Page 60 of Wicked Thieves
The Watchman screamed as blood poured from his nose, loosening his grip on his sword long enough for Aeric to run his sword through the Watchman’s side, sending him to the ground. Aeric stalked toward the man as he groaned and seethed in rage, his hand brushing over the snow in search for his sword.
Anelize hurried toward the woman and her child, helping her stand, before saying, “Go. Get out of here.”
“T-thank you,” the woman stammered before turning and running as fast as her legs could take her and her child to safety, only casting one sorrowful look toward the burning house, to the man lying on the steps. Then she was gone.
“For such a mighty Watchman, you sure talk too much,” Aeric drawled as his boot landed on the Watchman’s hand, crushing his fingers before they could graze the pommel of his discarded sword. Aeric raised a bloodied hand as the flames from the house fell away from the crumbling walls. Answering his call as they swirled and spun around his hand, the red flames changing to a vibrant blue. When he spoke, there was no warmth in his voice as the flames wound themselvesaround his sword. “You forget, steel is nothing to fire. And what is a man met by both?”
The Watchman’s scream was consumed as Aeric thrust his blade into his gut, the flames washing over him like a great wave, slowly ripping into flesh and bone. When it was done, there were only small blue flames flickering in the snow around a black, soot-stained spot where the man had once been. Aeric stumbled back as he released a weary breath.
“Aeric!” Anelize rushed to his side, supporting him before he could topple over.
His eyes, tired from the conjuring and the fight, found hers before they widened.
“Anya? What are you doing here?”
As if she’d somehow managed to bring him back to life, he turned and placed his hands on her arms, inspecting her. When his warm palm brushed over the burn on her arm, she flinched.
“You’re hurt.” He quickly dropped his hands, frowning when he saw her wound, his anger evident as he said, “I told you to stay inside. What were you thinking?”
“I couldn’t stay knowing what was happening. I saw what the Watchmen were doing and had to?—”
“Do you even understand what it would mean if you were killed? How important you are?”
Anelize grinned. “When you put it like that, how could I forget? Don’t worry, I’ll get that book yet.”
Aeric’s eyes narrowed on her, gripping her uninjured arm to stop her. He made her look at him before he said, “That’s not what I meant.”
She blinked.
“What…what is it you mean then?”
Aeric stepped closer. His mask was still in place, but it was his eyes that showed such emotion that she hardly needed to see his face to gauge what it was he was feeling. The desperation. The pleading in them. The wanting she did not truly understand. Because she was afraid to know what it truly meant.
Only none of that mattered.
Not as Anelize saw the Watchman standing mere paces away from them at the end of the street, too late. Not until he sent an arrow flying straight through Aeric’s heart.
20
Blood.
There was so much blood as the arrow pierced through Aeric’s chest, warm flecks making her flinch as they touched her face. And then there was so much of it that it coated the front of his leathers crimson down to his abdomen.
Aeric hadn’t so much as screamed when he dropped to the ground, falling into the snow before her. The way a dead body would.
No, no, no!
It was Anelize who screamed as she rushed to him, horror and dread filled every inch of her. Her body, her mind, her soul. Everything called to him in that one desperate scream. She made it all of two steps to him before a hand gripped the back of her hair and yanked her back, shoving her to the ground. Snow flew around her as she struggled to sit up, baring her teeth as she inched away from the Watchman who towered over her.
“Vedran or sympathizer. What are you?” the Watchman sneered, holding the bow that he’d used to…to…
Anelize wanted to close her eyes and feel for his heart. Anything that could tell her that Aeric was alive. But she couldn’t, not as the Watchman stalked toward her, his boots crunching the snow beneath him.
“It matters not what you are. I’ll string you up and have the dogs feast on you regardless.”
She made to stand, to fight back the way Adan had taught her. Her arms shot up, barely managing to shield herself from the bow he used like a whip, the wood hitting her wrist hard enough that she bit back a scream of pain and something wet and warm rushed down her sleeve. The second time he struck her, she hadn’t been prepared as his boot hit her square in the chest sending her back to the ground. The air in her lungs rushed out on a gasp.
“Stay down, and I’ll make this quick,” the Watchman ordered with a snicker before he turned to walk away.
