Page 33 of Thief of Souls
Kidnapper?
Damn it, Soraya.Where are you? What happened to you?
“I think,” Belladonna whispers, her gaze cutting right through me before it searches on, “that someone has returned to finish the job.” She steps closer to me. “What are you searching for, little thief? Didn’t you find it the other night?”
I glance toward the open window. It’s a temptation and a lie, because she’ll be expecting me to go for it. And Anissa stands between me and the door.
Anissa starts tugging the sheets out from under the mattress, lifting the corners of the bed. “The letters have to be here somewhere.”
I just need her to move a fraction to the left—
There it is.
I Sift toward the door. The only problem with my magic is that it’s restricted to line of sight, and so, if I wish to escape the room, I need to be able to open the door to see past it.
“There!” Belladonna cries, and something—a slash of magic—cuts into my back. “There’s blood! Near the door!”
I jerk the door open, solidifying just enough to be able to use the handle and then—
The door is torn from my fingers, slamming closed.
Another Sift, and I’m behind them.
Belladonna turns as if she can see me—or maybe she can scent my blood—and then she has a knife in her hand.
This is what I know. My body reacts as that blade lashes out and I catch her hand, rolling beneath the blow and tossing her over my shoulder. A startled squeak escapes her. I’m punching in and out of shadow, forming for the barest fraction of a second—just enough to throw her—before I vanish again.
It must feel like wrestling with a shadow.
Belladonna lands on the bed and her knife drives into the wall beside Anissa, point first. Anissa screams, hands jerking up far, far too late. The knife missed her by an inch.
Belladonna’s focus locks on her friend and then knife, and then an expression of pure rage twists her features.
Past time to be going.
Belladonna rolls free of the tangle of sheets, and then whips her hand toward me as if she’s throwing something.
A sharp slash of heat whips across my abdomen.
There’s four feet between us but she might as well have a knife in hand.
Blood magic.
And here I am, with only my shadows to save me.
I know when the odds are against me. I punch into shadows, reforming on the window ledge with one hand clapped over my wound. One last look back, where I catch her startled glance, and then I throw myself out the window.
The wind catches me, and then I Sift again.
Gone.
Unseen.
But not unnoticed.
7
“What happened?” Keir grabs two handfuls of my shirt and tears it apart, revealing the blood that weeps down my side.
