing tail, hauling backward as hard as she could.
The shape-shifter twisted violently and her body began to shift, a transformation of light and flesh that lengthened her legs and straightened her spine. She did not stop fighting, though. She struggled harder, with terrifying desperation. Karr pivoted on one foot and slammed Serena so hard against the wall it cracked. Merciless, enraged.
Soria heard a scuffing sound behind her, and she turned. One of the masked gunmen had appeared, was raising a weapon. His eyes widened when he saw Karr and Serena, and he stared with a horror that seemed to melt through his ski mask. Soria was afraid he would piss himself. She had a feeling her own bladder might empty, were their positions reversed: the sounds that Serena and Karr were making as they tore into each other were hair-raising, and the spectacle of their desperate inhuman bodies was something out of a
He helped her free his ankles, fumbling at the last moment as a faint tremor raced through his body. When the last shackle was loosened, he stood, swaying, his joints still popping. The sheet fell away. Soria ducked her head, trying not to look, but Karr reached down and grabbed her hand. He pulled her up, fast, and then bent to pick up the gun.
He held it awkwardly on his palm, the barrel pointed at her. Instinct took over. She reached out without thinking, plucking it deftly from his grip. He let her, though his eyes narrowed.
“I did not free you to hurt you,” she said, remembering the video of the catacomb, and how a simple reassurance would have probably prevented the deaths that followed. Maybe. Except for Serena.
Karr’s jaw tightened. “That means nothing to me.”
“Mercy,” she whispered, struggling to pronounce the soft growl. “I think
that
means something to you.”
He went very still. Soria tore her gaze from him, looking down at the gun. The safety was off, and the weapon felt odd in her left hand, unnatural. Holding it frightened her, but Soria could not bring herself to put it down. A crazy woman. She was crazy for doing this.
It won’t make the dark place go away inside you,
whispered a small, hard voice in her head.
It won’t make it easier to sleep at night. You were reckless the last time you got hurt.
And before
that
she had been reckless, too; in that free-spirited, love-of-life way that had taken her on long journeys down unfamiliar roads, into the most remote regions of the world, with only luck, brains, and a gift for languages to keep her safe. She had considered the consequences and danger but never let herself be ruled by fear. She’d never imagined that what could go wrong actually would. She had trusted people as much as her instincts would let her.
Now, here, she felt that same drive in her gut, that old intuition. She had thought it dead inside her; trust, gone forever. Maybe it should have stayed dead.
Karr glanced sharply at the open door. Soria heard nothing, but in two smooth movements the shape-shifter crossed the room and pressed himself against the wall. She followed, but was several steps away when he lunged through the door into the hall, golden light streaking across his skin. Soria heard a muffled snarl—and watched in horror as Karr stumbled back into view, a leopard clawing at his shimmering body.
Soria ran forward, but there was nothing she could do as Karr slammed his arm into the leopard’s mouth, trying to push her away. Robert and Ku-Ku were nowhere in sight. The gun was useless in Soria’s hand.
“Serena!”
she screamed, shoving the weapon into the elastic waistband of her leggings. She lunged and grabbed the leopard’s slashing tail, hauling backward as hard as she could.
The shape-shifter twisted violently and her body began to shift, a transformation of light and flesh that lengthened her legs and straightened her spine. She did not stop fighting, though. She struggled harder, with terrifying desperation. Karr pivoted on one foot and slammed Serena so hard against the wall it cracked. Merciless, enraged.
Soria heard a scuffing sound behind her, and she turned. One of the masked gunmen had appeared, was raising a weapon. His eyes widened when he saw Karr and Serena, and he stared with a horror that seemed to melt through his ski mask. Soria was afraid he would piss himself. She had a feeling her own bladder might empty, were their positions reversed: the sounds that Serena and Karr were making as they tore into each other were hair-raising, and the spectacle of their desperate inhuman bodies was something out of a
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