Chapter 11
ELEVEN
SLOAN
There were no words wasted between the two. Sloan was saving her breath for fighting; Kimberly was baring her teeth in rage.
The two combatants began walking toward one another, when Sloan had an epiphany.
If you’re going to try to end the fight before you gas out, then there’s no reason to hold back now, Sloan coached herself. Come on girl, this is it.
Sloan channeled the same warrior spirit she had come to love over the years. The same aggressive attitude that had seen her through brutal training drills in the army and live combat in numerous fights.
Sloan’s walk to the middle of the ring turned into a jog, and then a full-out run.
Kimberly saw her opponent charging and returned the act, her heavy footfalls booming against the mat as she came. A roar split the air as the gargoyle took flight and soared a few feet over the mat.
An idea so ridiculous it had to work entered Sloan’s mind.
Her timing would have to be perfect, but still, it should work.
As the two combatants were about to collide, Sloan jumped, cocking her right fist back.
With every ounce of her strength, Sloan let out a roar of her own as her fist made contact with the gargoyle’s face.
For the second time in the fight, Sloan felt like her hand had been broken.
The force with which her fist broke on the gargoyle’s face was enough for Sloan to wince under the pain.
The discomfort in her hand was short-lived.
Kimberly had collided with her so hard, it took Sloan’s breath away, and the two fighters rolled over and over again a mess of arms, legs, and wings.
When they finally came to a stop, Sloan found herself on top of the gargoyle.
Kimberly was stunned, trying to free herself from Sloan, but her actions were groggy and uncoordinated. Sloan jumped on the chance and begin sending strikes from both fists to Kimberly’s head—that she could now reach.
Something was happening inside Sloan as she punched over and over again. Not quiet anger, but a fury she didn’t know took over. Sloan’s fists battered against the gargoyle’s face, and blood flew through the air in tiny sprinkles of red.
Sloan was lost in a mad frenzy, until she felt her own blood trickle down her lips.
She paused to reach a hand to her mouth.
Something was off, but she couldn’t quite place what was wrong.
Sloan’s right pointer and middle fingers moved past her bleeding lip.
She touched her teeth. Canines larger than normal met her fingertips and sent a shiver of the unknown down her spine.
“What, what kind of an abomination are you?” Kimberly sputtered through a mouthful of blood.
“I—I don’t know.” Sloan forced her mind away from whatever she was becoming. She raised her right hand into a fist again. “Do you surrender?”
Kimberly’s face was a mess of cuts and bruises. Her warrior spirit was raging against her obvious defeat. Sloan knew the gargoyle wouldn’t surrender.
“We can call it a tie if that makes you feel better.” Sloan held her fist cocked in case her opponent decided to try anything. “All I want are my friends to go free. I don’t care about winning.”
Kimberly’s dark slate grey eyes took her in once more. There was knowledge in those eyes; yes, fury, but a controlled fury that spoke of not only her ability as a warrior, but also as a leader.
“You’ve won.” Kimberly let out a huge sigh. “The sun will be rising soon anyway. You can have your friends.”
Sloan fell more than moved off her position on top of the gargoyle. She landed on her back beside Kimberly with a heavy thud. Exhaustion would be the best word to describe how she felt. Her body was sore, her muscles screamed with fatigue.
There was no time to think of what she would do next as Edison, Oliver, Elwood, and Kimberly’s two guards ran into the ring to aid the combatants.
“You did it!” Oliver ran to Sloan’s side. “Are you injured?”
“I think?—”
Before Sloan could get any further into her sentence, the sound of pounding boots met everyone’s ears. Kimberly’s backyard was surrounded by tall, stone walls at least six feet tall, though that didn’t seem like a problem for the New Hope soldiers as they climbed over the barrier like ants.
Sloan struggled to her feet, trying to discern how many there were.
She had seen a handful in the bar with Kade, but it seemed that had been only a small portion of their number.
No less than twenty soldiers climbed over the wall.
All of whom were equipped with long-barreled rifles, pistols, and sabers.
“Grrrrr.” Kimberly fought her way to her feet with the aid of her two guards. “Seymour was supposed to be on lookout duty. I’m going to skin him when this is over.”
“In the name of Queen Eleanor Eckert of New Hope, you are commanded to surrender yourselves for questioning,” a gruff voice shouted.
Sloan recognized the voice. It was the same soldier she had seen in the bar—Tensor. She got a better look at him now. Past the muzzle of his gun trained on her, his uniform was emblazoned with her own previous rank: captain.
It was clear they were surrounded. Fresh, Sloan had no doubt she would be a match even for this number, but being barely able to stand made her rethink her options.
“I’m not going anywhere with them,” Kimberly whispered to her men. “Anyone taken by the queen never returns. Are you with me?”
The two guards nodded to her.
“I propose an alliance for the time being.” Kimberly turned her battered face slightly toward Sloan. “After we survive the soldiers, we can pick up where we left off.”
“There may be another option.” Sloan put her pinky and pointer finger of her left hand into her mouth, and whistled.