Finally, they reached the outer ring of a small courtyard. It was in a chaotic state of urban disrepair; once-beautiful archways collapsed to formless piles of rubble. That was where Cass saw the first of them.
She recognized her instantly. It was Jez. Mesmerizingly beautiful Jez, with her skin-tight fibrasteel suit, and white-blonde hair dangling down her back in tight braids; braids that often concealed razortips cunningly woven in. Jez moved like a heron. Graceful, fluid steps, punctuated by a piercingly sharp gaze that snapped from point to point with almost inhuman precision. Cass’s breath caught in her throat. Instinctively she dropped to a low crouch and pulled Wren tight to her side.
Jez, on the other side of the courtyard, stopped. Stood stone still. Listening.
Finally, Jez moved on, out of sight. Cass felt a rush of hot breath on her neck, as Wren released the one he’d been holding.
“Back out. Slooowly,” Cass whispered. “We’ll find a way around.”
Without taking her eyes from the corner around which Jez had disappeared, Cass took cautious steps backwards, back the way they’d entered. As she stood, she bumped into something that hadn’t been there before.
And before she could even draw a breath to cry out, a hand clamped tight over her mouth, jerking her head back into a shoulder. Lips on her ear hissed a warning.
“Shhhhhhhh.”
She nodded as much as she could, caught as she was. Immediately, the hand relaxed, slipped from her mouth down gently to her neck. Cass felt the tension release from her body. Three hadn’t left them after all. He must’ve been watching for them.
His lips lingered on her earlobe, wet, slightly parted. She heard him inhale deeply, as if drawing in her scent. As if he’d missed her. Cass hazarded a sidelong glance.
Not Three.
Dagon. The Grave.
Cass spun out of his loose grasp; instinctively jerked Wren behind her, shielding him. She hunched down, readied, tried to trigger a boost before she realized she had nothing to tap. For a moment, Dagon just stood there, watching her.
Then, he spoke.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Low tones, conspiratorial. He glanced off to where Jez had gone, as if he hoped no one would notice him here, with Cass and her son.
“I was worried. About you,” he said, “and Spinner too, of course.”
Dagon leaned to one side, trying get a look at Wren.
“Heya, Spins.”
Wren clung to his mother’s leg, but offered a half-wave in response.
“Hi Dagon.”
“I’m not coming back, Dagon,” Cass said. “Neither of us are. You know that.”
Dagon shifted his gaze around, met her eyes briefly, quickly looked away. He had an awkward posture, always uncomfortable, like his bones didn’t quite fit together. Pale skin almost translucent at times, dark circles under dark eyes. Impossibly thin, like a knife-blade. Unequivocally deadly.
“I’d watch out for you, Haven. I always have.”
“My name is Cass.”
He looked at her again, fleeting. Nervous.
“Cass,” his voice quavered. “Just come back with me. We can work it out. Me and Ran. We’ll take care of you, I promise.”
“I don’t think you’ll get the chance.”
“Why? Asher won’t do anything.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He looked back to her, held her gaze for once. He looked lost. For a split second, she almost felt sorry for him.
“What are you—?”
Dagon almost asked the question, but at the last possible moment, he twisted his body, bent backwards, held a gravity-defying pose as Three’s blade severed the air where Dagon’s neck had been a half-instant before. How Dagon had sensed Three, Cass would never know. Even watching Three’s approach, she hadn’t heard him. It didn’t matter now anyway. She could hardly believe what was unfolding before her.
Three must’ve been surprised by Dagon’s sudden evasion, but he almost seemed to expect it the way he redirected his blade in a fluid motion, a single strike. Dagon bent again, twisted, dropped on his shoulder and whipped his shin across Three’s collarbone. Three stumbled back, rebalanced, just as Dagon whirled and regained his feet. For a heartbeat, they sized each other up.
Then collided.
Dagon was the first to impact, his knee crushing into Three’s solar plexus a half-second before Three buried his elbow into Dagon’s jaw. Dagon spun with the force of the attack, but carried through with a kick that knocked the sword from Three’s hand. Three responded with a stinging backhand, followed it up with a flurry of strikes too fast for Cass’s eyes to see. Dagon bounded backwards, but in the next instant lunged forward, catching Three with a hard palm to the face, and then darting his fingertips into a nerve cluster at Three’s shoulder joint. Three fell back again, dazed, clutching his arm as it dangled uselessly. Dagon melted to the ground, rolled, somehow came up to his feet with Three’s blade in hand.
Cass couldn’t help it. She called out, reflexively.
“Dagon, no!”
Too late. Dagon slashed the blade across Three’s throat. Three’s hand jerked once, spasmodically. For a moment afterwards, no one moved. Then, Cass gasped at the thin line of crimson that welled on Three’s Adam’s apple.
“Please,” Dagon said, glancing at Cass, almost pleading. “They’ll hear us.”
Dagon looked back to Three, watched him with unreserved fascination, the hint of a smile on his thin lips.
“I could’ve killed you, you know.”
Three hesitated, nodded. He reached up, felt his throat with his fingertips. A seam of blood stretched from one side of his throat to the other, a shallow cut, almost surgical. A warning.
“I didn’t do so bad myself,” Three replied in dry monotone.
Dagon chuckled humorlessly, dropped his gaze to his own torso. There, for the first time, Cass saw a slender length of polished steel protruding from between Dagon’s ribs.
“Missed the heart,” Dagon answered.
“Not by much.”
Dagon shrugged, smiled. Shot a look to Cass. Struggled, wavered. Finally.
“You know I can’t just let you go.”
He turned back to Three, eyed him. Cass saw something pass between them, some kind of understanding she couldn’t identify or explain. Three smirked.
“But I can give you a head start.”
Dagon plucked the blade from between his ribs, bowed slightly, extended Three’s short sword back to him. Three took it without ceremony; slid it into its sheath.
“I’ll keep this one,” Dagon said, holding the simple knife. “A reminder.”
Three touched his throat again.
“Guess I’ll keep this one then.”
“Next time,” Dagon started.
Three just nodded. Cass picked Wren up and quickly joined Three. Dagon wouldn’t look at her anymore.
“You should go,” he said quietly. “They won’t be far behind.”
“Dagon…” Cass began.
“Don’t.”
He turned his back to them, but made no motion to leave.
“Seeya, Spins.”
“Bye,” Wren murmured.
Cass swung Wren to her back, and hoped in her heart she’d never see Dagon again.
Three didn’t know what exactly had just transpired, who Dagon was, or why he’d let them go, but he wasn’t about to wait around for someone else to find them. He grabbed Cass under the arm and led her as fast as she could go back the way he had come. They’d made it deep into a tight alley, maybe fifty meters away, before Cass ripped her arm from him and stopped running.
Three halted, whirled to face her.
“We’ve got to keep moving.”
Cass set Wren down on his feet. And then, with everything she had, she punched Three square in the face. He took it, but reflexively grabbed her wrists.