Page 63 of Splintered Shadow
Ghost snarled and jumped at the attacker. Wooziness washed over her as Ghost’s vantage clashed with what her body felt. A hand clamped over her mouth. No claws, so probably a man. Ghost’s teeth sank into her attacker’s arm.
The attacker released Sarah. She scrambled away, disoriented by the noise and what she saw through Ghost’s eyes. The edge of the signing table dug into her hip. Smoke stung her eyes.
A kick landed on Ghost’s ribs. He squealed in pain.
“Stop! He’s a baby,” she said. Desperate for any sort of weapon, she groped around the table. She knocked over one of the vases stuffed with flowers.
She hefted the vase over her head and brought it down on the man who kicked Ghost. He staggered back, clutching his head. She swung the vase again. It was heavier than it looked.
This time, it shattered on impact.
The man growled, clearly infuriated. He seemed to grow taller. Darker. He had wings, but not the feathery angelic sort that Vekele sported. These seemed leathery, like a bat. What little light there was gleamed on the vicious talon on the wingtip.
They swiped at her. She jumped back, tripping over a fallen chair and landing on her ass. She scrambled backward, her shoes sliding across the polished floor.
Pitch screeched, diving directly for the man’s head. He shouted, arms waving to fend off the massive bird.
Sarah crawled to the table, hiding partially under the cloth. The air was easier to breathe near the floor. Was it gas or smoke from a fire? She couldn’t tell.
“Princess, with me,” a woman said, tearing away her hiding place. Sarah recognized her as one of the king’s guards, Kenth.
Sarah climbed to her feet, coughing from the smoke.
They made it exactly two steps before Kenth staggered and crumpled to the floor.
“No, no. Please be okay,” Sarah said, pressing her hand to the spreading stain on the woman’s front. She was unresponsive but breathing. There was so much blood. Where were the guards? The king?
“Someone help us!” she shouted, looking frantically in the darkened room for assistance. Instead, she found a nightmare.
Vekele was fighting off two attackers. He moved with mesmerizing grace, blocking blows, and getting his own hits in.
He spun, wing raised to block, and spun again to strike. He kicked low, missing his opponent’s leg. The other attacker landed a blow to his shoulder in the sensitive area between his wings. Two against one wasn’t fair odds, and he could not keep the pace up forever. They had weapons. Vekele only had his fists.
Ghost nipped at her hand, grabbing her attention. Danger coursed through their bond.
It’s all danger in here.
A figure emerged from the gloom, standing directly in front of Vekele. Too close. They raised a pistol. At that distance, it would be impossible to miss.
The figure raised the pistol, the barrel gleaming in the poor light.
“No!” She couldn’t lose another person she loved. Not again. Her heart wasn’t strong enough. She threw out a hand and something…odd… happened. Something inside her, the same thing that felt like Ghost, pulled.
An inky black tendril rose from the gloom and swiped at the attacker, knocking the pistol to one side.
The shot missed Vekele. Relief flooded through her.
As quickly as it appeared, the tendril vanished.
Sarah’s knees gave out, her body suddenly too heavy to stand upright.
What was that?
Vekele caught her by the elbow, preventing her from collapsing.
Vekele
“Hold on to Ghost,” Vekele said. That was all the warning he gave before scooping her up into his arms. There was no time for formalities. Sarah held onto Ghost, still snarling and trying to climb over her shoulder to tear out the throat of the nearest non-pack member, a sentiment he shared.
