Assassin's Heart (18 page)

Les stared at me. “That's it?” He shrugged, mocking me. “You can just shrug it off?”

“What do you want me to say?” I snapped. “That I understand everything about Safraella and how She works? Or that I have some sort of magical clipper magic and you will too, as soon as we somehow get you a mask?”

He tightened his lips. I'd hit a tender spot. He
had
thought one of those things.

“I don't understand how you can do something so amazing,” he said, “like stopping an angry ghost, and just shrug as if it's no big deal. As if you're not worried about it, or fanatically curious. You did something amazing, miraculous, and you treat it as an irritant at best.”

“Because I don't have time to figure it out! I don't have all the answers, Les. In case you haven't noticed, I'm barely
getting by. I just need to focus on doing what I came here to do.”

“Killing yourself, you mean.”

“What?”

“That's what you came here to do, right? Find the means to kill yourself at the hands of the Da Vias?”

He was ridiculous. He didn't understand anything. “I don't
want
to die.”

“Don't you?”

He stepped into my personal space. He was so much taller than me, but I stood my ground. I wasn't that easy to intimidate.

“There are other solutions, if you'd only stop and think.”

“I don't have the time!” I yelled. “The Da Vias already know a Saldana survived the fire. If they haven't spoken to the Addamos yet, they will soon, and it will be obvious I came to Rennes. The Da Vias aren't the Addamos. They have more clippers, more money, more resources and power. If they want to find me, they will as soon as they connect all the loose threads I've left trailing behind. I have to get to them before they reach me, otherwise it's all pointless. Otherwise it's all been for nothing and the Da Vias will have won.”

“I'll be with you, though. It won't just be you, alone. That could change the outcome.”

I shook my head. “I came here looking for Marcello not just because he knew how the find the Da Vias but because
he was a Saldana clipper with skills that should at least match my own. And I needed him to help me. Even with my training, Les, you're a half clipper at best.”

Behind us, the sun crept above the roof of the buildings, casting beams of light in the shadows. We'd stayed out too late. We needed to get to our homes.

“No one's going to be ready for this, Lea. Not even you. And damn you for writing me off like that!”

I stepped back at the anger in his voice.

He followed me, leaning over to look in my eyes. “You don't get to roll over people. Just because you have permission to end lives doesn't give you the right to destroy them first.”

He was breathing heavily, staring at me. Was he right? I thought over the path I'd traveled to get here.

The Addamos . . . I'd definitely done some damage there. But they'd brought it on themselves. They were the ones who'd attacked me.

Brother Faraday had said priests weren't allowed to take sides, but he'd bent the truth for me.

Les was wrong. “You don't make any sense. I'm making you a better clipper. How is that a bad thing?”

He closed his eyes. “Do you really not see it,
kalla
Lea? Are you truly that blind?”

I'd been blind to things before, and I'd made terrible mistakes. “Maybe I am blind,” I whispered, “but you don't understand.”

“
I
don't understand? Lea, I think I probably understand better than most.”

“No, you can't. It's my fault.”

“What's your fault?”

“My Family. Their deaths.” I coughed and took a breath. “Val took my key from me. He must have made a copy or something. And because he was a secret,
my
secret, I didn't tell anyone. The Da Vias got inside because of me.”

There. My darkest, heaviest secret bared for his judgment. Now he'd see me for the failure I was.

Les rubbed his neck. “It's not your fault.”

His words hit me like a gust of cold air.

“You didn't kill your family, Lea, the Da Vias did,” he continued. “Lay the blame where it belongs, not at your feet, but at theirs.”

I exhaled slowly. He made it sound so easy. But it
was
my fault. I'd had a hand in the deaths of my Family. When I closed my eyes, all I could see were their faces, and then I couldn't help but imagine their last moments. Had they burned to death, their skin crackling, their lungs filling with black smoke? Or had the Da Vias killed them first, their knives and swords carving into their flesh? Had Emile been scared? Had he cried, fat tears rolling down his face as he called for his papa?

And how could Les just push my failings aside like that? Like it didn't even matter to him.

To our left someone applauded slowly. I yanked my mask down as we turned.

“Bravo. This has been better than a stage play.” It was Captain Lefevre and six other men. “And look, you even have costumes.” He gestured to our leathers and my bone mask. I cursed my damn foolishness. We should've been long gone before the sun had ever risen so high.

I'd played right into his hands, standing in a secluded alley, with no witnesses to whatever he planned.

“LEA, LEA, LEA.” LEFEVRE STEPPED INTO THE ALLEY
with his men behind him. None of them wore uniforms. This was about something else, then, and not the murder investigation.

One of the men was a giant, nearly filling the small alley space. Beside me, Les moved closer.

“I knew there was something off about you,” Lefevre said. “But I didn't expect all this.” He waved a limp hand in our direction.

I dropped my hand to my sword.

Gone.

I closed my eyes. I'd left it on the roof when we were knife throwing.

Les tensed beside me. He realized the same thing. All I had was a single stiletto in my boot.

Sloppy. So sloppy.

Rafeo would be so disappointed in me. I'd let Yvain make
me soft. I'd let Alessio make me soft. Never in my life had I been caught without my weapons, and here I was, in my
leathers,
no less, about to reap the consequences. I deserved it.

“That first night,” Lefevre continued, “when you fled from my officers, I thought I'd never see you again, at least, not like this. I recognized you as a clipper, of course, even without the coin you left on that body. But I was always raised to think highly of clippers. You were supposed to be these terrifying agents of a dark god, so when you escaped us, I thought you were gone for good. And yet here you are, standing in the open for anyone to find. And it turns out you
are
that raggedly dressed girl in the market. I wasn't sure, you know. I thought you were just covering for the clipper, but you have the mask and everything.”

“What do you want, Lefevre?”

“What do I want?” He tapped his chin with a finger. His men chuckled and grinned. They didn't realize what they were getting themselves involved in. They probably saw a girl and a boy having a fight in an alley. They were in for a surprise.

“So, my hunches were correct. There's a bounty on your head, Miss Lea. It turns out the Da Vias in Ravenna lost someone. A Saldana clipper. And they're willing to pay quite a bit for her return. Lea Saldana has a nice ring to it, by the way.”

I raised my hands. “I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know the Da Vias and they won't pay anything for me.”

Lefevre smirked. “You aren't a very good liar, Miss Lea.
Even hidden behind that mask of yours. And anyway, being a lawman doesn't pay very well. If the Da Vias are paying, I could use the boost to my finances. And an end to the serial murderer.”

“I told you that isn't me.”

Lefevre snorted. “Oh please. You can give up the charade now.”

“She's not lying,” Les said beside me. “I'm the murderer you've been looking for. You don't need her.”

What was he doing? Telling the truth wouldn't gain him anything. Unless . . . unless he
wasn't
trying to get anything out of it.

Lefevre rolled his eyes. “You? Really? You don't even have a mask.”

“North quarter, ten days ago. Northeast by the lazy canal, four weeks ago. A woman, six weeks ago by Upsand Downs.”

Lefevre's smirk vanished. “It seems I was mistaken. I can admit when I'm wrong. But I still need the money. You'll just be an extra bonus for my reputation as a lawman.”

His men moved forward.

“I'm giving you a final chance to walk away,” I said. “This won't go the way you want. If you walk away now, everything can be forgotten. Otherwise I'll have to kill you.” I showed him my conviction in my eyes, so he'd understand I could murder him with no more than a flick of my wrist. That his blood across my face would be like the spray of the sea to me, wet and warm and nothing more.

His men paused and glanced to Lefevre. He barked a
laugh, his eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Oh, Lea, you ignorant girl.
I'm
not going to fight you. I'll be leaving you in the capable hands of my men. After all, the sun's up and I have work to do and lawbreakers to catch.” He waved his hand, and his men flowed toward us. “Keep her alive,” he commanded as he turned to walk away. “Kill the other one.”

The men charged as Lefevre whistled and left the alley behind. I barely had a moment to yank my stiletto from my boot before they were on us.

Six against two. If it had been me and Val, we could've handled it. But it was me and Les—unfinished and unarmed—trapped in a cramped space with no quick escape. I had to keep him safe.

Before the first attacker reached me, I twisted my body and shoved Les farther into the alley. He grunted in surprise and I imagined his anger once he realized my plan, but I didn't care. When this was over, I'd rather have him alive and angry than injured or dead. The thought of him dead was like a kick to the stomach.

I blinked. When had that changed?

The first man swung at me with a cudgel. I barely managed to block his swing. The blow vibrated up my arm. Pops in my shoulder told me more of my stitches had snapped. I brought my knee into the man's gut and his breath exploded over me in a whoosh, stinking of liquor and rotting teeth. I shoved him into the man directly behind him. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, tripping up a third man.

Another attacker swiped at me with a knife, aiming for my
face. Dumb. Even if I hadn't managed to dodge his clumsy attempt, my mask would deflect any strokes. I grabbed his arm and pulled it sharply backward. Braced against my left elbow, his joint cracked and snapped. The alley filled with his screams and the sound of his knife clattering to the ground.

Movement over my shoulder. I shifted to the left, blocking Les in the alley, keeping him behind me. His rage-filled eyes shot murder at me from beneath his hood, but I didn't have time for him.

I smashed the heel of my boot into the throat of another attacker. His neck crunched. He collapsed against a wall, hands clawing at his throat as he struggled for breath he would never find.

The first three attackers got to their feet and changed tactics, coming at me together instead of individually. It actually made things easier. They got in one another's way and I ducked and weaved and stabbed, all while blocking Les, keeping him away from the center of the fight. The alley was so cramped, the fewer clippers in the mix, the better. This way I didn't have to dodge Les, too.

Blood dripped off my mask and leathers. Its rich scent filled my mouth and nose as I caught my breath. Four of Lefevre's men lay dead or injured on the ground when the giant finally waded into the fray. He was close to seven feet tall and wide as a cart. Not fat, simply thick with flesh and muscle. The attacker with the fractured arm pressed against the wall as the giant charged, bellowing like an enraged bull.

I stepped back, trying to give myself space, but I bumped against someone.

“Les!” I screamed, pushing against him.

The giant leaned over and rammed his shoulder into me, connecting sharply against my breastbone. If I hadn't been wearing my leathers, padded to protect me, the bone would have cracked.

He launched me into the air. I flew into Les and we crashed into the wall, Les's body shielding mine from the stone building. I heard, rather than saw, his head strike the wall. The loud crack bounced around the alley.

We collapsed to the ground.

“Les!” I grabbed his leathers. He didn't respond, either unconscious or . . .

No! Don't think it, Lea!

The giant grabbed my shoulders. He yanked me from Les, tossing me like a log onto a fire.

I landed on the body of one of the men I'd killed. Before me lay his cudgel, resting in a pool of thick blood. I snatched it up as the giant bellowed over me.

I rolled and threw the cudgel overhanded. The weapon struck him dead in the forehead.

The snarl across his face vanished as his jaw slackened. He stared at me in utter shock. Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell, crashing onto the alley floor.

I struggled to my feet, my body aching and my breath sharp in my chest.

Lefevre's last man cradled his injured arm against his ribs, whimpering. I faced him, stiletto in hand.

He fled. When he reached the alley entrance, he began screaming for lawmen, shouting about murderers and ghosts and other unintelligible things.

If the lawmen showed, it'd be over. We needed to flee.

I stumbled over the bodies toward Les. I crouched and pushed the hood off his face.

His eyes were closed, but he was breathing. I released my own breath, not even aware I'd been holding it. He wasn't dead. I hadn't gotten him killed.

“Les.” I tugged on his leathers. “Alessio!”

He moved his head but didn't wake. I lifted one of his eyelids. He moaned and feebly struggled away from my fingers.

We needed to leave. Now. Any longer and we risked being caught by the lawmen.

I grabbed one of his long arms and draped it over my shoulder. I braced my back against the wall of the alley and stood, pulling Les with me.

He was too heavy. I needed to find the strength to move him. I couldn't be weak now. I tugged on him and called his name, and he seemed to wake enough to get his feet under him.

We stumbled deeper into the alley to the boarded-up door I'd seen when we'd first dropped into this alley. It didn't matter where it led. It had to be better than walking the streets in the open.

The board was rotten and old and it took barely any effort to yank it down. Les leaned on me more and more the longer I supported him.

The lock had failed years ago and I pushed the door open, heaving Les with me into the dark and gloom.

Dust coated the air. I coughed heavily behind my mask, and for a moment, I was back in my home in Ravenna and it wasn't dust in the air but ash, and it wasn't Alessio I carried but my brother Rafeo, bleeding his life away. A sob escaped me, but I kept us moving through the building as tears blurred my vision and my breath burned my throat.

Les fell and dragged me with him.

“Alessio!” I yelled, but he didn't respond. He lay on the ground like a dead man. I couldn't continue to carry him like this. I needed a solution.

I examined the dark, decrepit building. It had been a house once, for a family maybe, with children and laughter and warmth.

Rotted carpets were spread across the floors, large sections torn away to reveal the wood beneath, and black wallpaper peeled off the walls like the rind from an orange. A rickety staircase led to a second floor, but most of the steps were missing, stolen for firewood perhaps.

In a corner, concealed behind a collapsing wall, stood an old cupboard and a pile of blankets. We had to hide and pray the lawmen wouldn't find us.

I grabbed Les under his arms and dragged him to the cupboard. I pushed him inside and ran to the main hall.

Anyone looking for us would be able to follow the drag marks and footsteps in the dust to the cupboard. I'd have to lay a false trail.

I pushed my weight against the half-collapsed wall in front of the cupboard room. It creaked, then crashed onto the cracked tile of the floor, covering my drag marks. A storm of dust exploded into the air and I coughed. I climbed over the debris and snatched a moldy blanket.

In the hall I used the blanket to fake more drag marks as I headed away from the room and to the other side of the building. I found another boarded-up door and rammed it down. It spilled me into an alley. This one, though, had a canal running along the end of it.

I dragged the blanket after me, creating an extended trail of dust. Then I lobbed the blanket into the canal's waters.

The abandoned building was easy to scale, even with my shoulder and its fresh pain, and I dashed as fast as possible to the roof to keep my false trail intact.

In the square, a troop of lawmen made their way toward the scene of the fight. I'd run out of time.

I raced across the roof and scurried down into the alley, recklessly jumping the last story. The hard cobblestones jarred my ankles and back. I leaped into the house as the light in the alley dimmed from the lawmen's entrance.

When I reached Les, still hidden in the cupboard, I climbed in with him, pulling his long legs against me so the cupboard door could close on our tangled bodies.

The air and dust were thick inside. The gods themselves
had to hear the beating of my heart as I tried to keep us quiet and still.

Les groaned beside me. I covered his mouth with my hands, the hair on his face sharp against my burned palm.

Shocked shouts drifted in from the alley. The lawmen had found the bodies.

They rushed into the building. I drew Les tight against me and kept my hand over his mouth.

My breath against my mask sounded like bellows pumping in my ears. They'd hear me. They couldn't not hear me. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on Les's warm breath against my hand.

“Look!” a voice came. “Over here!”

Footsteps pounded through the building, and then silence again. I swallowed, my throat like a desert.

More footsteps, casual this time, as if the person strolled along a park instead of an abandoned building.

All my life I'd fought and killed people but had never experienced fear as I did then, hiding in the cupboard, praying we wouldn't be discovered.

The man whistled. My blood turned to ash. Lefevre.

He knew he was looking for me. Knew I was responsible for the dead men.
His
dead men.

He paused and hummed to himself, as if he'd found something interesting. He had to be examining the collapsed wall, and if he looked too closely, he would see the cupboard hidden in the dark corner.

I clutched the key around my neck.

The floorboards creaked. Then more footsteps arrived, less frantic this time.

“Couchier found a blanket in the canal,” the new speaker announced. “Looks as if they fled that way.”

“Show me,” Lefevre said. They left the building.

I nearly collapsed with relief. We weren't safe yet, but they'd bought my ruse.

Alessio groaned again. “Don't leave me, Lea.” His words were quiet and slow.