Page 19 of Shield of Fire

I looked up; the roof remained empty, but that was a lie because the elf was still here and so was whoever those footsteps belonged to.

And he was just about to barrel into me.

I threw myself sideways, rolled onto my knees, then lunged forward and stabbed at the empty-looking air. There was a brief second of resistance, then light sparked down the knife’s fuller and the air shimmered and retracted, revealing a thickset man with shaggy hair and fists the size of clubs.

Clubs that were aimed straight at my face.

I swore and slashed the knife sideways. The blade sliced through skin and bone with the ease of butter, and several thick digits plopped harmlessly to the roof. Blood spurted across my face, and I gagged, but the hairy stranger was still coming at me, fists looming large. I dove sideways, then rolled away, and the blow that would have smashed my face hit the concrete instead. He didn’t get a second chance. I caught the wind, wrapped it around him, and tossed him across the road to a rooftop several buildings away. If he decided to risk more missing digits, it would at least take him some time to get back here.

I scrambled upright and swiped an arm across my blood-splattered face. Then, with the knife gripped tightly in my right hand, ran back toward the chimney. The blade’s pulsing light sharpened. The elf had begun to call on the ruby’s powers.

I still wasn’t seeing either him or his concealment shield, but the increasing intensity of magic told me he was no longer standing close to Falkner Street—a fact confirmed by the small fiery orb that now hovered several feet off the ground close to the building’s edge on that side.

I swore, drew my second knife, and skidded down the roofline toward the orb but hit the concealment shield instead and came to an abrupt halt. A soft bark of laughter swam around me, and annoyance rose. He thought he had the upper hand... and maybe he did. But he was also relying on what he’d once known about me rather than what I now was.

I raised my knives and slashed them crossways through the shimmering air. There was a sharp retort, then the shield fell away, briefly revealing the elf’s somewhat surprised features.

His eyes, I couldn’t help but note, were a vivid green rather than the shadowed silver or rich brown of the Myrkálfar elves. Which, along with his red hair, suggested that while his accent was British, his origins weren’t. As far as I was aware, none of the Myrkálfar elves here possessed that coloring.

Before I could say anything, before I could do anything, something smashed into me and sent me sprawling sideways. I hit the tiles hard on hands and knees, briefly skinning my knuckles before falling flat on my face. My teeth went through my bottom lip and the bitter taste of blood filled my mouth.

I swore and thrust upright. The rooftop briefly spun, and all I wanted to do was throw up, but the air was screaming, and it was a warning I couldn’t ignore.

He was coming at me. Not the elf, the man mountain.

How in the hell had he gotten back here so fast? Was he a shifter? Some kind of monstrous bird?

I had no idea, and no time to contemplate it. I spun around. His expression was dark and furious, and he was trailing blood from the remnants of his right hand. But his left was clenched around a thick metal bar and there was murder in his eyes.

I flung the air between us. He hit the barrier hard and toppled like a tree. As a shudder went through the tiles, I grabbed another fistful of air and spun toward the elf.

Just as he lifted his hand, and his magic lifted me.

As he flung me away, I unleashed the air. Had a quick glimpse of him tumbling across several rooftops then dropping from sight before I smashed through a window on the opposite side of the street. I hit the floorboards hard and skidded several feet into the room, coming to a sudden halt against the front of a sofa, and immediately curled into a ball to protect my face and body from the brief rain of glass and wood that followed me in.

But even after that rain eased, I remained where I was, sucking in air and trying to avoid the deeper darkness that threatened to consume me. Everyone had their limits, and between last night’s efforts and using the Codex this morning, I’d just about reached mine.

But this game was not over yet.

The soft song reverberating through the boards underneath me altered in timbre, indicating someone was moving up the stairs toward me.

It didn’t feel like the elf, but I couldn’t take any chances. I had to get up. Had to move.

With a soft groan, I rolled onto my hands and my knees, but couldn’t go any further. I gripped my knives harder as the footsteps drew closer, tension rolling through my aching body even though there was no immediate sense of threat.

The echo of movement stopped, and a woman said sharply, “What the fuck is going on?”

“Sorry about your window.” I pushed back onto my heels and then glanced at her. Her face was pale, but there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she could protect herself. “I need to get back down to the street—you got a door somewhere?”

Which had to be the stupidest question ever, but my brain didn’t appear to be in full function mode right now.

The woman simply raised her eyebrow. “Of course I have, but you’re not going anywhere until the cops?—”

Meaning she’d already called them. Given there hadn’t been all that much time between when I’d crashed through her window and her confronting me, maybe she’d seen us fighting on the other roof and had rung it in.

“Lady, we haven’t got time to wait for the cops. There’s a man on the roof opposite who’s armed with a weapon that could destroy this entire block?—”

“That’s not possible.”

---