The sound of running steps began to echo from the tunnel we’d just left. The Razan were coming. The Raziq were probably on their way, too. I licked my lips, my heart racing as Azriel withdrew the sword and started cutting again lower.
Valdis’s screaming continued to fill the air, her fire flicking across the darkness, sending blue shadows dancing up the slick brick walls. When the second cut was as long as the first, Azriel withdrew the sword, raised a foot, and kicked at the metal. The bars went flying, clattering noisily against the opposite wall. A shout came from one of the men in the tunnel and the sound of their steps grew faster.
"Go," Azriel said, turning to face me. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down the edge of his face.
I shoved the book down the front of my top, then grabbed the bars above the cut and swung through feetfirst. My wounded leg brushed one edge and pain rolled through me. Gasping, I stumbled forward, going down on one knee, my hands disappearing into the thick slime lining the floor as I tried to stop my fall.
"Don’t move!" a voice said from the tunnel doorway.
I looked up and saw a blond Razan burst into the main tunnel. I saw the gun in his hands, already raised. I saw him pull the trigger.
I threw myself sideways, but it was too late. Far too late … only suddenly I was jerked roughly to the right and there was a body standing between me and that bullet.
As Azriel’s arms wrapped around me, I felt him jerk. Then energy surged and we were on the gray fields. This time the trip was short and sharp, and darkness still encased us when we reappeared.
We hit the ground together and sprawled forward, landing with some force against a surface that was hard and cold. For several seconds neither of us moved. Azriel’s weight pressed me against the cold concrete, making it difficult to breathe. Not that I really cared; I was too busy listening to the silence, smelling the damp and the cold, and wondering where the hell we were.
"Not clear yet," Azriel stated as his weight lifted off me.
There was an edge in his voice that made me frown. "Meaning we’re still in the tunnels?"
"Yes." He pushed upright. "Are you all right?"
"I’ll survive." I rolled onto my back and accepted his offered hand. His warm flesh was slick—not with moisture or slime, but with blood.
"You’ve been shot?" I said, watching the blood pour from his wounded shoulder as he hauled me up. "How the hell can a reaper get shot?"
"When I’m in flesh form, I can be damaged." He shrugged.