meant there were at least two of them.
The runner looked at the man standing over me, turned, and sprinted away. My protector glanced down at me over his shoulder, starting to speak, and a thwap sound punctured the air.
He cursed, dropping low behind the column and duckwalking until he was crouched next to me. “Shit, that stings,” he muttered, looking down at his bicep with irritation. There was a bullet hole in his jacket sleeve, but almost no blood.
Pain was screaming for my attention, but I forced myself to focus on his face. It was the trumpet player from the band . . . Cole, that was his name.
My breath was coming in shallow pants, but I managed to say, “Maven?”
Cole nodded. “She asked me to keep an eye on you, although I wasn’t expecting to get quite this involved. You shot?”
My back hurt like a motherfucker, but I’d been shot before. This didn’t feel like that. “Don’t think so. Pain is . . . wrong. You see the sniper?”
He ducked his head past the brick pillar for a second, then pulled it back. There were a couple of small coughing sounds—bullets hitting the other side of the column. “He’s on the roof of an apartment building on Grant, but he’s wearing a mask,” Cole reported. “All I see’s the glint of metal.”
I started to speak, but he held up a finger, listening intently. He ducked his head out again, and this time there were no more shots. “The sniper is running,” he said. “I can just see his silhouette moving.”
“Go after him!”
He turned his head and grinned, white teeth flashing at me. “Girl, that is not what you want me to do.” He pointed to my cheekbone. “I fed well tonight, but any of the others come out and smell that blood, we’re gonna have a riot.”
I didn’t understand what he meant until I gingerly touched my cheek and my hand came back bloody. I’d cut it open on the pavement. Looking down, I saw the blood had dripped onto my shirt and jacket. “Fuck.”
Cole reached into his pocket and held out an actual handkerchief. I accepted it with my right hand and pressed it against the cut. “Let me see your back,” he commanded.
Too hurt to argue, I rolled onto my right side, allowing him to lift up the back of my jacket and shirt. He whistled. “Damn.”
“What?”
“Bullet hit dead center of that knife I gave you. Damned lucky shot.”
He was right, although at the moment it didn’t feel very lucky—the blade must have dented inward, because as I moved I felt it digging into me. “Take the knife out of the sheath,” I urged, and Cole complied. I sighed with relief when the pressure lifted.
He held up the dagger, and I could see exactly where the bullet had plowed into the metal, right in the center, where the blade had been strapped flat against my spine. Jesus. That shot probably wouldn’t have killed me—at least, not permanently—but I might have been paralyzed for life.
Or just long enough for the second shooter to run up and finish me off. Whoever this was had been ready for a boundary witch.
“We should get out of here before anyone else smells the blood,” Cole said. “Can you walk?”
“Sure. Walk, fly, whatever you want.” I started to climb to my feet, but my thinking wasn’t straight yet, and I yelped as I unintentionally put weight on my left wrist again. I fell back onto my butt, leaning against the brick column and cradling my hand. I didn’t think I was concussed, but I had a hell of a headache radiating inward from my cheekbone. My left eye had cleared of tears, but things still looked a little fuzzy out of the other one.
“Shit,” Cole muttered. “Just stay there a minute.”
That sounded like such an excellent plan that I went one further and allowed my eyes to close.
A moment later, Cole said, “I need you to get to the arch entrance right now.”
I opened my eyes and saw him pocketing a cell phone. “Who did you call?” I asked in alarm.
“Beau.”
“I don’t want—”
He cut me off. “Too late.”
I followed his gaze down the path leading deeper into the cemetery. Beau had just emerged from the shadows. He must’ve run at vampire speed, because he dropped down beside me before my eyes could focus on him. His nostrils flared, but he ignored the bloody handkerchief. “What happened?” he asked, looking at Cole.
I was a