He held his light up to her face. "What's she doing here?"
A young guardsman with a chubby face said, "Maybe she heard a noise and came to check it out."
"She ain't supposed to be breathing anymore," the first said. "This is all screwed up."
"What's screwed up?" a voice asked from the doorway.
Josey was perplexed by this bizarre behavior, but calmed as Markus entered the room. He looked so gallant in his prefect's uniform that for an instant she felt the tiniest bit jealous he was betrothed to Anastasia, but the feeling passed as she focused on the here and now. She grunted through the gag and shook her bound hands.
The first man pointed at her with the point of his sword. "He didn't kill her. He just left her trussed up."
"So I see." Markus came over to the bed. "Where's the assassin?"
"He wasn't here," the guardsman with the lantern replied.
Markus smacked his hands together. "Damn! Epps and Lauk, go search the yard. Whistle if you see anything."
As the two soldiers dashed out, the lantern-holder said to Markus, "We could make this one look the same as the other."
Markus nodded to the first man. "Take care of it, but make it fast."
Josey tried to wriggle free once more, but the soldier straddled her hips and yanked back hard on her hair. She screamed as a blade's edge pressed against her exposed neck.
"No!
Josey shook with relief as the blade stopped. A large tear ran down the length of her nose.
"Not here," Markus said. "Take her back to her own room."
What were they doing? Josey tried to shout, but the air whooshed from her lungs as the guardsman hefted her onto his shoulder. The room spun; the tableau of her dead father flashed before her eyes. She sobbed as her captor headed toward the door.
Then, the room exploded into violence.
From Josey's vantage point it appeared that the shadows along the wall came alive and attacked the man standing by the window. He fell to his knees, his face as pale as a bedsheet. A ribbon of blood spilled from his open mouth. Markus drew his sword. A silvery blur flashed. Markus fell to the carpet, bleeding from a gaping cut across his throat. Josey's bearer dropped her without warning. She landed hard on her hip. A moment later, the man gasped before joining her on the floor with a ghastly wound where his nose had been.
Josey curled into a tight ball and squeezed her eyes shut. This can't be happening! But it was. She rocked and prayed for the nightmare to end.
It was over as quickly as it began. Silence fell over the chamber, except for the crackle of the hearth embers. Josey yelped as powerful hands lifted her into the air. She imagined a knife blade sinking toward her bosom, its red tip eager to end her life. The room spun between the cracked slits of her eyelids, and a cool breeze rustled the hem of her nightgown.
The window! The beast was abducting her. She squirmed to get away. She clawed with both hands. One of her kicks landed squarely and the killer paused. Fingers grasped her hair. Then, a terrible pain shot through her skull and her sight dimmed.
A cold wind caressed Josey's face as she floated through a gray-black world of shadows lit by a smiling, silver moon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
aim's insides trembled as he stole across the midnight lawn. It was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking. Five members of the Sacred-fucking-Brotherhood lay in a High Town mansion, dead by his hand, and a plethora of questions raced through his head. Most of them concerned the limp, sweet-smelling form slung over his shoulder.
He regretted dashing the girl's head against the wall, but she had been wriggling so hard he thought she might pitch them both out the window. Anyway, it gave him some much-needed silence to think. He climbed over the gate and dropped into the alley behind the house with a grunt. The girl stirred, but did not waken. He couldn't help noticing her long legs under the flimsy nightgown and the soft breasts pressed against his shoulder. With a sigh, Caim shifted her weight and started hiking.
As he crept down the dark alley, he considered the carnage he'd left behind. He had run into his share of crooked lawmen in his time, but he had never seen any operate as boldly as the soldiers inside. They had been downright cocky. How had they gotten there