Page 95 of Mistress of Bones
“And if you’re lucky,” Isadora continued, “you will recognize the feeling for what it is before it’s too late and they slip out of your reach.”
Miss something so obvious?Azul asked herself.Doubtful.
THE PRESENT
Esparza cursed and charged the man behind Enjul—one of the two guards left for dead outside. Lightning-fast, he ran a dagger across his throat.
Azul caught Enjul as his legs buckled. Grunting, she dropped to the floor, hard on her knees. With growing horror, she looked over his shoulder to see the guard stumble back, throat gaping open, then steady himself, rapier raised, ready to strike again.
“Fuck!” Esparza exclaimed, hitting the guard’s face with the hilt of his dagger. The man crashed against one of the tables, then tried to right himself. Esparza fell on him, smashing his dagger on the guard’s head, over and over until all the body did was twitch, and then again and again until that, too, finally stopped.
Breathing hard, Esparza stepped away, his face and the front of his tabard spattered with blood. “Gods!” he yelled. “Gods!”
“The other!” shouted Azul.
Esparza jerked back. The second guard filled the doorway, a hole in his waistcoat marking the spot where Enjul had twisted his sword. Losing no time, the guard lifted his pistol and fired.
The explosion tore into their ears. Azul hunched and wrapped her arms around Enjul, squeezing her eyes tight, then blinking away tears. Esparza looked shocked but unhurt and, recovering much faster than her, tackled the second guard.
Azul loosened her grip on Enjul and let him slide to the floor. Stumbling forward, she reached for the living corpse as he grabbed Esparza’s throat, grasping the guard’s sleeve, pulling the fabric until she found skin.
The guard’s hold slackened immediately. The muscle under his clothes shrank until he crumpled to the floor in a mass of cloth and fetid flesh.
Esparza retched. “Fuck,” he said in a broken whisper, then wipedhis mouth with the back of his hand. He dared a look at the remains of the guard and shuddered. Bringing two crossed fingers to his chest, he muttered, “Blessed Heart have mercy on me, keep me safe from those who’ll drag me into the Void.”
Azul knelt by Enjul. Coughs shook his body. He lifted a hand and tried to rake at his mask, so Azul removed it for him. His eyes were naked in their shock. Terror stiffened every line of his face.
Trembling, she opened his waistcoat and shirt. An ugly puncture wound was seeping blood down his chest. She pressed her hands against it, trying to stem the bleeding. His skin had lost all color; sweat had plastered his hair to his temples and neck. She pressed harder.
“But at Diel…” She faltered, caught by the strange brightness in his eyes.
He opened his mouth, coughed more blood, then wrinkled his brows. He tried again, and she leaned down.
His hand sneaked up to touch her face, trembling and clammy against her skin.
“Go, Azul,” he managed. “He cannot know what you are.”
“No,” she said, hands firm on his chest. “He must already guess I killed his guard and Zenjiel.”
“Might still… doubt which of us… Go. You’re a… liability… for him.”
Still Azul refused. “We’ll get help.”
A smile curved his lips, small and genuine and the most unguarded thing she had ever witnessed from him. “Too late, Azul. The god…”
“But you can’t die,” she said, voice hitching. “You’re not supposed to be able to die. Ask your god to save you!”
“Not here. Not… this time.”
Then she understood. How could the Lord Death do that in Sancia? This was not his domain. Unlike in Valanje, Sancians had killed all connection between the gods and the land by ransacking their bones.
Enjul’s eyes widened, and his mouth suddenly twisted in horror, his body attempting to recoil from her.
“Don’t bring me back,” he begged in such a frightened voice it raised the hairs of her arms. “I want to stay with him.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. She saw herself then as he saw her: a monster, something worse than death.
“Stop,” she begged. “I promise. Save your breath.”
