Page 4 of Spark of the Everflame

It was, to my irritation, a clever challenge. Adult Descended had steel-strong skin, impervious to mortal weapons. If I was one of them, his blade would do me no harm. But if I was mortal...

He inched toward me and jabbed its sharp point in the air. The metal was close enough to see the dried blood crusting its edge.

“Come on, girl. Just put out your hands.” He smirked. “I won’t hurt you too bad.”

My fingers twitched with the urge to pull my daggers. I could channel my father’s training, use it to slice open their hands, their cheeks, their groins. It would make for an easy escape without anyone ending up dead.

But if I did, they would inevitably end up at the healers’ center.Myhealers’ center.

My stomach turned at the thought of subjecting our young apprentices to these brutes. I’d spent too many of my own Forging Days dodging swinging fists and groping hands as a trainee.

A cold kind of numbness lurked at the edge of my thoughts. I could slice them a little deeper, aim for just the right vein. I could ensure they never stumbled out of this dark alley, or any other, ever again. Maybe the world would be better off.

I’d never taken a life before. As a healer, I’d sworn a vow to help, not harm. And I didn’t want to be like the cruel Descended, playing god as I dealt out death like a deck of cards.

But if my own life was on the line...

Survive,my father’s words echoed in my ears.At whatever cost, to whatever end. Survive first, mind the consequences later.

It happened almost too quickly to see. One moment, the man was lunging toward me, a brush of cool air skimming my ribs as the tip of his dagger snagged my tunic and ripped a hole in the fabric. The next moment, my limbs were flying in a choreographed war hymn my body could sing in its sleep.

It was all too easy to dodge their flailing, booze-affected swipes and lay blow after blow of my own. A knee to the groin. The heel of a hand to the throat. A handful of dirt flung into their eyes. Each attack targeted to incapacitate themjust enough.

The tall one screeched and buckled to his knees. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his eyes fought to clear the gritty debris.

Beside him, his friend lay on his back, clutching at his throat and gasping for air. “You’re dead!Dead!”

“You said you wanted me to fight back.” I stepped over their writhing bodies, swiping up their fallen knives and the broadswords at their hips. I might not have had the guts to kill them, but I could at least keep them from taking out their rage on the next woman they came across.

I kicked another cloud of dirt into their eyes, provoking a fresh round of howls. “Remember this the next time you think about attacking a random woman.”

“You’re gonna pay!”

“When I find you—”

“Blessed Forging!” I said sweetly. A long string of crude slurs trailed me as I dashed out of the alley and back onto the wider main road.

The commotion had begun to draw eyes in my direction. Heads craned to see who I was, what I had been doing. A gathering of four armed men started walking my direction.

“You, woman,” one of them called out. “What’s going on?”

Wonderful. If there was anything I needed less than two angry men with knives questioning me, it wassixangry men with knives questioning me.

Nearby, I spotted a passage that led to an all-too-familiar set of alleyways. I crept toward it as I tugged my hood up over my head.

“You there,” the man called again. His steps quickened. “Stop where you are.”

“That bitch attacked me and stole my weapons!”

I winced.Well, shit.

The tall one staggered from the alley, finger extended my way. White-hot fury blazed in his eyes. “Stop her!”

I bolted for the alley as fiery adrenaline scorched through my veins.

I knew these paths well. This wasn’t the poorest area of Mortal City, but it was the seediest, the kind of place where you could chase any manner of sin. They called it Paradise Row—ironic or fitting, depending on what you sought.

As a healer, I’d always been drawn to the most vulnerable of patients: an escort beaten bloody by her client, a desperate addict overdosing on magic-laced drugs, a starving pickpocket who’d lost a hand stealing from the wrong mark. My willingness to take on any call, no matter how dangerous or unsavory, made me a frequent visitor to Paradise Row’s shadowy labyrinth.

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