I frowned and said, "Azriel —" at the exact same time as he said, Risa, hide. Someone just magicked into the building.
I swore. Where?
The office on the other side of the pit trap.
And there was no cover near, and nothing else but those rat-infested offices. I dove into the first one, sending rats scattering just as the far doorway opened. I twisted around, and saw a shadowed figure step out.
Amaya snarled, the sound soft but nevertheless echoing. Shut it, I told her fiercely, and flame out.
She grumbled, but obeyed. The shadow paused and seemed to be looking our way, although it was a little hard to tell given the ink around us. After a moment, he moved on, his stride long and lithe. Shifter, I thought, for no logical reason. He certainly didn't smell like one – although that didn't really mean that much in an age of scent-erasing soap. But he obviously didn't smell me, either, and most shifters would have.
He strode past the pit trap, seemingly headed toward the shadowed corner. He wasn't the sorcerer – his build was far too short and stocky – but if he was going to use whatever lay hidden by those stones, then he was someone we needed to talk to.
Do it fast, Azriel commented. He may be shorter than you, but he'll be stronger.
Like I didn't realize that. The shifter drew closer and tension wound through my limbs, until my legs were quivering with the need to move, to attack. I waited until he'd passed the office in which I'd hidden, then rose and ran after him, as quickly and as silently as I could.
He sensed me and pivoted, lashing out with a booted foot. The blow was so fast it was little more than a blur. I twisted away, and his heel scraped across my hip rather than burying itself in my stomach. I flipped Amaya so that I was holding blade rather than hilt, and swung her hard. The blow caught him high in the forearm and knocked him sideways. He swore, the sound guttural, almost incoherent, but caught his balance all too swiftly and launched at me. I caught a brief glimpse of his features as I spun away, and realized with a sinking sensation exactly what I was dealing with. He wasn't a shifter, or even a Razan, but rather another of those beings who'd been twisted by magic. He just didn't feel as wrong as his brethren. Maybe our sorcerer was getting the hang of perverting the souls of others.
I ducked under another leap but this time he anticipated the move, somehow twisting in midair to crash body-first into me. I landed on my back with a grunt, briefly winded, my arms and legs tangled in his. I swore, pulled an arm free, and chopped down with Amaya. Her hilt smashed into his shoulder and something cracked. He howled, the sound one of fury and pain combined, and lashed out with an elbow. The blow struck my chin hard enough to rattle teeth, and for a moment I saw stars.
Amaya hissed in fury, a sound I could only echo. I bucked, trying to get him off me, but I might as well have tried moving a ton of bricks. He laughed and grabbed at my arms, managing to pin one to the grimy concrete, his breath thick and fetid as it washed across my face. He may not have smelled bad on the outside, but he was definitely rotting inside.
I bucked again, this time lifting him high enough to get my knees under him. I thrust him up and over my head, then scrambled to my feet and lunged toward him. Though still on the ground, he spun, one leg sweeping out, trying to hook mine. I leapt over it and landed, knees first, in the middle of his gut. As air exploded from his lungs, I smashed my fist into his chin with as much force as I could muster. His head snapped sideways and his body went limp. He was out cold.
I blew out a relieved breath, but didn't immediately climb to my feet. Azriel, can you read him from a distance?
Normally yes, but this creature's soul and mind have been twisted by magic. I need contact.