Chapter Forty-Three #2
A thunderous pounding started up, the stomping coming from all across the area. Reluctantly, I added my voice to the chant, keeping the low tone. Simultaneously, Az and I raised our signs, his reading our gory deaths will bring your slow ones.
Stars above, Caleb hadn’t held back.
The sounds grew louder and louder, my ears aching as we followed the crowd, converging on Commander Maitoza.
Eadi who were obviously civilians stood amongst the outer ring of protesters, many of them looking around with flighty eyes and shaking limbs.
After a few rounds of chants, I caught sight of a handful of the bystanders beginning to nod, some of them daring to join in.
Each person in the crowd somehow knew that the tide was changing, with a sort of charged energy overtaking the square as Commander Maitoza raised both of her fists into the air and started screaming the words to her chant.
Shoving began, shouts growing louder. Despite the movement, Azazel kept us steady, holding me tightly as he stared wide-eyed at the protesters.
Within moments, everything changed.
Officials darted through the random passageways, their blue uniforms making them look like waves from the ocean as they barreled into the square.
Screams erupted, many eadi—including protesters holding signs—dispersing.
Yet, not all of them ran. Many clearly began readying for a fight, scowls and bared teeth and glaring eyes waiting for the officials.
Az and I looked at one another for a split second, his nod the only signal I needed to drop my sign and do an about-face, my sights set on an official that grabbed a small, young man, who yelped in pain as the official gripped his face and squeezed.
Silver-tinted clouds leaked from the official’s hand, pouring over the young man’s head.
Running now, I shoved into the official’s side, sending him flying to the ground, his head smacking into the stone path. “Run!” I shouted to the eadi, his tan skin beginning to bubble and blister. He nodded, taking off, and I rounded on the official.
When the official moved to stand, I shoved my boot into his face, forcing him back to the ground.
With Priya’s words in my mind, I took my foot and slammed it down into the man’s head.
Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times total, until he was a gory mess, his blonde hair soaked red and his pale skin coated in brain matter.
Lose the performative conscience.
Performative indeed.
Turning, I found another official, their gaze locked on me and their mouth twisted in a sneer. “Awe, was that a friend of yours?” I asked, winking his way.
He wasted no time, charging me before I got the final word out.
I laughed, ducking under him and using the momentum to push his body upwards, forcing him to twist and hit the ground sideways.
A groan slipped out of his mouth as he rolled, blood leaking from his mouth.
I didn’t bother to give him time to adjust or think, instead, I grabbed a knife from my tactical harness and shoved it deep into his ear.
Perhaps it was the poisonous magic within me that made me revel in the sound.
Or maybe it was my sister’s spirit guiding me forward.
Regardless, I took the blade out and shoved it into the side of his throat, dark red blood squirting all across my body and face.
Gagging, I stood, trying to wipe my face with the inner part of my cloak.
That was when someone leapt onto my back, bringing us both to the ground.
I nearly landed on my knife, only barely shoving out my arm in time before I hit the cobblestone with a teeth chattering smack.
Whoever had tackled me wrapped their arm around my neck and lifted, cutting off my airway.
I wheezed, clawing at them, but they didn’t let up.
If anything, they squeezed tighter. Every second without oxygen left me more dizzy, black spots beginning to appear as I brought my elbow down into their side.
Then I tried to roll, the movement pointless, as it only had them shoving me back into the ground, their body landing on mine and pinning me chest-down.
Was this really the end? I’d die now, while fighting, when I’d tried to go willingly more than once? How pathetic.
Ego boosting me, I pushed up, snapping my head back and catching the person in what felt like the nose. They yelped, but otherwise didn’t let go. I was losing nearly all sight now, the world going dark, but all I could do was thrash and scratch, hoping that something would work.
In the end, all I needed was a hand.
Well, a specific hand.
Azazel’s voice came just before his help.
“Get the fuck off my girl,” he boomed, his voice so loud and deep that I felt it in my nearly numb bones.
Then I could suddenly breathe again, the pressure gone from my back and throat all at once.
Gasping, I gently grabbed my neck, my chest rapidly rising and falling as I flipped onto my back.
Just in time to watch the show, it seemed.
Az lifted the official by his collar, the slightly smaller man sliding his boots across the ground to gain purchase.
“So, you like breath play, huh? Let’s play then. ”
Grinning like a feral, murderous animal, Az pressed his fingers into the official’s throat and squeezed. Everything happened quickly. One moment the man’s skin hid away his bones, blood, and tissue, the next Azazel was ripping a chunk of the official’s throat out, revealing what lay inside.
A second of screams from the official faded into desperate gargles as Az dropped him to the ground, smile still sharp and long. “Thanks,” I wheezed, my throat burning.
Azazel offered me a bloody hand, helping me up.
A quick peck to the lips, and then he was off, running at a set of officials who were dragging a woman with a sign down an alleyway.
I followed, hoping to make the fight an easier one.
As I reached the mouth of the dark alley, I realized how stupid I’d been.
Or perhaps how lucky.
Mere feet from Az stood the officials, their hands still tugging the woman, and another cloaked man. He wore a mask, his dark hair falling over his cloak and down to his chest. I’d recognize him anywhere, and he sure as the stars above recognized me.
“Nova?” he asked, taking a small step forward. He ripped off his mask, his auburn eyes wide and thick brows stitched. Rage colored my vision red, and I couldn’t help the gut-deep growl that vibrated up my throat.
“Talon,” I answered, sliding a knife out of the straps along my chest.