Sanctum (Guards of the Shadowlands, Book 1) (12 page)

I barely got the staff up and in front of me before Doris was on me, blade high, teeth bared.

Eyes widening.

Mouth slackening.

Doris fell to the ground, three knives embedded deep in her back.

Malachi’s defense of me cost him. The scimitar flew from his grasp. He threw a hand up and caught Juri’s sword arm, and then they were struggling for the weapon. They fell into the mouth of the alleyway just as a hand closed around my ankle. I raised the staff like a spear and jabbed downward—and kept jabbing—until Doris’s hand fell away.

“Now I understand why he cuts your throats,” I muttered.

The alley echoed with Malachi’s and Juri’s efforts to destroy each other, and Sil and the unknown girl were still at it, neither of them looking tired.

And then Malachi roared in pain.

I gripped the staff and scrambled toward the alley, my other hand pressed across my hip. Juri’s back was to me. He had won the battle for the scimitar, but Malachi’s last knife was sticking out of the back of his shoulder. Malachi was unarmed now, sheaths empty. And I held his staff in my hands. A chill raced through me as I read the pain in his eyes. Blood ringed his collar and covered his neck.

Then he saw me. His lips curled into a defiant smile. “Lela, hit him hard. Doesn’t matter where.”

Juri obviously thought Malachi was bluffing and didn’t turn around. He laughed and said something to Malachi in a language that might have been Russian. Malachi’s eyes flashed as he spat a retort in the same language. Juri growled and advanced on him. I guess Malachi was quite an effective trash talker.

I raised the staff. “This is for earlier, you pervert.”

As soon as he heard my voice, Juri spun around with the scimitar leading the way. I cracked the staff down on his wrist. He dropped the blade but barreled into me, sending me crashing to the ground. My head hit the pavement, and when the stars cleared from my vision, Juri was lying next to me. Malachi was perched on his back, knees pinning the perv’s muscular arms to the ground, calling my name. I squinted, trying to bring his face into focus.

“I’m all right,” I mumbled, noticing the frantic edge in his voice. He stared at me for a few seconds, like he was deciding whether or not he believed me. Then he jerked the knife from Juri’s back and grabbed a handful of the man’s greasy hair, yanking his head up in this terrifying, I’m-going-to-destroy-you-now kind of way.

Juri didn’t seem intimidated at all. He looked me right in the eye. “You. Are.
Mine
,” he growled, then grunted with pain as Malachi slammed his forehead against the pavement.

I scooted back instinctively, needing to get as far as possible from both of them.

Malachi’s eyes shifted back to mine, and indecision crossed his face. “Lela, would you please go see how Ana’s doing?”

Something in his voice begged me not to argue, so I rolled painfully to my side and staggered toward the street. The girl, who I assumed was Ana, seemed to be holding her own. As I turned to tell Malachi so, he appeared behind me, blocking my view of Juri. He put his hands on my shoulders and steered me out of the alley. He turned toward the sword battle in the street and took a single step forward. As if he’d felt Malachi’s eyes on him, Sil abruptly broke away from Ana and took off running.

Ana was after Sil like a shot, turning her head only to shout, “I’ve got this, Malachi!”

“Who’s that?”

“A colleague,” replied Malachi, watching her sprint around a corner. For a moment I thought he would go after them, but he turned back to me instead. His lips were pressed in a tight line. I couldn’t read what lay in his eyes as he looked me over. Once again I was frozen in place, half of me wanting to run toward him, half wanting to run away. Saving me the trouble of making a decision, he closed the distance between us and knelt in front of me.

“How bad?” He gripped my waist and lifted my shirt, gently peeling back my pants from my hip. To my surprise, I didn’t flinch away. I put my hands on his shoulders and looked up at the sky, wondering if he would catch me if I fell.

“I don’t think it’s bad,” I tried to assure him at the same moment he saw the wound and cursed loudly.

“Did any of them bite you?” His hands roamed over my arms and legs, searching for other injuries.

“No.” I looked down and noticed that Juri’s blood was smeared across my shirt. And Malachi’s hands were covered in it. “Shouldn’t we be washing their blood off us? Won’t it make us sick?”

He returned his attention to my hip. “Is a snake’s blood venomous?”

“What?”

“Mazikin blood isn’t the problem, Lela. It’s harmless, like a snake’s. But their mouths, their saliva…”

I glanced down at him and saw, for the first time, the source of the blood on his collar. He hadn’t been as lucky as I had. The wound was ragged and deep. Blood oozed from it steadily, and a white crystalline substance crusted around the edges.

“Oh my God. He bit you,” I whispered, reaching to turn his head so I could see it better.

He pulled my hand away and stood up quickly. “Sit down, unless it feels better to stand. I need to finish this, but then we’ve got to get going.”

“But we’re so far—Don’t you have, like, walkie-talkies or something? Can’t you call for someone to come get you?”

His brow crinkled. “A walkie…you mean a telephone?” He shrugged. “We don’t have telephones here.”

“Why—”

He winced and closed his eyes. “Maybe we can talk about this more later, but we have to go. Now.”

I turned my head away as Malachi made sure Doris and Lacey would not get up. But as his whispered chant carried across the street, I turned to watch him, mesmerized, as he bent over their bodies, eyes closed, maybe apologizing, maybe praying. I’d never been so confused by anyone. One moment he was ruthless and merciless, and the next he was staring at his victims with sorrow in his eyes. One moment he was locking me up with an amused smile on his face, and a few hours later
he was risking his life to save me. I knew how to read most people, what to expect from them. With Malachi…not so much.

When he was finished, he collected his weapons, wiping the blood on his pants before sheathing each knife. He collapsed his staff and snapped the baton to his waist. He walked into the alleyway and came back out with his scimitar and Juri’s. With practiced movements he attached Juri’s sheath to his own belt, and then approached me again.

“Can you walk?”

I pasted on a big, cheesy smile. “Of course. It’s just a cut.”

He laughed, his face transforming for a moment into that whimsical expression I’d seen earlier. “Can you run?”

“Probably,” I said, eyeing him. “Can you?”

His face became serious as he met my eyes. “For now I can.”

My heart clutched a little at his honesty. “Where are we going? How far?”

“We need to get back to the Station. I don’t know how much time I have, and we both need to see Raphael.”

Back to the Station. No freaking way. I shuffled backward. “I’m not sure I want to—”

He gave me a thoroughly exasperated look. “I swear I will carry you if I have to, and that would be unpleasant for both of us. Your hip is laid open to the bone, and I…I’ll be dead in a few hours if we don’t get back to the Station now. And I’m not going without you. So please cooperate, just this once.”

Considering he’d rescued me from a chillingly unknown fate at the hands of the creepiest bunch of people I’d ever met, I decided not to argue. Especially because, despite my earlier vows to the contrary, I absolutely did not want him to die. Judging by what he’d said about his injury, I might be able to escape from him without actually having to go
into
the Station. But I wanted to help him get to safety first. “Lead the way.”

“Thank you.”

Malachi set a blistering, painful pace, and I forced myself to ignore the throbbing sting of my wound as I ran behind him through the alleys and streets of the city. Once again I tried to spot landmarks, identifying features…and once again I was totally lost. After what seemed like an hour, Malachi’s long, steady strides faltered. He slumped down on a stoop in front of a dark building with shattered windows.

“I need to rest,” he mumbled, “just for a minute.”

“Sure,” I huffed as I sat down next to him, “whatever you need.”

I hadn’t been sure I could keep up for much longer. He’d been running in front of me, so this was the first opportunity I had to look at him since we’d started our return journey. I didn’t like what I saw. His olive skin was sickly pale, stark against his black hair. He was shivering.

“How are you doing?” His teeth chattered as he spoke.

“Better than you are, I think.” I raised a tentative hand to his face. He didn’t react as my fingers brushed his cheek. It felt like I was afraid it would: clammy and cold. He was in bad shape, and I had no idea how far we were from the Station. I wouldn’t be able to get him back there if he collapsed.

“Is Raphael a doctor?”

He nodded. “Sort of. He’ll heal you. It won’t be hard for him.”

“And you?” He needed it more than I did.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “At this point I don’t know.”

That was not what I wanted to hear. I stood up. “Let’s go. Now.”

He didn’t move. “I need to rest. Just for a minute,” he repeated.

“No way. You’ve rested enough. Up. Get up.” I took his hand and pulled. He allowed me to guide him to his feet. I slipped beneath his arm and put mine around his waist. “You’re going to have to help me or we won’t get there. Come on.
Now
.” He leaned on me and let me lead him forward. “Tell me which way.”

Much slower now, we trudged along a main road. Malachi mumbled a steady stream of instructions but got quieter as we proceeded. He started to have trouble lifting his feet.

“Numb,” he whispered, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the top of my mine. We stood there for a second, and I realized this was as close as I’d ever willingly gotten to a guy. Malachi seemed perfectly content to stand there, half embracing,
half leaning, but it was obvious to me he wouldn’t be able to remain upright for long.

“How far are we from the Station?”

“Not far. But I don’t think I can make it.”

We were right in front of an apartment building, and it gave me an idea. I might be strong, but I wasn’t strong enough to carry Malachi, who felt like two hundred pounds of solid muscle. “Listen to me. I’m going to leave you here, and you’re going to tell me how to get to the Station. Can you do that?”

“No. You stay with me.” He was obviously trying to sound commanding, but his voice was weak and filled with pain. It kind of ruined the effect.

“Sorry, but that’s not going to happen. I’ll be faster without you, so stop arguing. Are there empty units in this building?”

“In every building,” he breathed, giving up.

“All right, let’s go find one.” I practically had to drag him through the doors. He tried to help, but his feet kept getting away from him. His arms were limp around me, as if they were now numb as well.

The hallway was dimly lit by those omnipresent gas lanterns, but there was enough light to allow me to step around the huge, furry spots of mold growing on the carpet. It was dead quiet, and if it hadn’t been for the strips of greenish light shining from beneath the doors of every apartment, I’d have been sure the building was abandoned. It took forever, but I got him down the hallway and through the first open door we came to.

I was filled with relief to see that the apartment’s threadbare carpet was free of mold, and the walls were just a dull tan—no streaks of mildew. Paired with the laminate wood furniture and cracked countertops, it felt a lot like some of the housing projects I’d lived in. But there was one major difference. “Hey, there’s no lock on this door. Should I push some furniture in front of it or something?”

Malachi shook his head. “No one can come in now that we’re here,” he said hoarsely.

“Why, because you’re a Guard?”

He shook his head again. Such a small movement, but it looked like it exhausted him. “Once an apartment is occupied, no one else can enter.”

I nearly fell to the floor with relief. We were safe. But more importantly—Nadia was. She got into that apartment, and apparently whoever had been behind her couldn’t follow her in. I hoped she’d stayed there.

I maneuvered Malachi through a door, into a bedroom that contained a single narrow cot. “Down, boy,” I said as I lowered him carefully onto it. My hip was screaming, and the rest of me wasn’t far behind. He was incredibly heavy. I couldn’t rest, though. Not if I was going to help him survive.

His hand flopped onto his chest over one of the buckles. “I can’t breathe.”

“Right,” I said, newly determined. “Let’s get you comfortable, and then I’m going to go.”

“No,” he groaned, but I ignored him and went to work. I pushed his hands away and unfastened each buckle on his breastplate, awkwardly pulling it off him, trying not to brush his neck. When I failed, he made a sound so wrenching that I cried out with him.

I finished removing the breastplate and moved to his belt. “Don’t,” he begged as his arms twitched helplessly at his sides. Again I ignored him. I stayed focused on what I needed to do. If I hadn’t, I think I might have collapsed on the grimy carpet in a useless puddle of panic and despair and guilt. He was hurt because of
me
. He might die because of
me
.

“You can’t use your arms. These are not going to do you any good right now.” I tugged his belt from his waist and set it next to the cot. I placed my palm on his chest and felt the shallowness of his breath. Blood saturated the front of his shirt. I had no idea he’d been bleeding so badly. “You have to tell me how to get to the Station.”

“I thought I might not get to you in time,” he said. “I’m so sorry you got hurt. I should have been faster.”

I couldn’t believe he was trying to apologize to me, especially because, by all rights, he should want to kill me. The gentleness and sorrow in his voice told me he thought these might be the last words he said to me. It got to me. “You are wasting breath and wasting my time,” I said harshly. “Now give me directions or I will kill you myself.”