pocket.
“That’s a little knife,” he said, holding his own up and twirling it, showing off its size. It was curved, like a scimitar.
“Little knife for a little girl,” I answered, and threw it at him.
He didn’t move fast enough, and it sank into the top of his shoulder as he yelled. The kid sprang to his feet, but before I could feel any sort of relief for his escape, he launched himself at the mob-boss.
“Wait!” I started, then froze as I realized what he was doing. He yanked my knife from where it was deep in the guy’s flesh, avoiding the wild stabbings from the scimitar in the wailing man’s other hand. The kid moved fast, and my stomach lurched as he threw me a backwards glance, then ran.
“Shit!” I raced after him, ducking under the useless swipe from the bleeding mob-boss, and powering after the kid. There was no fucking way I was losing that knife. “Come back, you ungrateful little thief!” I bellowed, as he flew out of the other end of the alley, which I could now regretfully see was not a dead-end after all.
He banked sharply to the left, and I pivoted on the balls of my booted feet, chasing after him. There were more people on the streets here, colored lanterns casting soft light over the glittering walls, and the smells of meat wafting through the air. We were moving toward the bazaars.
I followed the kid through more twisting, turning streets, until we burst into one of the wide courtyards filled with fabric-covered stalls. Panic rushed through me as I took in the sheer number of people and places to hide. If I didn’t catch up to him soon, I would lose him - and my knife - for good.
“I saved your damned life, you shit!” I hollered, forcing more energy into my legs, turning up my speed. How was he so damned quick? Not many people could outrun me. The idea of losing my weapon, the only thing I’d managed to hold onto my whole life, the thing that had saved me countless times, was making anger build inside me, and my vision darker.
My eyes locked on the kid as he slowed down, reaching a three-way crossways between stalls. I watched as his body began to shift, his weight moving from one side to the other, and made a desperate guess at which way he was about to turn. I banked fast to my right, praying he was going to do the same. I could cut him off.
With a surge of speed I flew around the stall, and just as I’d hoped, he barreled straight into me, his head turned to search for me behind him. I swiped at his neck as he stumbled backwards, and he cried out as I gripped him. That familiar bolt of guilt ripped through me as I noticed the already red marks from the mob-boss’ fingers around his throat, but the red mist blocked it out.
“Give me my fucking knife back, now!” I roared, as I lifted him up. He was taller than me, but my grip was iron, and his feet scrabbled on the ground as he beat at my hand with his. “I can keep this up all night, kid. Give me back my property.” When purple began to tinge his face, he finally reached into his hareem pants pocket, and pulled out my flick-blade. I held out my other hand and he dropped it into my palm. I let go instantly. “I was trying to help you, and you stole from me. What gives?”
“I don’t need your help,” he croaked, backing away from me. eyes red.
“It kinda looked like you did, kid.”
“He was right. You’re not from round here,” he spat, then turned and raced away, into the crowd. I cocked my head after him. This place really was full of tough people.
No vigilantes required.
And still no friends for me.
“I’m pleased you recovered your knife without killing anyone.” Zeeva’s voice sounded in my head and I scanned the ground for her, spotting her prowling from behind a stall selling meat skewers.
“Why would I kill someone?” I answered her, shoving the flick-blade possessively into my pocket. “And why was he such a shit?”
“Even those with good in their hearts are different in the realm of war.”
“Huh. Well, I’m glad you’re here. I have no idea where I am.”
17
Bella
All the way back to the caravanserai I asked Zeeva questions, and all her answers were vague and unhelpful.
“As