Fate’s Edge (The Edge #3)(79)
Author: Ilona Andrews

And why exactly was that? He was good at what he did. The best thief, she’d said. The best swordsman, the sexiest man she’d ever met. The genius conman. Genius. She told him he was better than her father, for crying out loud. It wasn’t often a woman said something like that.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t provide for her. Not that he ever intended to marry, but if he did, his wife wouldn’t want for anything. He was a Mar, after all. Mars took care of their families.

Besides, if he ever did bring Audrey to his house, she wouldn’t stay home and bake pies. She would insist on going with him. Now that would be an unbeatable pairing. The things they could accomplish together . . . It was almost too tempting to contemplate. Not only did Audrey understand his schemes, but she could change direction on the fly. She had no trouble improvising under pressure, and say what you wanted about her aversion to violence, when push came to shove, she’d blow an enemy’s brains out. In their world, there would be no unlocked doors. It would be so much fun.

Kaldar pushed himself back from the rail. Unfortunately, their cooperation would end after they retrieved the diffuser bracelets. That was, after all, the goal of the whole exercise. Where would she go after this was over? Her old job and identity in the Broken were burned. She’d have to start fresh. And do it quietly, too. If they pulled this off, Helena d’Amry would make it her mission in life to hunt them down . . .

Kaldar froze.

His mind painted an image of Audrey, funny, beautiful Audrey, dead, hanging off a tree limb. Or worse, sliced to pieces. Or skinned alive. The anxiety punched him right in the gut with an icy fist. The Hand would kill Audrey. They would murder her. She was hellishly smart and slick, but the Hand simply had too many resources, and Audrey knew next to nothing about them.

Kaldar paced along the balcony. She would die. No more bright smiles. No more laughter. No more sly winks and wide-open eyes.

He lived in a bitter cold place, a deep darkness where he plotted revenge on the Hand for all their wrongs, past and future. Audrey was like a ray of sunshine in the middle of his night. She had lifted him out of the dark hole he had dug for himself into a place where he laughed, and his mirth and humor were genuine as long as she stayed around.

The Hand would crush that light.

He could live in a world where Audrey existed, even if it was far away from him. He was never fond of the idea of suffering nobly; still, he could resign himself to living without her if he knew that she was happy somewhere. The Hand would not take her from him. They had taken two-thirds of his family, they had killed Murid, and he would be damned if he let them butcher Audrey while he cowered in the shadows like a frightened dog with his tail between his legs.

He loved Audrey. The realization came to him, plain and simple. He would give anything to keep her safe. The only way to do that would be to know where she was at all times. If he had to marry her to keep her safe, he would marry her. He would be respectful and responsible and all the other things that turned his stomach. If he knew she would wake up next to him, safe and happy, it would be worth it.

Kaldar stopped pacing. It was decided, then. He would marry Audrey.

He just had to convince her to see things from his point of view.

THE church sat abandoned, its doors flung wide open. Helena marched through them, the rest of her team moving quietly behind her, afraid to make a sound. Inside, overturned benches and shattered wood greeted her. The sickening, cloying stench of decomposition hit her nostrils. A stage and a pulpit at the far end of the structure still smoked weakly, their wood charred to blackness. A twisted thing of jagged metal and melted rubber lay on its side on the right – one of the Broken’s vehicles, destroyed beyond recognition. The acrid, bitter reek of Cotier’s explosive darts emanated from it, and from another spot, farther to the left.

Her eyes picked out a dart lying on the floor. Another. Another. At least a dozen darts lay in a circle around a wet spot on the floor. A single dart packed enough charge to explode an average-size carriage.

Helena’s gaze slid up. Cotier’s body hung from the rafters, upside down. A large hole gaped in the crown of his head. A matching smaller hole pierced the back of his head near the neck. He must’ve seen the shot coming and curled up to avoid it. The bullet caught him in the back of the skull, scrambled his brain, and exploded out of his forehead. In the next hours, the brain matter and blood had dripped out of him onto the floor.

Helena looked down on the floor. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen darts. Any physical barrier would’ve been demolished. Only magic could withstand an assault of such magnitude. Someone in Kaldar Mar’s party could create a blisteringly potent flash shield.

Helena turned. A leg with telltale orange skin stuck out from behind a clump of benches. She approached. An orange body lay in two pieces, cleanly severed at a diagonal and peppered with dead flies, poisoned by the Mura’s toxic blood. The sword stroke – if that’s what this was – cleaved her from left shoulder, through the ribs, through the heart, through the stomach, and through the right side of her ribs. The cut was perfectly clean, the severed bones flat. Karmash had mentioned that the Mars possessed an ancient art of sword fighting, but this was beyond her experience. Swords didn’t do this.

Behind her, a foot scraped on the ground. She turned. Sebastian bowed his head. "You should see this, my lady."

She followed him to a break between the benches. A shapeless mass of flesh sat in the stretch of open floor, hidden from her view by the demolished vehicle. It resembled a pile of meat that had been shredded and dumped in a heap. Emily, her tracker, knelt by it, sampling the air.

"What is this?"

"I believe it’s Soma, my lady." Sebastian bowed his head.

"Did they put him through a meat grinder?"

"This was done by one person," Emily said. "A boy."

Helena knelt by her. "What makes you think this?"

"Only one scent with the body. Young scent. Male. And also this." Emily pointed at the floor. Two bloody shoe prints clearly visible. Sebastian put his foot next to them. The shoe print was an inch and a half shorter than his foot.

Helena rose and saw a giant headless body slumped against the far wall. A wrought-iron inch-wide beam protruded from his chest. It took her a moment to recognize it as one of the church’s candelabras.

Her magic whipped around her in a furious frenzy. Sebastian and Emily backed away. Helena whirled, her cloak flaring around her, and strode out of the church.

Sebastian trailed her.

"One man, a woman, and a boy against four operatives." Helena bit off words with diamond-cut precision. "Why are they still alive? Why don’t I have Kaldar’s head?"