Karmash was getting tired of this constant opposition. “You haven’t fought the Mars. I have. We’ll need a shield of bodies between us. Trust me on this.”
The door loomed in front of him. He punched it open and walked into the room. Eight men stared at him. He noted rifles on the walls. As he’d surmised, they were the rest of the priest’s guards.
Karmash reached into his pocket and dropped a handful of gold coins on the table. A small ransom. A quiet sound fluttered through the room as six men simultaneously sucked in their breath.
“I’m hunting a man,” Karmash said. “He’s in your church trying to kill your priest. I need this man alive. Help me apprehend him, and this gold is yours.”
AUDREY landed in her seat and leaned over to Kaldar. “What’s the plan, C again?”
Kaldar slipped his arm around her, pulling her closer, possessive, and toyed with her hair. “No need for Plan C. I’ve got it.”
“What?”
He eased his jacket open, squeezing the lining with his hand, and she glimpsed the outline of the chain in the secret pocket. “How . . . When?”
“Trade secret, love.” He smiled at her.
Damn it, but the man is smooth. She leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Careful now,” he murmured.
Ed Yonker climbed to the pulpit and raised his hands. “Brothers and sisters!”
The crowd stared at him, rapt.
“Listen to me and heed my words.”
The crowd stared. Someone cleared their throat.
“Today I bring you the Blessed Light!”
The crowd watched him. Yonker frowned. Alarm squirmed through Audrey. Something must have usually happened during this part of the service, and it was clearly not happening. George leaned to Kaldar and whispered urgently. Kaldar leaned toward her. “The gems are supposed to emit light when hit with magic.”
“I don’t suppose you can do emotion-manipulation magic?” she whispered.
“No.”
Audrey eased her feet out of her spiked heels.
Yonker touched the chain. His face turned bright red with fury.
A man jumped up on the right. Slicked-back hair, pale, where had she see him before? The recognition popped like a soap bubble in her head: Magdalene’s receptionist, Adam, with the weird haircut. He’d pulled his hair back off his face, and it had thrown her for a minute.
The pale man pointed at them. “They stole it! They took it!”
Magdalene had double-crossed them.
“Kill them!” Yonker bellowed.
“Cover your ears!” Kaldar hurled something toward the pulpit. Audrey clamped her hands over her ears.
The guards yanked their rifles off their shoulders.
A brilliant white light exploded between the benches and the stage, followed by a clap of thunder that punched through her hands straight into her eardrums. The church shook. The pictures danced and crashed to the floor.
A dozen people screamed at once. Men and women jumped from their seats, pushing each other out of the way in a rush to get out, concealing them temporarily from the guards. Audrey jumped to her feet and pushed her way into the aisle, trying to brace against the crowd so the boys could exit. Jack somersaulted over her head and landed in the center aisle, his eyes on fire with glowing amber. George ran along the bench like a tightrope walker. Jack grabbed her right arm, George took her left, and they pulled her to the doors. Kaldar brought up the rear.
The white light turned orange as the photographs and the purple brocade at the altar caught fire. The choir fled. Yonker didn’t move. He simply stood there, bewildered, looking at the flames.
A bench collapsed in the other row, knocking a knot of bodies to the ground. The closest guard was closing in, clubbing people streaming to the doors with the butt of his rifle. A long, slender blade flashed in Kaldar’s hand.
He does have a sword. Audrey blinked.
The guard took aim, almost point-blank. Kaldar sliced, someone howled, and the flood of people hid them from her view.
The crowd crashed against the church doors. They held. People smashed into Audrey, pushing her forward into the writhing mass of bodies clawing at the door. We’ll get crushed, flashed through her head.
A loud yell, savage and inhuman, overtook the desperate cries of the crowd. The doors parted, and for a moment Audrey saw a giant man, silhouetted against the light, enormous muscles bulging on his arms. He leaped aside, and people spilled out of the church, into the sunlight.
“Go!” Audrey pushed the boys forward. “Go, go, go.”
The press of the crowd carried them outside. They burst into the open, running past two men with rifles. A guard on the right, a big thick man with a short beard, cursed. “Thin the crowd! Thin the crowd, or we’ll lose him.”
The man next to him raised his rifle and fired into the crowd. A dark-haired man dropped to the ground. On the other side of the church, another gunshot popped. A man screamed.
They were shooting at their own congregation.
The bearded guard raised his rifle.
Oh no, no you don’t, you sick bastard.
Audrey sprinted and hit him, ramming him hard with her shoulder. The man went down. Jack landed on top of him with a guttural snarl, ripped the rifle from the guard’s hands, and smashed the butt into the man’s head. The other guard stumbled back, jerking his weapon up.
George’s eyes ignited with white. Tiny streaks of white flash, bright like lightning, rolled from his hands.
The guard dropped the rifle and took off.
People still ran from the church. Kaldar and Gaston were nowhere in sight.
The kids were looking at her. They had to get a car. Audrey whirled, looking around. Yonker’s Jeep Cherokee was parked on the side of the church. “Jack, grab that rifle and follow me!” She sprinted to the Jeep, her bare feet barely touching the ground.
THE exit beckoned Kaldar, a glowing rectangle of light. He walked up the aisle, light on his feet. Behind him, two men writhed in pain. Farther still, behind the low wall of fire, Yonker screamed curses from the pulpit.
A peculiar calm claimed Kaldar, the smooth serenity that always came to him in battle. His family was old, rooted in a half-forgotten time when wars had pushed elite warriors of the old Weird kingdoms into the pit of hell that was the Mire. Their blood flowed in his veins. His uncle was a man of the Old Ways—his sword was death on the battlefield. Cerise was one, too. His brother Richard was one as well. And so was he.
The blade had been a part of Kaldar’s education since he could stand on his own two feet. He didn’t like to kill unless he had no choice. Not even Murid’s death had changed that. But he was raised to find peace within the slaughter, and that peace sustained him now.
A bullet whistled by Kaldar’s ear. On the left, a young man, barely old enough to hold a rifle, tried to reload his weapon with shaking hands. Kaldar ducked and threw a knife. The blade sank into the wall next to the guard’s head. The boy dropped the rifle.
“Run!” Kaldar called.
The guard scrambled outside.
“You!” Yonker snapped out of his daze and screamed like a stuck bull. “Stop him!”
A man lunged at Kaldar from the right. Large, muscular, but sadly too slow. Kaldar rolled his blade over the man’s left thigh. Blood gushed. Kaldar leaned away from the man’s punch and sliced the other thigh. The man croaked something and went down like a log. Kaldar skirted him and kept walking. Three guards burst through the doors, ran down the aisle, saw him, and halted. The blond man on the left looked at the two bodies behind him. “Holy shit.”
“Shoot him!” Yonker howled from behind the flames. “Shoot his ass!”
Kaldar looked at their faces. “Let me pass, and you will live.”
“He said to take him alive,” the man on the left said.
“Fuck that.” The older of the men jerked his rifle up.