Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Kieran was out of breath and a bead of sweat ran down his cheek—which was a feat for a Winter Fae.
His sword was reduced to a handle and the jagged shard that remained of the blade.
He relied on agility and quick thinking to avoid taking damage, but the assassin was relentless.
Never seemed to fatigue or succumb to injury, and his skill at combat was remarkable, even without the enhancement.
But the assassin had lost a lot of blood. He had to be unconscious soon.
Kieran peered around a corner. He had bought himself a few seconds with the well-timed hit that had sacrificed his blade. The spray of fragmented metal had caused the assassin to shield his eyes and turn, crying out when shrapnel hit his face.
The assassin recovered, but he was slowing.
Kieran’s strategy was to outlast, but that may have been a stretch given that not only was the heat in this building starting to generate some lag in his movements, but the iron all around him—nails and screws and fasteners—had skipped the headache and settled straight into nausea.
Probably not helped by the exertion, but Kieran was beginning to wonder if he might need a new plan.
He had been landing as many precise cuts as he could, forcing more and more blood from various wounds, until not even Divinity could combat the loss of so much vital fluid.
Or, so he hoped. There were a couple reported instances of Divinity healing the user, but that was only after the initial injection while the drug took hold.
So far, nothing suggested those healing capabilities lasted beyond the first ten minutes, the ten minutes that was just as likely to kill the user.
As the hall grew quiet, one of the doors opened. A tenant peeked out.
Shit.
A woman shuffled from her apartment, drawing the assassin’s attention. A shadow burst into concrete shape behind her, consuming her body as the assassin charged.
Kieran huffed. Damn it.
Unable to remain hidden, he chased, taking advantage of the distraction to drive the remainder of his blade into the man’s back. As the assassin cried out, Kieran side-stepped flailing limbs and pushed the woman back inside. She stared up at him with large, fearful eyes.
“Lock the door,” he ordered, before closing her inside.
This most recent wound was deep and dripping. Kieran caught his breath as the man stumbled to his knees. Kieran walked forward as the assassin lingered on all fours and yanked his sword free, carefully dodging the splatter that followed.
Kieran leaned into one of the walls, resting while he waited for the assassin to collapse. If he learned anything over the past twenty minutes, it was not to assume the man had lost the strength to continue. Kieran was content to wait him out while properly removed from his reach.
It took much too long for the assassin to finally fall, face-planting on the slatted floor.
A shadow took shape over his body. Without medical treatment, he would die. Kieran wrestled with indecision. It went against his every instinct not to render aid if it would save a life. Even the life of this man, who had no qualms stealing it from others.
Kieran reasoned that he would return once he found Seth safe and unharmed. It was the best he could do, and Seth didn’t deserve to suffer because this man had chosen the wrong career. Dragging himself upright, Kieran proceeded back to the first floor and stopped at the first apartment.
He knocked.
No answer.
On to the next. He wished he had asked Sera for her apartment number. With any luck, it wouldn’t be one of the upper floors. Or this was going to take a while.
—
Around the fifth floor, Kieran’s fatigue from the fight had mostly subsided.
The heat exhaustion and iron, however, were in full force, his head pounding and stomach rolling.
It was not normally this bad, even in the old buildings around the Ring.
Perhaps the fight had exacerbated his reaction or he was just particularly sensitive, but he had a new appreciation for those that lived outside the fae Courts.
As he walked, he did his best to reorder his clothes where possible, but obvious tears and dirt were unavoidable. That didn’t stop him from adjusting everything back into their ordered, neat positions.
So far, his knocks were met with silence while the occasional answer revealed wrong door, after wrong door. Drained, bruised, and in need of a shower, he knocked on 6C, waited, and prepared to move on.
The door opened just as he turned.
“North?” Seth called from inside the apartment, a box with ornate Summer patterns clutched to his chest. Kieran was surprised by the onslaught of elation and relief. He could have hugged him.
Seth was safe. Which meant Sera would not be devastated. He had done his part. Now he needed to wait for her. Hopefully not too long. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his collar and then his cuffs. Then he turned back to Seth, who gawked with open curiosity.
“I’m here for Sera. Cole posted an assassin to tail you should she not follow his orders.
That assassin has been dispatched and the threat to you no longer remains.
” Kieran paused, then cast a very obvious and pronounced glance over Seth’s shoulder.
Seth followed the motion, looking behind him, then forward again.
“Yes, the threat has been eliminated. Now we must—”
A blood-chilling scream silenced him. Seth and Kieran listened, hearing nothing for several seconds.
Acting on instinct, Kieran pushed Seth inside and threw the door closed behind them.
Kieran pressed his ear to the door, attempting to hear any other indication of distress.
Had the assassin regained consciousness?
Did Divinity continue to heal the user longer than predicted?
Fucking hell, there had to be a limit, even with Divine blessing. Though, what little he knew of guardians did not include healing abilities. But what else could have caused the scream?
When he heard nothing more, he shared a look with Seth. Seth had regained his footing and clutched his box like it contained precious jewels.
“I’m going to check outside, please don’t die in the meantime,” Kieran ordered.
Seth gave him a droll look, not amused.
Kieran slipped back into the hall, listening, on edge. He sniffed as he detected an odd scent and something catching on the air…
Smoke.
A faint trail of black plumes rose from the stairs. Seth had followed, sharing a similar knowing look of concern, his olfactory senses on par with Kieran’s. There was no time to process before the building was rocked by an explosion from the ground floor.
Chancing another look down the stairs, Kieran cursed in Faery. There was no going back down that way. The lower floors were engulfed in flames. He returned to the apartment and shut the door.
A quick glance showed the start of a shadow, perched but not ravenous, and fully formed on Seth’s shoulder. Kieran suspected an identical version hovered behind himself.
“W-what now?”
The apartment was bare, probably stripped clean of whatever Seth and Sera had left behind and no new tenant had taken their place.
Kieran nodded toward the window facing the street. “I don’t suppose you have a very long ladder tucked away somewhere?”
Checking outside, Kieran glanced back when his quick assessment showed no signs of any way down save a very long jump. “Normally, buildings of this size are required to install fire-prevention equipment and access to outer descending stairs.”
“No one here is calling code enforcement, okay? We’re lucky when the roof doesn’t leak.”
“That’s extremely dangerous,” Kieran mumbled, more to himself as he tried to piece out a solution.
Seth gestured toward the ground where the inferno was likely devouring the older, brittle wood at an unwelcome pace on the floors below. “You think?”
“Does no good to dwell on it now, but if we survive, I can add it to the list,” Kieran said, searching for options.
Climb to the neighboring building? He checked a second window on the farther side of the room.
Peering out, he could see no path or way to get from one side to the other.
No ledges or railings or even the barest hand-holds.
And it was much too far to jump or reach.
The building shook again. They were nearly thrown to the floor, latching onto the walls for support.
“This thing has been cobbled together like a kid’s art project. It’s not going to last,” Seth yelled, his voice rising an octave with panic.
“Thank you for the observation, but a suggestion would be more useful.”
Seth glared.
Returning to check the street outside for an indication of what was happening, Kieran noted the movements of people, a condensed group seemingly working together to combat something, their placement strategic.
He picked out Miles in the commotion, the ever present shadow still hovering just off the man’s shoulder, indicating that it was still the distant terminal illness that would end him and not this battle.
The woman in the mask stood on an opposite building, firing arrows toward the street.
Kieran craned for a better vantage at the front of Sera’s building, and found a flamboyantly dressed man tearing through attackers like they were toys. Cole.
“So? What do we do?”
Kieran frowned. “Why is it my job to come up with the plan? This is your apartment. Is there no back entrance or second stairwell that might not be actively on fire?”
Seth’s face twisted with sarcasm before shifting to recognition. “Oh, wait, yeah.”
“And that did not occur to you until now?”
“Look! I can’t think when I’m too focused on the real possibility of being burned alive, okay?”
Kieran checked on Seth’s shadow, its form hadn’t moved. Death was still far enough away. They had time.