Clay moved into Judex’s earlier position, scanning the space beyond. The smoke raked against my lungs, burning my throat, and I grabbed Tarra’s hand, dragging her with me toward the door. “We have to get out of here,” I hacked, holding my arm over my mouth, the dagger still in my grip. She nodded, covering her own face, and we approached Clay.
“We can’t breathe; get us out of here,” I commanded.
The insignia on his forehead flashed, and the golem inched forward, continuing to scan the smoke. We stumbled behind him into the haze filled hallway, and I spared a glance behind me, the Outlander’s shouts and Judex’s bellows growing distant.
The further we staggered, the clearer the air became, and I never thought I’d welcome the putrid smell of the caverns, but at least I could somewhat breathe again. My heart beat in a chaotic dance and I clutched my chest. I tripped forward before Clay lurched to a stop and I smacked into his back.
He crouched, but his body went rigid a second later, and I reeled backwards as the screech of metal meeting stone seared against my eardrums. Clay careened forward, and the floor reverberated beneath me as he landed, and his head rolled down the path. My breath hitched as the dim light of the golem's eyes shining through his helmet faded and went out.
Sin!
“Kaleah!” Tarra screamed, her hands flying to her mouth. I tore my gaze from Clay and froze. Just ahead of us, the last of the smoke dispersed to reveal a dark clothed figure. His golden eyes fixated on me, his white teeth flashing in his tan face.
Another assassin.
Tarra gasped, and I snarled as fear coiled around my throat like a snake, and my hand twisted around the dagger’s hilt. The man charged, wielding a massive broadsword. I tried to lunge away, but my back slammed against the tunnel wall.
“You can’t run this time, demon spawn,” the man spat, looming over me as he raised his sword.
“Leave her alone!” Tarra darted in front of me and grabbed at his arm. He shoved her off, sending her flying into the opposite wall where she collapsed with a moan.
“Tarra!” Pivoting forward, I slashed the dagger upward toward my attacker’s throat. He shot back with a hiss, the tip missing his chest by a hair’s breadth.
“Ooh, she has claws.” He laughed—a crazed, maniacal sound.
I lunged again, but his hand shot out, gripping my throat as he shoved me hard against the wall, sending my dagger spinning out of my grasp. Pain throbbed through my skull, and I clawed at his gloved hands, desperate for air.
“Aw, look at the poor little harpy squirm,” he gloated with a chuckle, releasing the pressure on my throat ever so slightly.
“Why?” I choked out.
“Why?” The assassin’s smile disappeared. His gold eyes—so similar, yet so different from Ryker’s—bore into mine, and he cut off my air supply again. “Of course you would have to ask why. You, the selfish, protected spawn of the Queen of Hell, wouldn’t know anything about the unjust slavery and ill treatment that plagues my people as you sit on your gilded throne, glutting yourself off the backs of those who should be ruling you.”
What in Lucifer’s name was he talking about? My mind spun, and my attempts to free myself weakened. He backhanded me across the face, and I crumpled into a heap on the ground. I gasped in deep lungfuls of air, my cheek burning.
The assassin leered over me with a grin. “But that will no longer be the case. By the divine power that flows through my veins, I hereby sentence you to death.” He raised his sword, and I scrambled backward on the dirt floor.
His muscles strained, and I clenched my eyes shut as his arms dropped, the sword slicing the air with ahiss.
The sword met its target with a dull thud and a sharp gasp.
I tore my eyes open, unable to comprehend the sight before me. The assassin and I both stared down wide eyed at his sword where it was embedded deep in Tarra’s chest.
“No!” A scream ripped from my throat, and I lunged forward, grabbing her as she collapsed to her knees with a whimper. The motion jarred the killer back to his senses as he heaved his sword backward. Tarra’s body jerked in my arms, her blood slick clothes painting me in red.
“No, Tarra, no please.” I sobbed, struggling to hold her to me. Her eyes darted around frantically as she struggled to take even one more raspy breath. “Don’t die,” I begged, pressing my shaking hands to her wound and fighting to connect with my divinity to heal her.
“Ka-leah.” Her beautiful blue eyes found mine as she tried to lift her hand before she offered one last gasp and the life left her eyes.
“Tarra!” I screamed, unable to comprehend that my sister was no longer there. That within a matter of heartbeats, she was gone. I gave her a slight shake, hoping, praying there was a chance. The movement dislodged an object from her hand, and only then did I realize what she’d been trying to give me—the dagger.
“Don’t be sad, little demon, you’ll be joining her soon,” the assassin mocked, raising his weapon once again as he sauntered toward us.
“No.” I lowered my sister’s body to the floor, accepting her last gift. Leaping forward with an inhuman growl, I rammed my shoulder into the killer. He stumbled backward, and I dropped into a crouch, kicking out at the back of his legs. His knees gave, and he collapsed with a howl. I pounced on his chest, shrieking my rage. I plunged the dagger toward his chest, but he knocked me aside, the tip barely ripping his tunic.
“You’ll pay for that,” he snarled, getting back to his feet.
Breathing hard, I scrambled backwards and threw the knife with every ounce of strength I possessed. Time seemed to slow, and my heart stopped as he ducked at the last minute, the dagger brushing past his cheek.