only invade this deep into predatory changeling territory, but take down an Arrow honed by decades of active duty? He dropped down beside Yuri’s body, felt for a pulse with no real hope. The senior Arrow’s face was awash in blood, part of his skull blown off.
Jesus!
“He’s alive!”
An Arrow Alexei recognized as a trained medic slammed down beside him, already tearing off her jacket to stanch the bleeding.
Memory’s voice crashed into him at the same instant. “Abbot!” She hit the edge of the chaos, her chest heaving from her headlong run and her skirt like air around her. “Alexei, it’s got Abbot!”
Alexei snapped his head toward where he’d last seen the Arrow with black hair and searing blue eyes. Abbot had been grabbing Es and ’porting them out of danger, but now he stood with his weapon in his hand, and that weapon was pointed directly at a dark-eyed empath with a lovely oval face.
Jaya.
Alexei began to move, but he was too far away. He couldn’t knock the weapon out of Abbot’s hand faster than the man could activate it. Jaya held out her hands, palms up. “Abbot, habibi”—soft voice, no hesitation—“this isn’t you. Fight it. Use the bond that ties us together and fight it. I’m your wife. Your Jaya.”
As Alexei watched, a vein began to pulse in Abbot’s temple, sweat dripping down his face. His jaw clenched . . . and the gun began to change direction. Toward Abbot. All at once, Alexei knew who had taken out Yuri.
He was close enough now to slam his body into Abbot’s arm, but Abbot was a strong Arrow, and Alexei was a split second too late. The weapon went off.
Blood sprayed the air.
Jaya screamed, “NO!”
Her terror was grating claws on his skin, Abbot’s blood iron in his nose.
Memory ran past him in the direction of another Arrow—one who only stepped in for the odd security shift to keep her skills sharp. Elsewise, Cristabel was one of the squad’s most respected trainers. Right now, Cris was standing there, looking confused, doing nothing aggressive at all, but Alexei trusted Memory’s instincts. She’d been right about Abbot.
He took off in her wake, quickly passing her.
Cristabel was just reaching for her weapon when Alexei got to her. He knocked her out with an uppercut to the jaw. He was careful to pull the punch because Psy bones were weaker than changeling. Cristabel went down, but she was very much alive.
“Incapacitate yourselves and each other!” he yelled at the Arrows. “You are the threat!”
The black-clad men and women were used to making split-second decisions, and they’d witnessed both Abbot’s and Cristabel’s inexplicable behavior. One by one, they took one another down until only one was left. Amin, who’d incapacitated multiple of his brethren with quick efficiency, nodded at Alexei to do the same to him. But his eyes changed even as Alexei moved, a strange blankness coming over them.
His weapon was in his hand a heartbeat later.
Rather than pointing it at Alexei, he pointed it at an empath crouched on the grass, her hands over her ears as she whimpered and rocked back and forth. Alexei had only one choice. To put himself in between Amin and the E. He did so without hesitation . . . just as Amin collapsed.
Memory dropped the large rock she’d used to whack the Arrow over the back of the head. Eyes of pure obsidian caught Alexei’s. “It’s hunting us.”
Chapter 31
The Es and the Arrows are a unit.
—Zaira Neve to Ivy Jane Zen
AS ALEXEI MOVED toward the fallen form of Jaya’s beloved Abbot, Memory looked back toward Yuri. He was gone. Nerida must’ve teleported him out before she took herself out of the equation.
Jaya and Alexei were with Abbot.
Heart an agonized knot, Memory jolted herself toward Cordelia. Her movements were no longer those of a clockwork creature after over three weeks of healing, but today’s violence was a hammer beating at her skull.
Dropping down beside Cordelia’s whimpering body, Memory put her arms around her friend’s soft, curvy form and rocked with her. “The darkness is gone,” she reassured her in a firm tone. “It couldn’t hold on to the Arrows. It’s gone.”
Cordelia ducked her head, tucking herself against Memory’s chest, as if Memory were the taller one. Memory kept on rocking her even as she watched Alexei tear off his T-shirt and fold it into a rough pad to press against Abbot’s neck. The bullet had hit the side of that neck just above his jacket collar; blood gushed,