Free Captive by Sarah Fine Page B

from another clip on his belt. He’d been bitten and scratched enough times to make this his first order of business. “I apologize for interrupting your romantic liaison, but there’s a matter of extreme urgency that I wish to discuss with you.”
    Sil cursed and tried to jerk away, but he was trapped, and he knew it. “Kill me now. I have nothing to talk to you about.”
    “We’ll see.” With his knee still braced against Sil’s back, Malachi leaned over and cut the pretty blonde Mazikin’s throat. He closed his eyes as her blood flowed, fighting the sorrow that always hit him when he killed the young, the fragile. It was worth it, though, especially for the ones who seemed so innocent. In his mind, he imagined this girl’s soul flying up from the hellish Mazikin realm — free, ecstatic, light as air. He whispered his prayer, the only one he could remember, the only way he could put that wish into words: Adonai hu nachalatam v’yanuchu b’shalom al mish’kabam v’nomar, amen.
    Sil was giggling, and something about it sent a steely shock of rage through Malachi’s chest. This creature had probably been the one to tie the girl to the altar. He had probably been the one to summon one of his sisters to rip the girl’s soul from her body. He had been the one to use her body for his own pleasure. Malachi grabbed Sil by the hair and banged his forehead against the step, which stopped the laughing abruptly. He lifted Sil by the scruff of the neck and guided the dazed Mazikin up the steps and out into the endless night of the dark city.
    Sil made a few pathetic attempts to escape on the way to the Station, but his speed was no advantage when Malachi had such a good grip on him. The belt Sil had stolen from Issam was ideal for this purpose. When Sil went limp, Malachi simply dragged him by the thick leather strap until the Mazikin got too uncomfortable to do anything but walk. “I’ll choose a bigger body next time,” he growled.
    Malachi gritted his teeth. It was an unfortunate side effect of killing a Mazikin — it freed them to return and possess a different body. “You did that last time, remember? It didn’t help you very much.” Sil had possessed the body of a man the size of a Sumo wrestler, but he’d been so slow that it had been easy for the Guards to collar him. That defeat was probably why he’d instructed his family to select a speedy, streamlined body for him this time.
    Sil cackled. “That’s the beauty of second chances. And third and fourth and fifth ones. I thank you for that, Malachi .” He spat the name like it tasted foul sliding off his tongue. Malachi wished they’d never learned it, that they only knew him as a nameless Guard. After so many years, though, his conflict with the Mazikin had become personal to some of them. Juri, especially. If any of them ever defeated him, it would probably be Juri, who seemed to hate him more every time he came back. Malachi couldn’t blame him. Juri was the only being he’d ever enjoyed killing. He wished there were some way to make it permanent.
    He marched Sil up the steps to the Station. Rais greeted him at the door, smelling of the streets. He’d probably just returned from a patrol himself. “Captain.” He bowed his head respectfully.
    “Please take Sil to a holding cell.” He handed the Mazikin over to the enormous Guard. “I’ll be back to interrogate him shortly. Tell the Guards on duty to watch him closely.”
    Rais nodded and led Sil away. Malachi knew he should interrogate him immediately, but he needed to step away. He had to clear his head — it wouldn’t do to kill the Mazikin too quickly, before he had a chance to find out what the creatures were planning. It would get ugly. Sil would refuse to talk. Which meant Malachi would have to hurt him. It always left him with a hollow ache in his gut, staring at the blood on his cold, steady hands.
    Before he was aware of it, he was climbing the stairs to the roof. He emerged