Assassin's Honor (45 page)

           
"Give me the notebook, Emma, and I'll see to it that these men won't hurt your friend." At Granby's statement, the Praetorian called Andrew released a low sound of fury.

           
"You don't command us, heretic."

           
"No, but I doubt you'd like to explain to the Monsignor why my orders weren't followed." Granby's voice was sharp as he glared at the fighter before turning back to Emma. "As I was saying, give me the notebook and the two of you can go free."

           
"I'm not giving you anything, you murderer," Emma spat out.

           
"I'm not a murderer," the man protested with a snort. "I'm an independent contractor. Your friend has similar agreements with people outside his own faction. I don't give a rat's ass
who
does what as long as I get paid. And I won't get paid if I don't bring home that notebook. Now give it to me."

           
"Go to hell," Emma snapped. "You're not getting anything except jail time."

           
"Not likely, sweetheart. And if you know what's good for you, you'll turn over the goddamn notebook now or I'll let these two bastards loose on you and your friend."

           
"I said you don't command us, heretic," the Praetorian called Andrew snarled. With a vicious movement, he swung his sword and decapitated Granby in one stroke.

           
Training told Ares not to look in Emma's direction. But concern for her overrode everything he'd been taught, and he looked over his shoulder. Her skin was pale as moonlight, her features frozen with shocked horror. Fear slashed through him as he watched her sink to her knees in shock.

           
"Christus, Emma. Get up.
Now.
Out the window."

           
The whisper of an object near his head made him instinctively duck to miss the blade flying toward his head. The Praetorian's sword sliced the air above his head in a hard whoosh. The bastard had a vicious swing. A second later, a large fist slammed into the side of his head. It sent him reeling backward several steps before he was able to recover his balance.

           
Dolcis Mater Dei.
No wonder the son of a bitch had a vicious swing. The asshole had a fist like a sledgehammer. He shook his head slightly, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the smaller Praetorian step toward Emma. The distraction almost cost him his life as he barely managed to keep the other Praetorian's weapon from splitting him open from shoulder to groin.

           
With a jerk of his head, Ares mentally forced the Praetorian's sword arm to miss its mark, while the tip of his Condottiere scraped across the man's stomach. The man roared with anger as Ares wheeled away from the fighter called Andrew to deliberately put himself in the path of the smaller Praetorian.

           
In a smoothly executed move, his sword flew upward to meet the downward swing of his smaller opponent before he twisted his body and his weapon arced downward to meet the blade of the larger Praetorian. Moonlight made the three swords flash with light as Ares blocked and attacked one blow after the other. He fought to keep his thoughts clear, but as his sword repelled the smallest Praetorian, he glanced toward Emma. Crouched near the window, she was watching the fight as if in a daze.
If he could only get her to jump out the window.
She had a better chance of survival outside. He'd barely looked at her, but Andrew laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound.

           
"It seems we've found his weakness, Antonio," he said in a cruel voice. "I'll deal with him, little brother. You take care of the bitch."

           
Merda, he'd shown them how important Emma was to him. He squashed the fear springing to life inside him and anything else that might distract him. He had one purpose and one purpose only. Destroy his enemy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blade falling toward him. He leaped backward, but not quickly enough. The Praetorian's blade made a nice gash across his forearm.

           
"Fotte."

           
"That's the first of many to come, Unmentionable."

           
Ares narrowed his focus and dismissed the pain radiating up his arm. Whipping his body around in a half circle, he swung his Condottiere in a smooth, vicious arc. A second later, the blade sliced deep into the upper arm of the Praetorian called Antonio before it continued its circular path and met the downward swing of the larger fighter. The roar of pain from Antonio made Ares smile grimly as he traded blows with the giant brute called Andrew. His opponent snarled with anger.

           
A second later, a fist jammed its way into Ares's side and pushed the air from his lungs. He went down on one knee, and through a blur of pain, he heard the sword flying downward toward the back of his head. Antonio was back in play. Despite his sluggish speed, he managed to throw his sword over his shoulder and block the blade from severing his neck from his body.

           
He ignored the pain in his side and rolled quickly away from Antonio and toward the bigger Praetorian. In a fluid move, he sprang to his feet and hooked his leg behind the larger fighter's ankles in an attempt to sweep the man's feet out from underneath him. It was a wasted effort. The man simply staggered backward. The move would have put almost anyone else on his back. But this Praetorian was the biggest one he'd ever fought.

           
"You will die, Unmentionable."

           
The Praetorian's voice was gleeful as he flipped the blade in his hand so he could drag it across Ares's chest. The sting of the blade was little more than a scratch, but the Praetorian had drawn blood for a second time. Damno, he was getting tired of someone trying to slice him open. He grimaced and jammed the hilt of his sword into the Praetorian's cheek as he whipped his body around the man's side so he was back-to-back with the fighter.

           
"Not this time, bastardo," he muttered, intent on fighting both men at the same time so he could keep them away from Emma and
end
this thing as quickly as possible.

           
In front of him, Antonio leaped forward, his sword whistling through the air as he swung it toward Ares's head. His back still against the Praetorian called
Andrew,
Ares applied the entire weight of his body hard against the man. Andrew pushed back with a snarl, before uttering a cry of surprised rage.

           
"Antonio, stop."

           
In that split second, Ares ducked and rolled beneath the Praetorian blade swinging toward his head and landed on his haunches two feet away. He was on his feet in seconds. Satisfaction swept through him as the larger Praetorian, without the resistance of Ares's body, staggered backward into the swing of the other Praetorian. The smaller fighter's sword cut deep into the other fighter's back.

           
"Lei stupido inganna," the brute Praetorian cried out as he whirled around to cuff Antonio on the side of his head. "I can take care of myself, little brother. Go after the whore like I told you to."

           
Off to his left, Ares heard Emma draw in a sharp breath as the two Praetorians split ranks. Ares didn't look at her. Instead, he visualized butting his head into Antonio's face. The man immediately uttered a cry of pain and stumbled in his movement toward Emma, his hand clutching his nose as blood gushed from it. The first Praetorian growled with fury, his sword flying out in a wide arc and heading straight for Ares's neck.

           
Ares slammed the steel of his sword against the oncoming blade. Sparks flew as the blades scraped against each other in a grueling screech until the two weapons were locked at the hilt. For the first time, Ares got a good look at his opponent's eyes, and the dark hatred boiling in the man's gaze said this fight was now personal. It would make the man harder to defeat.

           
"I see you understand me, Unmentionable."

           
"I'm not here to talk, Praetorian. You came here looking for a fight and now you've got one."

           
With the last of his reserves, Ares sent the man flying backward across the room. As the Praetorian flew across the room and slammed into the wall, he saw the one called Antonio out of the corner of his eye stumble forward. Ares moved on instinct and training alone as his sword flew up to meet the Praetorian's descending blade and block its descent.

           
The Condottiere knocked the weapon aside with a violent thrust. In a flash of speed, he brought his sword out in front of him in a wide arc as he went down on one knee. With a quick flick of his wrist, he swiveled his weapon so the tip of the blade was directed at the man behind him. The Condottiere passed swiftly under his arm as he drove the sword deep into the man's thigh.

           
It was a crippling blow, but as the fighter went down on one knee, he brought his sword up again in an attempt to slice into Ares's sword arm. The move wasn't unexpected, and Ares stopped the blow with an ironclad grip on Antonio's wrist. He bent his opponent's hand backward until it snapped. The man screamed in pain.

           
Eager to be done with it all, he tugged his blade out of the Praetorian's leg, aware that the other Praetorian was finally staggering to his feet. Ares straightened and looked down at the man half-prostrate on the floor.

           
"You fought well, Praetorian, but I must now ask your forgiveness," Ares said quietly as he stared into the eyes of the man he was about to kill. "Do you give it?"

           
"Don't, Antonio." From across the room, the other Praetorian howled a protest.

           
With an imperceptible nod of his head, Antonio grunted and closed his eyes. Ares inhaled a deep breath and executed the man in one swift stroke. The Praetorian was dead before he even hit the floor. His brother, Andrew, roared with pain and anger.

           
Emma screamed and Ares whirled around, prepared to match swords with his last opponent. To his horror, he saw the Praetorian heading toward Emma. Before Ares could take more than two steps, the Praetorian was on top of her.

           
She tried to roll out of the fighter's range, but she wasn't fast enough and the man's sword pierced her side. Her scream of pain chilled Ares's blood until it froze his limbs. Care Deus, not Emma. Crumpled up at the man's feet, Emma pressed her hand into her side, blood squeezing its way through her fingers. A silent scream of terror parted her mouth as she stared up at the man above her, and Ares lunged forward as the Praetorian, a cruel smile on his face, raised his blade.

           
"For my brother, Unmentionable."
With blazing speed, the man brought his sword downward with deadly intent.

           
The sword never reached her. An invisible force wrenched the weapon out of the Praetorian's hands and flipped it in the air until the point was aimed directly at the fighter's heart. His mouth agape in amazement, the Praetorian simply stood there as the sword plunged its way into his body.

           
For a brief second, Ares thought Phae or Lysander had entered the room, but his gut told him differently.
Dulcis Mater Dei.
The blood bond.
He'd told her something traumatic could trigger
an ability
. But he'd never thought her instinct for self-preservation would be the catalyst.

           
Ares reached Emma just as the Praetorian sank to his knees. With a violent shove, he pushed the man's body away from Emma then knelt at her side. Her moans nearly undid him as he fumbled for the flashlight in his pocket.

           
"Emma, inamorato, I need to look at your wound."

           
Gently, he pried her fingers from her side. She protested with a sob of agony that sent remorse ripping through him for having hurt her. The sight of the gash near her waist knocked the wind out of him as if he'd suffered the same terrible blow. Blood oozed from the wound at a slow pace, and he immediately checked her pulse. It was racing.

           
His stomach lurched with dread. Adrenaline could make a heart race, but it could also mean her heart was attempting to accommodate a drop in blood pressure. His gaze shifted back to her wound. The bastard's sword had probably hit an organ. He looked at her face. Her features were taut with pain and her breaths were more moans than intakes of air.

           
In the moonlight, her features were deathly pale, and her entire body shuddered as her eyes flew open to stare up at him. The shock, horror, and revulsion in her gaze only increased his agony. Her hand reached out to him as her eyes slid shut and her trembling grew more violent. A second later, his heart stopped as the tremors passed, and with a soft sigh, she went limp.
Christus.

           
"Emma," he cried out in a guttural tone.