For starters, my reputation would be totally ruined. Secondly, I wasn’t ready to die. Not when I had things to explore with Cyrus. Things I hadn’t felt in many years.
I gave a quick look around the room for a means of escape. There wasn’t much. There seemed to only be one way in or out of the place, and that was the front door. London lived in an apartment with no windows, unless she was hiding one in the bedroom, and I didn’t feel like fighting in there to find out. So, the door was my best bet. It wasn’t too far away from me, but there were still enough people blocking the entrance to make it seem miles away. Yet, it was my only shot. If I could get away from this room, then I could get to another floor and get the hell out of here.
I faced the nearest cultist between me and the door and narrowed my eyes. Time to play hardball. “Non puoi respirare,” I told him. He dropped to the floor, face turning purple. It wasn’t a nice spell, cutting off someone’s oxygen like that, but these people weren’t exactly trying to be my pals. Maybe they’d start expending their magic trying to help their friends.
I looked at the next person and did the same thing. Unfortunately, the flood of bodies didn’t seem to ebb. Someone punched me in the back of the head hard enough that I saw stars. I dropped immediately to the floor next to my victims, and as my spells broke they began gasping for breath. It hadn’t been long enough for them to die. I suppose that’s a good thing. Probably. My father once would have said it is.
I shook my head to clear the cobwebs but didn’t have time to try the spell again. Someone else tried to grab me. I smacked their hand away, but this time a cultist grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to my feet. I hissed in pain as they pulled me back from the door. And I had made so little headway!
Suddenly the door to the apartment flew open and Cyrus joined the fray, punching the two nearest cultists in the face, who both dropped to the floor, blood spraying from their shattered noses. It distracted the man holding me enough that I could kick backward, hitting his knee. He howled in pain and let go of my hair.
“It’s about time you got here,” I said to Cyrus, fighting my way toward him.
“I had to come from the floor below. Had to run up the stairs, and I’m hopelessly out of shape,” he puffed. He reached out for the nearest Dragon cultist, a man unsheathing a knife, and snapped his neck. Hard-core. Who knew that Cyrus could be this dangerous? Fighting evil men like this, he was such a warrior. It was so hot.
He reached out to grab my arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Wait, London,” I turned back trying to find her in the crowd. I couldn’t leave her there, even if she did try to serve me up the Dragon’s people. She had been trying to protect her family. “London!” I couldn’t find her anywhere; she must have bailed out of there the moment the Dragon’s people showed up. Someone tried to grab my arm, but I just managed to evade. I pushed the attacker into the others, and a large mob of them fell down. Cyrus yanked me hard, and I stumbled along behind. We burst into the hall.
“Wait!” I pointed to the open door. “Bruciate,” I whispered. It burst into flame.
Cyrus pulled me again, and we reached the fire alarm in the hallway. He yanked the handle down, and alarms started going off everywhere. People started peeking out into the hallway, clearly scared of the noises from London’s apartment but more scared of burning to death. Sprinklers went off overhead. Cyrus and I took advantage of the chaos to head for the stairwell.
“After them!” I heard the woman from the hallway shriek.
“This is one trap you should have left alone,” Cyrus grumbled as we ran down the stairs, pushing other occupants of the apartment building out of our way. One glance back proved that several Dragon cultists were hot on our heels.
“I promise I won’t walk into any more traps after this.”
Cyrus flung open the door to the lower floor and we rushed through. The air suddenly felt less heavy, lighter.
“We’re clear of the antitransport