Page 102 of Marked by the Demigod

Iakov nods, slow, his lips tightening and his face paling, as if indescribable horror crossed his mind. "Aimes," he whispers, his voice broken, "Aimes, I'm okay." His breath hitches, and she feels a bubble in the back of her throat, like his distress reaches across the room to her and takes hold around her neck. His eyes flicker to Katya.

The fingers close tighter around her arm, and she flinches. Cold radiates down her elbow, as if he is attempting to freeze her blood and stop her veins. "Iakov," the twin spits out, then launches into a barrage of Russian that leaves her blinking.

She has to stab him.

The other twin is too far away for her to reach, not by surprise and not in any reality. After she takes out one...

For an odd, disassociated moment, while they spit at each other in furious Russian, she wonders if the twins can feel each other's pain. If they are somehow like her and Iakov, if it will hurt like that.

A stuttering breath from Iakov cuts through her thoughts. He's staring at her, wild eyed, still forcing out Russian.

The twin holding her shakes her, as if punctuation in a sentence she can't understand, but, she thinks she sees Katya's foot move.

Relief flooding her, she meets Iakov's eyes again.

Wetness rims his eyes, like he's about to cry. As if they can communicate telepathically, Aimes nods at him, hoping it to be something resembling comforting.

He sucks in a deep breath, as if steeling himself, tearing his eyes away from Aimes, and she gets the horrid, sinking sensation that he's about to do something very, very stupid.

So she shifts her grip on the knife. Pivots around the arm held tight by the twin, pulling up her other arm and stabbing down.

The knife slides into his chest, as easy as if she is slipping it into a knife block, and doesn't stop until her fist around the handle thumps against his chest.

There's either no sound, or her ears are roaring too loud, but the twin stares down at her, his eyebrows coming together, and his confused expression is just too close to Iakov's that she closes her eyes.

The chest against her fist jerks, then slumps forward, and she struggles to keep herself upright.

And in an instant, the intense quiet breaks. The other twin, the one across the room, lets out a coarse yell, dashing forward.

Aimes jerks out the knife, and it catches on his sternum bone, scratching like nails on a chalkboard. As she stumbles away, that twin falls, slumping over. His brother catches him before he hits the carpet.

Her entire arm is coated in vivid red blood, sticking to her arm hairs and dripping on her fingers, and she brandishes at the remaining twin.

"Get out," she says, and her voice trembles along with her hand, but he looks at her, his eyes wide, stricken.

The twin on the floor, with the gaping bloody hole in his chest, stares unseeing up at the wall of the room. Or, at least, his eyes are open, unblinking, and his chest doesn't rise and his blood doesn't stop leaking onto the carpet.

With a lump rising in her throat, she knows he's dead. He's dead, one of the twins is dead, and she's the one that did it.

The remaining twin stares at her, as if he's unable to do anything else.

"Get out. Leave," she says again, gesturing with the knife. "Leave us alone."

His eyes flickering between her and Iakov, his face grey, he crawls to his feet, leaving his dead twin on the floor. His polished suit is slicked with blood, and he backs away from her, holding his hands up.

His fingertips shake, and his eyes unfocus as she watches, as if something inside him breaks down. His face goes slack, and he twitches.

She gestures with the knife, more of a wild stab at the air than anything coordinated, and he disappears with a flash, leaving the body of his brother behind.

And then, only then, in the sudden quiet of the room left behind, does she look over at Iakov.

Their eyes meet for a second, then she drops the knife with a clatter and rushes over to him. "Oh my god," she blurts out, and for once she's covered in way more blood than he is. "Oh my god, are you at all okay?"

For a brief moment he recoils away from her, and she freezes. Then he takes a deep breath, nods, his face wet. "What," he rasps, then shakes his head as if to dislodge what just happened.

She jerks around him, to where Katya is stirring. There's blood under her hair, but she's breathing.

With shaking hands, Aimes unties the copper cord holding Iakov to the chair, and he groans when the pressure is off his shoulder. "We should get out...leave," she says, and her voice sounds strange even to her own ears. "Katya needs help."

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