Demonbane (Book 4) (23 page)

She stepped back, and let the blade slice just inches past her breast. She spun in, then threw her shoulders backwards.

She lashed her legs up, catching them around Olan’s neck in a chokehold. Using the momentum of her fall, Nadine twisted her legs and brought the Ghostwalker down hard to the ground.

He gasped, and tried to cut at her with the sword.

She pushed in closer and tightened the leg lock. It would be so easy to break the man’s neck while he was pinned.

Despite the fun she was having, she needed to wrap this up. The theater was already deserted, and a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the smashed scenery was nearly all ablaze by now. A pall of black smoke drifted out over the empty seats of the theater.

Olan struggled, waving his sword ineffectually. He was strong, no doubt about that, but it needed more than brute strength to break out of the pin that Nadine had him in.

Oh, well. There were worse ways for a man to die then trapped between the legs of a woman.

Nadine squeezed her legs.

Olan choked.

There was a soft
thunk
and a rolling sound from behind her.

Nadine turned her head.

A metal grenade, the fuse lit and sputtering, rolled towards her.

Tomas and Callen raced for the stairs.

They crashed into a group of aristocrats who were arguing and shouting amongst themselves on the steps.

Tomas snarled and shoved two of the nobles out of his way. “Move!”

Callen came up behind him.

Tomas tried to push himself into the mass of people that blocked the stairs, but the press of bodies was too great for him to get through. He glanced down at Bronwyn and Mina.

The two women were moving through the crowd. They were almost at the doors. People seemed to inexplicably melt away from them to either side, creating a clear path for them.

Tomas scowled, then ran back for the top of the stairs.

“They’re getting away!” Callen shouted.

Tomas ignored him. Over the railing? No good. The floor was too far below, and there was still too many people down there. The back stairs? Possible, but it would take too long. They’d never catch the two women before they exited.

Tomas turned back to the stairs. He reached for the dagger at his belt. It was the front stairs or nothing.

Even if he had to cut his way down.

“Out of the way!” he bellowed.

Surprised, several faces looked up at him. They were filled with confusion and fear.

Tomas lifted his dagger and tried to look as menacing as he could. “
Out of the way
!” he repeated.

One of the women screamed. The others melted back, though the staircase was so crowded there wasn’t much room to spare.

Tomas took a step forward.

From the opera hall there came the sound of a sudden, violent explosion.

Nadine flipped off Olan. She swept over to the sputtering grenade and gave it a hard kick with the side of her foot.

The metal sphere sailed out into the rows of abandoned seats beyond the stage.

Still gasping for breath, Olan rolled over onto his back and climbed to his feet. He lifted his sword again, rubbing his reddened throat.

The grenade went off.

There was a deafening
bang
, followed by a cloud of smoke that plumed up out of the seats below. Pieces of cushion and wood hurtled through the air.

Kendril emerged from the black smoke that swirled around the burning set. A pistol in his hand pointed straight at Nadine.

The assassin backflipped instantly, springing right behind the still-dazed Olan. She pushed up behind him in one swift move, thrusting a long knife against the Ghostwalker’s neck.

Kendril kept his gun pointed at her head.

Olan froze. He dropped his sword. The razor-sharp edge of Nadine’s poisoned blade rested right underneath his adam’s apple.

“This seems familiar,” Nadine crooned from over her hostage’s shoulder.

“There’s no way out of here.” Kendril stepped closer. His black cloak was smoldering in places, and his face was smeared with soot.

Nadine gave Kendril a chiding glance. “I’ll kill him.”

“I don’t care.”

“Shoot her,” Olan choked out.

“Shush,” Nadine whispered into his ear. “Let the adults talk.” She looked back at Kendril. “You’ve already lost, Kendril. It’s over.”

Kendril stepped to the side. His gun never wavered. “Doesn’t look that way from here.”

“Then you’re not looking hard enough.” Nadine stepped to the side as well, dragging Olan with her.

“
Shoot her
,” Olan repeated.

Kendril’s face was hard. “We stopped the ritual.”

Nadine tilted her head slightly. “Did you? Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”

“I’m ordering you to
shoot
,” Olan said between gasps.

Kendril flashed the other Ghostwalker an irritated look. “I told you before, I’m not following your orders.”

Nadine gave a cruel little smile. “You Ghostwalkers really are a sorry lot, aren’t you? Just like quarrelsome little children. And here I had been expecting so much.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Kendril’s eyes darted back and forth for a moment. “Throw down your knife and I won’t kill you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No. But it seemed like the sporting thing to say.”

“Nonsense.” Nadine nodded over her shoulder. “You’re just trying to stall me for a few seconds so that your friend can get behind me.”

Kendril stopped cold.

Nadine glanced back over her shoulder.

Joseph came out from behind one of the burning curtains, his rapier drawn and ready.

“Let’s see,” said Nadine philosophically, “how many Ghostwalkers does it take to kill one assassin?”

“Why don’t you get rid of your hostage and we’ll find out?” Kendril said with a nasty grin.

“We don’t want to hurt you, ma’am,” Joseph said. “You’re outnumbered, and surrounded. Best throw your weapons down now.”

Nadine looked back over at Kendril. “Is he serious? And didn’t I kill him already?”

Olan stared hard at Kendril. “
Shoot her now
.”

Nadine narrowed her eyes. “
Please
. If Kendril was going to shoot me he would have done it by now.”

“You’re right.” Kendril lifted his pistol, then turned and headed for the edge of the stage. “I’m through playing games with you, Nadine.”

Joseph and Olan both gaped at Kendril’s departing figure.

Nadine brought the knife a hair’s breadth closer to Olan’s neck.

The Ghostwalker commander tensed, his face pale.

“Kendril!” Joseph called after his friend. His rapier drooped.

“I’ll
kill
him,” Nadine called.

Kendril sprinted down the stairs at the side of the stage. “I told you, I don’t care,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “You’re stalling us, Nadine. All so Bronwyn can get away with the Soulbinder. Well I’m through playing.” He turned and began running up the aisle of the opera house.

Fury crossed the assassin’s masked face.

Joseph took a step forward.

“Kendril!” Olan croaked. “
Kendril!”

Nadine kicked him to one side, then ran for the edge of the stage.

Olan collapsed into a heap on the wooden floor.

Joseph reached down with his free hand for the throwing knife that was sheathed in the top of his boot.

Nadine reached the end of the platform.

She jumped.

Tomas had lost sight of Bronwyn and Lady Dutraad. Even though the swirl and press of people in the foyer was thinning as more and more made it outside, here at ground level it was difficult to pick out individuals amongst the crowd.

And the explosion in the opera house, what had that been? There was no way to know, but the real battle was going on back in there.

Out here in the foyer Tomas and Callen were stuck playing a very unsuccessful game of crowd control.

“Do you see them?” Tomas yelled back over the roaring tumult of the exiting nobles.

Callen glanced wildly back and forth. “No!”

Tomas felt his stomach drop. Had the two cultists made it outside already? In the mass of people, it was almost impossible to tell.

But they had the Soulbinder. Tomas had seen it himself with his own eyes.

He had to do something, and fast.

Tomas grabbed Callen by his cloak, and pulled the other Ghostwalker bodily towards the large front doors of the theater.

Nadine was coming right at him.

Kendril whirled around. He shoved the pistol back into his belt and reached for his swords.

The firearm was still unloaded. Between the set collapsing on top of his head and the fire that had almost burned him up he hadn’t had any time to reload it. Truthfully, it had been a miracle that none of his bullet cartridges had exploded in the spreading heat and flames of the fire that was now quickly devouring the entire stage.

Nadine snapped forward an arm as she ran.

There was a flash of shining metal in the air. Throwing blades.

Kendril had been expecting that. Fighting this crazed woman was starting to become like a predictable dance.

He dodged back and to the left, then grabbed the edge of his cloak and whipped it around in front of him as a makeshift shield.

One blade stuck into a nearby cushioned seat. Another cut into his cloak and hung fast.

Kendril gave his cloak a shake. The blade flew loose.

Flames leapt high on the stage. The main opera hall was fast filling with a choking black smoke.

Nadine leapt straight at Kendril, her blades glimmering with dark intent. The smoke parted around her like wraiths shifting from her path.

He met her half-way.

Their blades flickered, crossed and parried.

She swept to his side and lashed out another attack.

He blocked it, then stabbed forward.

She dodged.

Not blocked, not parried, but actually
dodged
the blasted sword. How in Eru’s name could anyone be that fast?

Kendril didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He was losing his patience and temper quickly. Nadine was deliberately delaying them, buying time for Bronwyn and Lady Dutraad to escape.

It was time for it to stop.

She leapt around the edge of a seat, planted a foot on the back of it and jumped into the middle of the aisle behind Kendril.

He spun around, and slashed out viciously with both his swords.

The assassin cartwheeled back and away from the scything blades.

Kendril stumbled forward a step, off balance for a half-second.

Nadine saw her chance and jumped in.

Snarling, Kendril flicked his own blade up to meet hers.

The two weapons clanged and locked together at the hilts. The two combatants stood there for a moment, panting and face-to-face.

“Want to give up?” Kendril gasped.

“Please,” Nadine smiled in return. “I could kill you any time I want.”

“Let’s see,” said Kendril. He pushed the blades off to one side and slammed his whole body into her.

Surprised by the move, Nadine careened back several steps.

For a long second they were both off-balance, stumbling and tripping.

In the confusion Kendril grabbed the white half-mask she wore on her face.

He tore it off.

“What the devil is going on?” Lieutenant Gradine pushed through the crowd of panicked people, his boots sinking into the churned slush by the side of the street.

A gendarme saluted. “Not sure, sir. Looks like fire.” He pointed up to the front doors of the opera house. Wisps of black smoke were already beginning to curl out into the cold night air. “People are shouting and screaming about a fight inside. Two people in black cloaks, sir.”

Gradine swore under his breath. “Bloody Ghostwalkers.” He looked up the steep steps of the opera house.

There was crazed confusion there. People were running, screaming. Coaches were jammed on the street, trying to collect the refugees. A thousand frightened people, all trying to escape from the same building at the same moment. It was a recipe for disaster if ever there was one.

Gradine pushed a flailing woman out of his way, and grabbed the gendarme by the shoulder. He shouted to be heard over the tumult all around them. “How many men do you have?”

“Half a dozen, sir.” The gendarme glanced back up at the doors. “We’ll need more for the fire.”

“We’ll need more just to stop these people from killing themselves,” Gradine growled. He clapped the gendarme hard on the arm. “Try to get some kind of order going here. Get those Void-cursed coaches out of here, and get everyone across the street.” He stepped aside as a shouting man raced close by. “Start a bucket brigade with any able-bodied men you can find, and
fast
.”

The gendarme saluted. “Yes, sir, but how—?”

The question was lost in a sudden quieting of the crowd.

Gradine and the gendarme stared up the steps of the opera house, surprised at the sudden stillness.

Two figures, both wearing long dark robes with hoods cast over their faces stepped out onto the top of the opera house steps.

The crowd shrank away from them, as if instinctually afraid to get too close.

Gradine lowered his eyebrows, his carbine half-raised. “What is this all about, then? Those the Ghostwalkers?”

The gendarme cocked his head. “I…don’t know.” He turned his head back down the street. “Sir!”

Gradine followed his gaze.

A line of about horsemen, wearing the tall bearskin hats of the gendarmes, were coming at a quick trot up the middle of the street.

“Well,” said Gradine as he tugged at the rim of his own hat, “looks like either way we just got some reinforcements.”

Nadine screamed.

She wilted back, her hands over her face.

Kendril dropped into a defensive position, prepared for anything.

Nadine slowly took her hands away. She turned her head, and glared venomously at Kendril.

The Ghostwalker raised his head.

“Great Eru,” Joseph whispered. He had come up just behind Kendril.