She drew her knives. He didn’t have the energy to tell her the weapons would be useless against a magical attack. She’d discover that lovely little surprise soon enough.
20
YELENA
I raced to Reema’s window. A grappling hook bit into the wood underneath the ledge. A rope with knots tied every couple of feet hung to the ground. I looked out in time to see a man hurrying away with a large sack slung over his shoulder. Reema!
Without thought, I swung my legs over the ledge, grasped the rope and scrambled down. Catching sight of his cloak disappearing around a corner, I followed him through Fulgor’s alleys and side streets, staying far enough back so he wouldn’t see me. There was just enough light from the lanterns to discern his form as he navigated the city.
I debated my next move. Should I rush him before he reached his destination? All I had was my switchblade, which I palmed. I’d left my cloak with its hidden darts and my bo staff at Opal’s. Perhaps I should wait until he arrived, then attack? What if he had friends? Maybe I should learn his destination and then fetch help. But what if he left after I did? Argh.
Unable to decide, I trailed him, encountering no one. No security officers. Not even a mugger. After about an hour, he cut down a narrow, dank, foul-smelling alley. Ari’s shoulders would never have fit.
He stopped at the halfway point and raised a fist as if to knock on a door.
If he disappeared inside, I might never see Reema again. I yelled, “Hey.” Then rushed him.
The kidnapper turned his head and reached for his sword. But I collided with him before he could draw it. We slammed into the ground, landing with me on top and him facing the wall. The sack was wedged behind him.
I pressed my knife to his throat. “Release the girl. Now.”
He let go and held both his hands up. “Take it,” he said.
“Reema, are you all right? It’s me.” I pulled open the top, peered inside and stopped as my heart lurched.
The man laughed. “Followed me all this way for a fifty-pound bag of potatoes.”
“Where—”
The door swung open. Bright light spilled into the alley, blinding me. The kidnapper grabbed my switchblade as shadows converged and multiple hands yanked me to my feet and dragged me inside. The door banged shut.
A familiar male voice said, “Don’t worry. She won’t bite. There’s a null shield around her.”
I won’t bite? My eyes adjusted and I counted five people. The man I followed plus another I didn’t recognize held my arms. Ben Moon stood in front, gloating with two women beside him.
“Hello, Yelena,” Ben said. “So good to see you again.”
Paler than I remembered, he’d also lost weight. His clothes hung on his tall frame and his sunken cheeks made his face appear skeletal. More gray stubble than black covered his scalp—the officers in Wirral must have shaved his head—but intelligence still shone from his brown eyes along with a gleam of...insanity? Cruelty? Evil? Perhaps all three. Not like the knowledge would improve my situation. Nothing would.
“What? No hello back?” Ben smirked.
“Where’s Reema?” I demanded.
“Asleep in her bed. Well, under her bed as we didn’t want to tip you off. But she’s safe and sound.”
“You— Oh.” Her “kidnapping” had been a ruse to get me here. It worked, except... “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m not after her. She’s not the one who is responsible for my brother’s execution. She’s not the one who sent me to Wirral,” Ben said.
“Owen is liable for his own execution. He knew the consequences of getting caught in Ixia. And you—”
“Shut up. No one deserves to be in that horrid place. And I’m not going back. You didn’t do me any favors by letting me live.” A crazed expression flitted over his face before an icy calm replaced it.
“I can rectify that right now.” I glanced around. “Where’s my switchblade?”
“Are you sure you’ve got a shield on her?” the man on my right asked. “She’s not scared.”
Now I was. His comment terrified me. If Ben had a null shield around me, that meant he didn’t know about my lack of magical powers. The assurance that I wouldn’t bite now made sense, yet I wasn’t any closer to an answer. If he didn’t send the assassin, who did?
“I’m not going to play around anymore,” Ben said. He drew a long dagger. “Hold her still.”
Years of self-defense training kicked in and I broke their hold on me, ducked out of reach and ran about two paces before being tackled to the ground. I landed hard and twisted. But the others were on me, trapping my arms and sitting on my legs.
Ben knelt next to me. He raised his knife.
“Ben, stop,” a deep male voice ordered from the other side of the room.
“The Boss,” the man pressing down on my shoulders said. Fear laced his voice.
Instead of listening, Ben pressed his lips together and brought his arm down. I braced for the explosion of pain, but the blade halted mere inches from my stomach. Ben grunted with effort and his muscles trembled. However, he didn’t move.
A hooded figure loomed behind him. “What part of ‘stop’ don’t you understand?”
“She deserves to die.” Ben forced the words out as if his vocal cords were pinched tight.
Perhaps they were. No doubt magic was involved in preventing Ben’s knife from plunging into my body. A good thing, but the Boss’s arrival might just delay the inevitable.