Marked by an Assassin (30 page)

Aya wanted to growl, not just because the huntress clearly still harboured desire for Harbin even though he wanted to kill her. She wanted to growl because the female clearly intended to finish the mission she had been given twenty years ago by ensuring Harbin was dead.

That fear became a reality as the woman stood and held her hand out to the male beside her. He muttered something in a strange tongue and a blade appeared in the woman’s gloved hand.

“It must have felt nice,” the huntress said in a soft voice, her eyes locked on Harbin as she lowered the blade to her side and then lifting to fix on Aya. “I want to know… since my victory is a hollow one… how does it feel to have killed the person who brought harm to you and your kin?”

Aya’s lips curled into a slow smile.

“I’ll tell you when you’re drawing your last breath.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re drawing your last breath.”

That was Harbin’s cue. He flipped onto his feet and whirled to face the witch and the huntress, bringing his leg around in a fast blur at the same time. His bare heel connected with the right forearm of the male as he quickly brought his arm up to defend himself. Fire flashed in the witch’s red eyes and his left hand shot towards Harbin’s ankle.

Harbin was too fast, shifting his leg beyond the male’s reach before he could snag it, and bringing his other leg up as he dipped his upper body downwards to counter his weight as he took another shot at the witch.

This time when the black-haired male blocked, he put a pulse of power into it and Harbin went spinning across the alley, tumbling head over heel until he crashed into the wall and slid down it.

Aya roared and kicked off, and his head snapped towards her. Her gold-silver eyes were locked on the blonde huntress, her emerging fangs bared on a wicked snarl as she ran at her.

His focused leaped to the huntress and the darkness he expected to rise and overwhelm him as it did whenever he crossed paths with a member of Archangel didn’t come. Instead, calm rushed through him, clarity that filled him with a sense that he could fight and keep his head throughout the battle, and he knew it was because of Aya. Her presence soothed him, tempering the darkness and his memories, holding them at bay. His eyes darted to her, and every male instinct he possessed said to intervene and protect his mate, but he had a problem.

He slid his silver gaze back to the witch that stood between him and the fighting females.

The male neatened his snug black robe, smoothing the looser tails over his black trousers, and calmly lifted red eyes towards him. The emptiness in them warned Harbin that this wasn’t going to be an easy fight, because the witch was already drawing immense power from the well of magic inside him, giving himself over to it and preparing himself for the coming battle. Harbin had watched the bastard fight before and knew some of his moves, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down and think they were the only ones the male had in his arsenal.

He wasn’t going to take his eyes off the witch until he was down for the count. Only then could he go after the huntress. If he attempted an attack on her now, the witch would use that opening against him and he would be the one down for the count instead.

He had to trust that Aya could keep the huntress occupied until he had dealt with the witch.

They had dealt with the witch.

A familiar ripple of power ran down Harbin’s spine and he picked himself up, not taking his eyes off the witch as his backup arrived.

Something soft hit him in the back. “At least have a little modesty.”

His lips quirked at the sound of disgust mixed with disappointment in Hartt’s voice. It wasn’t the first time his boss had come armed with more than weapons, aware that Harbin was going to be naked when he arrived. It wasn’t the thousandth time. Hartt had started to sound unimpressed after the tenth, and Harbin was never growing tired of hearing the elf say the same damned thing to him each time he brought him something to wear.

He stepped backwards over the pair of black shorts, kicked them up and caught them, all without taking his eyes off the male witch.

Aya grunted as she tackled the huntress, knocking the female back a few steps, into view beyond the male.

Harbin casually tugged the shorts on, but there was nothing calm about him. He was buzzing with a need to plough through the witch to reach the huntress, and finally have his vengeance.

He couldn’t risk it though. He had already placed Aya in enough danger by making her play bait, he wasn’t going to turn the witch’s focus towards her when she was having enough trouble dealing with the huntress. The bitch had drawn a small compact crossbow and was firing it like the bolts were going out of style. Several zipped past him, and one shot towards the two males at his back.

Fuery’s growl was nothing short of vicious as he caught and snapped one of the small metal bolts in half.

The witch’s red eyes shifted to the elf and narrowed, a flicker of recognition dawning in them.

Harbin waited, aware that things were about to take a turn for the worse. The male’s face twisted into dark lines and his red eyes brightened, and the scent of magic in the air grew stronger, gaining a sickly edge to it that had him wanting to back away and find some clean air to breathe.

Death.

His eyes widened as the air shimmered between him and the witch, shifting like a heat haze at first before shadowy figures grew in the centre of the ripples, taking form and becoming solid as the male muttered beneath his breath.

Clones.

Their milky blue eyes glowed eerily in the low-lit alley.

Three on three didn’t sound too bad, although it did give the witch the upper hand.

Harbin’s stomach dropped. Fuck.

The two clones stepped aside, breaking apart and revealing another two.

Five on three didn’t sound so good.

The huntress shrieked and Harbin looked there, his eyes landing on her retreating back as she sprinted into the shadows, clutching her right arm.

Aya went after her.

Harbin took a step forwards, driven to follow his mate and the female.

All Hell broke loose.

The clone on the left attacked him, swiping his hand through the air, long sharp nails aimed straight for Harbin’s throat. Harbin leaped back at the last second, barely dodging the strike, and ignored Hartt’s unimpressed muttering.

He held his right hand out to his boss and looked back at him as they edged in unison away from the clones and the witch, gaining some space. Hartt brought his left hand up in front of him and Harbin’s twin short curved black blades appeared in them. They were his, but he had left Hartt as their owner, aware that the elf could only teleport items that belonged to him. It was handy at a time like this when they were working together or Harbin had to call on him for assistance, meaning the elf didn’t need to leave his side to bring Harbin’s blades to him.

Fuery remained in the space between them and the witch. He stared at the clones, his black eyes cold and emotionless, not showing the hunger that Harbin could feel in him. The excitement. The elf’s ears grew pointed, flaring back against the tied top half of his overlong blue-black hair. The silver clasp that held it in place flashed under the street lamps as Fuery launched forwards and the golden light chased over the black scales of his skin-tight armour.

His long black katana twitched at his side, skilfully shifted into an attack position, the point facing his enemies and both hands gripping the hilt. He growled and leaped, swung hard and grinned as he came down on top of the clone on the far right. The clone tried to dodge but wasn’t quick enough, and Fuery’s booted feet hit him hard in the chest, sending him crashing onto the tarmac.

Fuery kicked off, somersaulted in the air and landed in a silent crouch behind the witch.

Harbin huffed.

It was typical of Fuery to place a claim on the most powerful enemy present.

Although, in this case, it did leave two clones for him and two for Hartt, which was more of an even split than Fuery normally managed. Harbin was surprised he hadn’t attempted to take on all five at once. It seemed that the mad bastard still had a shred of sense left in his twisted head after all and knew he wouldn’t be able to tackle both the witch and his copies alone.

Divide and conquer.

Harbin tossed one blade into his left hand, curled his fingers around the black leather hilts and assessed the two clones on his side. He had to end this quickly. Killing the copies would weaken the witch, and give him the chance to deal the final blow so he could go after Aya.

She was growing distant, still chasing the huntress. He couldn’t sense any pain in her, but the connection was becoming hazy as she moved away from him. If she moved much further away, she could be hurt without him sensing it. He might not reach her in time to protect her.

His gaze strayed to the direction she had run.

Every fibre of his being said to forget the witch and go after his mate and the huntress.

“Go,” Hartt barked as he lashed out with his black blade at one of the clones, forcing the male to quickly strafe right to avoid the blow, opening a gap in their defensive line.

Harbin glanced at his boss, caught the steely determination flashing in his violet eyes as he clashed with the clone again, and didn’t hesitate.

He ran for the opening Hartt had created for him.

Another clone stepped into his path and he growled as he slashed with his twin blades, cutting through the air in vicious arcs. The male raised his arm to block, deflecting Harbin’s left blade but leaving himself wide open for his right one. He grinned as it sliced down the male’s chest, leaving a gash in his black tunic, revealing a strip of white flesh and crimson. The clone grunted, his pale blue eyes wide and dark with pain as he stumbled backwards and brought his arms up to his chest.

Hartt snarled as he thrust his blade forwards, a violent blur in the low-lit alley, and the copy he had been fighting cried out. Harbin glanced his way as the male staggered into view, the end of Hartt’s black sword protruding from his back and his hands clutching the blade in front of him.

Harbin’s eyes widened as the clone gritted his teeth and pushed the blade out of him despite Hartt’s attempts to drive it deeper, forcing the elf back. They were growing stronger.

He whipped his head around towards Fuery and the male witch where they fought, two wraiths illuminated only by the violent flashes of colourful light as the witch employed spells to weaken Fuery.

But he was weakening too.

Each spell he cast, drained his magic. Each injury they dealt his clones, weakened him too. He was trying to keep them alive, pouring more strength into them. He was desperate.

Harbin thought that only made him more dangerous.

He whirled on his heel, bringing his right blade up at the same time. It connected with the neck of the clone Hartt had been fighting and he drove through the obstruction, growling as his blade sliced deep through bone and flesh. Blood sprayed, slapping onto the tarmac, followed by the dull thud of the clone’s head as it dropped and the slam of his body that fell after it.

The male witch barked out a feral roar as he hurled his right hand forwards, unleashing a blast of green light that hit Fuery square in the chest and sent him flying across the alley. The elf smacked into the brick wall with such force that the blocks fractured, fault lines splintering outwards from where he had impacted. He grunted and dropped to the ground.

Motionless.

“Fuery,” Hartt breathed and silvery light flashed over him, almost blinding in the darkness.

He reappeared next to his comrade in a crouch, his blade held horizontal in front of him and Fuery, sharp edge facing the enemy. He kept his eyes locked on the witch as he ran his free hand over Fuery’s neck. Searching for a pulse.

The brief spark of relief in Hartt’s violet eyes before they suddenly darkened was all Harbin needed to tell him that Fuery was fine.

Hartt slowly rose onto his feet, coming to face the male witch.

Harbin ducked beneath a blow one of the remaining clones aimed at him, his heart pounding faster as he tried to keep all three of them with him. They needed to buy some time, giving Fuery a chance to come around, and Harbin couldn’t let any of the clones turn their focus on Hartt. The elf couldn’t fight the male witch and protect Fuery from the clones at the same time.

Harbin growled as fiery pain shot across his side and turned on his heel, swiftly facing the one who had attacked him. He lashed out with his right blade, forcing the male to block, and drove forwards with his left. The clone snatched his left wrist and twisted it. Harbin gritted his teeth and grunted as pain bolted through his bones and turned his body with his arm, stopping the male from breaking it.

It seemed the less clones there were, the stronger the remaining ones became.

Not a problem.

He just had to move faster, not allowing them to land any attacks or see his moves coming. He flipped his right blade in his hand and slashed at the clone’s head. The male’s blue eyes shot towards his hand and he tried to dodge it, but he wasn’t quick enough to completely evade the strike. Harbin’s blade swiped across his cheek and rivulets of red streamed down to his jaw. The clone shoved with the hand that still held Harbin’s wrist, sending him staggering backwards.

Giving him the space he needed.

He couldn’t shift, because the witch would force him to change back, just as he had Aya, and it would weaken him. He was slower in his human form, but still as agile as and even more dangerous than he was in his snow leopard form.

He flipped his other blade in his left hand, so the black knife ran along the underside of his forearm, his thumbs near the end of the hilts, and sprang at the clone. The male blocked, his forearms and fists knocking against Harbin’s with each blow he tried to land. It seemed the witch was on to him, making his clones more agile. Silver short blades that matched Harbin’s appeared in the hands of the clones around him. The witch was trying to gain the upper hand, arming his slaves with the abilities and weapons they needed to take him down.