Chapter 11 Elodie #2
Leaping back, I parried the downward blow with difficulty. Whoever swung that sword was magically overpowered, or they were just hoping to take my head off quickly. Perhaps both.
I waited, tense and ready to strike just outside the doorway, where I had room to maneuver and they’d be at a disadvantage. But the blow didn’t come from ahead as I was prepared for. It came in the form of a garrote slipped over my head from behind.
On instinct, I switched my sword to a single-hand grip, inserting my other hand between my throat and the deadly black wire. I stopped it before he could dig it into my flesh and strangle me, barely.
My thoughts ran in short, staccato bursts, fueled by fight-or-flight instincts.
At least two attackers. One armed with a blade. One choking me from behind.
A quick analysis of the situation, and I didn’t have time to delay.
When you were outnumbered, action always beat inaction.
Not to mention the garrote around my neck was a ticking time bomb.
Less oxygen meant less fuel to my muscles.
Eventually, I would lose if I didn’t get free, and the longer it took, the poorer my odds of survival.
Grip firm on the wire, I lunged forward, temporarily increasing the pressure on my windpipe as I swept my sword around behind his legs, then throwing my full body weight backward, taking us both down to the hard marble floor, despite the would-be-choker’s height advantage.
There was a satisfying crack as my attacker’s skull met the ground, and the rope went suddenly slack in my grip. I snatched it free and leap-rolled to the side, getting clear of his range of motion before he could regain his balance. My brain cataloged details as my body scrambled for oxygen.
Medium height, nondescript black clothing, very well trained in hand-to-hand combat. Drakenia assassin. I knew at least one had already attacked the pack. It was one of the reasons Galyna and I had been put on the job in the first place.
By the time my mental catalog was done, I was back on my feet, but so was he, and his sword-wielding friend had used the distraction to emerge from the room.
They were both males, black clad from head to toe and heavily armed.
The two of them began to go wide, circling around me.
If they could split my attention, they’d have the upper hand. So I couldn’t let them.
I lifted my sword and charged the one I’d taken to the ground, betting he was still slightly disoriented from the blow to the back of the head. Meanwhile, I flung the garrote at the second attacker’s face, whipping the end as I released it so it would spin end over end.
The taller one’s reactions were still whip-sharp, though, and he blocked my swing with a forearm-length dagger.
These fuckers are stronger than they should be.
They looked human and may have been wearing scent blockers, because even my wolf couldn’t get a read on their species.
The pieces clicked together, and the first trickle of fear entered my bloodstream. One Drakenia assassin could easily take out two to three attackers alone. So why send two? Whoever had sent them wasn’t taking any chances.
Despite the odds, though, I couldn’t run. My charges were in that safe room, and I would hold this ground until backup came or my lifeblood soaked the marble.
The low notes of a battle song began to twirl through my mind, and out of habit, I sang. It settled me in a way little else did, making this feel like practice instead of life and death.
When the shorter assassin came in low from the side, I was ready. I jumped straight up, striking downward with my sword and catching the tip on his shoulder as he skidded beneath me. It sank in enough for me to know I’d hurt him, which was a good start.
His friend with the headache aimed high, tossing one of his two daggers straight at my throat.
I blocked with a forearm, the painful bite of steel into flesh stealing my breath.
But I couldn’t stop, or they’d do more than cut me.
I wrenched the dagger free of my arm and flung it toward his eye with deadly precision, but he caught the flat of the blade between his palms before it could sink into his eye socket, letting the second dagger clatter to the floor.
As soon as I landed, I launched another series of attacks, pressing headache guy back, back, back toward the wall, all while keeping my senses tuned for his friend.
Mr. Headache stumbled as his heel caught on his own garrote, flailing his arms for balance, and that was my chance. I lifted my sword overhead for a two-handed slash and lopped off the arm that held the remaining dagger.
Blood spurted as he fell screaming, but I turned my back, all my focus on the second attacker.
He seemed content to wait, for some odd reason, defending against my blows but never pressing. He certainly didn’t deign to look to his fallen comrade. No, this one was as cold as ice. Perhaps he resented being sent in a pair?
From what I knew, Drakenia preferred to work alone.
I took a single stride in his direction before it hit me.
Wooziness, and the sickening feeling that I was about to vomit.
Shit, the dagger was poisoned.
A new clock was ticking on my life, and I reached for my wolf. A shift would heal the wound on my arm, but wouldn’t stop the poison ticking through our system. But my wolf’s reflexes were greater, and while it went against all my training to drop my sword…
I careened forward, the fast-acting poison making me lose control of my limbs, all the strength draining out of me.
I mentally braced for the impact—I could no longer lift my arms—but steel bands around my chest stopped my descent midflight, a vicious growl tearing out of a masculine throat behind me.
“I’ve got you, Firecracker.”
Valens.
Why did the gentle way he laid me back on the floor make me want to weep? Even as a designated alpha and pack second, he’d be hard-pressed to hold off a trained assassin without the backing of his pack. And I still had no clue what kind of magical ability this one had up his sleeve.
But Valens didn’t hesitate, charging forward with an enraged growl as his massive, umber-and-cream wolf sprang free from his skin in a shower of shredded clothing.
My vision was going dim, soft, fuzzy black closing in on me from every direction as the sound of tearing flesh reached me.
My head lolled toward the safe room as my shoulders lost control, and anguish washed over me when the door clicked open.
No. Save yourselves.
But the thoughts would never become words. My lips had gone numb, and the last thing I saw as the lights went out was Galyna, charging out like an avenging angel, come to slay my killer.
I failed.
I failed.