Free The Shadow Realm (The Age of Dawn Book 4) by Everet Martins Page B

whirling.
    There was a creak from a house across the street, stopping the breath in her throat. One creak could’ve sounded like any other, but somehow she knew it was made by someone trying to stay quiet. New beads of sweat bristled from her neck and trickled down the middle of her back. She wanted to scratch it, but embraced the Dragon instead. Its ferocity was calming, knowing she could protect herself well enough.
    She strained with every muscle to listen through the house’s windows, wincing at the slight hissing coming through her nose. It was taunting her, forcing her to wait for the threat to emerge. Someone said something near her and it was just noise in her ears. She knew it was there. Her heart was ringing so hard in her head it felt like it might push her eyes out of her skull. She tried to crouch down into the cobbles, blading her body and making herself a smaller target. Her eyes were fixed on an opened window, dark inside.
    Another groan came from the wood and Nyset’s fingers flared with fire. Burning discs sprung to life around her head, crackling and smoking in the mist. Her fingers pressed into her palms and the warmth of the Dragon spread up her arms.
    There was another creaking step. She took a long, stinging breath, her chest filling out with it. Time stretched on and on. How much longer would it take for him to reveal himself?
    The boards and nails groaned, rubbing together. A crossbow slid into view, the bolt gleaming death. A head followed, black and hooded. Yellow eyes burned like coals in the swimming blackness. The eyes found hers and spread apart like evening moons.
    She grinned and her discs had already bridged half the distance. One chopped below the window through the wall where its body should have been. The other cut through its dark face, releasing a squawk. The top half of its head rolled over the windowsill, painting it with a wide streak of blood. The crossbow followed, clattering on the stones. The bolt loosed into the sky with a twang.
    Time came rushing back, screams roaring in her ears. She realized it was her own voice. She let out the rest of her air and let the Dragon melt from her chest. Claw and Senka were on the ground.
    Senka cowered away from her, shielding her eyes, robes streaked with dust. “Please, Mistress.”
    “Pretty.” Claw murmured, still clutching Senka’s wrist and staring at Nyset.
    Nyset strode towards the house’s door, parted open. What would have Bezda done? She had to make an example of assassins. She kicked open the door and turned left at the foyer. The small entry room stunk with mold and the walls were coated in dust. Shafts of light cut crosshatches through the gloom between the wall boards.
    She found the body of the Skin Flayer there, slumped back at the wall opposite the window. The top half of its head smoked with exposed brain matter. She wrinkled her nose and held her breath, keeping the stench from further infiltrating her nostrils. Air sucked from the hissing slice in its chest. She reached under its arms, dragging it to the door. It was heavy, straining her upper back and burning her legs as she dragged it out into the street. She fought not to gag, dropping it beside its brethren. Its fingers absurdly intertwined in its lap as if in deep conversation.
    She wanted to say something, but found her voice wasn’t working. She put the back of her hand against her mouth and gasped at seeing it was covered in blood, not hers. She spat and wiped her arm on the back of her sleeve, tongue prickling with the taste of rotten meat.
    Nyset was supposed to be a stately picture, surrounded by mystique. She felt like a drowned cat, one who had almost been slain by an assassin’s bolt. Her silks clung to her body, soaked all the way through. She was showing more of her form than she felt comfortable with in public. Thunder rumbled and roared through her chest, followed by a spark of lightning cutting through the sky. The clouds were getting on with it