Tooth and Nail Page 11

  The man twisted like I’d never seen a human twist before. One moment he was darting along, the next he had one foot planted against the wall and he was spinning toward me. The sudden movement caught me off guard. I never saw the blow coming.

  His thin pipe whipped across my face. Fiery pain ripped through my cheek. My neck snapped around and my truncheon swing went wide, smashing into the wall and sending slivers of stone raining to the floor. I stumbled and would have fallen if the wall hadn’t caught me. Stars clouded my vision once again.

  Instinctively, I lifted my truncheon to defend against a second strike, but it never came. I shook my head violently, trying to clear the fog from my mind. The pain in my cheek didn’t dull, but my vision cleared enough for me to make out the man’s shape in the dim orange light.

  My attempted attack had barely slowed him. He darted toward the back of the cave, toward Kor. The only reason he hadn’t reached him already was the low ceiling—though the man was shorter than me, even he had to crouch low as he raced toward Kor.

  The vodyanoy had shoved aside the crates and junk that were blocking his exit. He squeezed into the tiny fissure in the rock, trying to make his escape. But despite how small and slippery he was, he was having trouble squeezing into a space that tight. Half of him still protruded from the fissure, limbs flailing as he tried to scramble deeper.

  As the dark-haired man closed the distance, he brought his dagger forward to strike.

  I reached toward the nearest makeshift shelf and closed my fingers around an old, moldy wine bottle, the label long since faded away.

  I hurled the bottle like I was throwing a javelin. It whistled through the air and connected with the back of the man’s skull with a hollow thunk.

  Savage glee surged through me as the man stumbled. The bottle clattered to the stone floor, blood staining the base. Before it had gone still, I was throwing myself at the man.

  He spun again, sensing my attack, but he was slower this time. The bottle had hit him hard enough to stun him, at least for a second.

  He whipped the pipe toward me. I caught the blow on my arm. A new wave of searing pain roared up my forearm, but I pushed it aside and threw my full weight into his midsection.

  We slammed into the wall of makeshift shelving, sending crockery smashing to the stone floor. The man gasped, his eyes bulging as the wind went out of him. We hit the ground together in a heap.

  Glancing up, I saw Kor finally squeeze entirely into the fissure at the back of the cave. The darkness swallowed him.

  The dark-haired man drove a knee into my gut and tried to swing the pipe at my head again. Grunting, I caught the pipe in my free hand and brought my truncheon down hard on his outstretched arm.

  Bone cracked, the sickening sound echoing in the cavern. The man’s arm twisted unnaturally. A single, pained word passed his lips.

  “Radsk!”

  The word caught me by surprise. I hesitated just as I was about to bring the truncheon down on him again. My eyes darted across his features, seeing them in a new light.

  The man’s other hand twitched and I felt a pinch in my right shoulder. A moment later, searing agony roared outward from the same spot.

  He twisted, throwing me off him as the sudden pain left me reeling. I landed heavily on the stone floor, my truncheon slipping from my grip as my muscles tightened, pulling my hand into a claw.

  I glanced down. There was a slit in my shirt over my right shoulder. A little blood stained the damp, white fabric. Beside me, also dotted with blood, lay the curved knife that the dark-haired man had been wielding.

  The man scrambled to his feet, clutching his broken arm. He darted over to the fissure that the vodyanoy had disappeared into, ducking down low as the ceiling dropped even further. He peered inside and tried to squeeze in as well. No use. With a snarl, he thumped his good fist against the rock and spun back toward me.

  The blinding pain in my arm had left me viewing everything from a distance. As the man’s eyes locked with mine, though, I came to my senses. I tried to grab my fallen truncheon with my claw hand, but my fingers wouldn’t loosen. I rolled half onto my side, grabbed the weapon with my left hand, and began to stagger to my feet.

  The man sprinted past me, glaring at me one last time as he pressed his injured arm to his chest.

  Then, without slowing, he dived into the dark water.

  I stumbled to the water’s edge, truncheon raised awkwardly in my left hand. The man’s shadow slipped beneath the surface and headed back toward the river. He didn’t emerge again.

  My biceps screamed in agony. My right arm began to bend at the elbow, despite my best efforts to hold it straight. All my arm muscles were contracting at once, like I was gripping a live wire. The pain was already spreading to my chest.

  I swayed on the spot, trying to clear the fog of agony that kept sweeping my thoughts away.

  Had to think. Had to act.

  I staggered back to the spot where I’d fallen. After a couple of attempts, I managed to hook my truncheon to my belt. Stooping, I snatched up the dropped knife. A trace of dark fluid still clung to the recesses in the blade.

  What was the poison? I had to think. The burning pain, the muscle contraction, the taste in my mouth—like a combination of stone and aluminum…

  Lover’s Embrace. A nice name for a terrible poison. It would spread quickly. In minutes I’d be paralyzed. Hallucinations would follow. Not long after that, it would go to work on my chest. It would be a race between heart and lungs to see which would fail first.

  It was already too late to try to draw the poison out. Too late to call for help. By the time Early got here, I’d be room temperature.

  I needed a counter-spell. An antidote. Could I make one with what I had with me? Maybe. I just needed my…

  My bag. My bag, sitting somewhere up above me, among the roots at the base of the old tree. Through dark, muddy waters.

  I stared down at the water for a moment. It stared back at me. Then, taking a deep breath, I dived in.

  17

  The shock of the cold water made the pain in my arm flare. My shoulder muscles seemed to contract even tighter. My head was being pulled to the right by the tightness in my neck. I started swimming as best I could, but my right leg was starting to freeze up as well.

  I’d only gone a couple of feet before I realized I’d left the glow stick behind. Too late to go back for it. Its orange glow faded as the walls of the fissure closed in tight around me. Darkness reigned.

  My head scraped the top of the tight opening. Taking a deep breath, I dived back down beneath the water and swam blindly on, my left arm paddling wildly to make up for its paralyzed twin. I bumped against the sides again and again. Each time, the sudden jarring brought the pain to ever higher levels of agony.

  When my lungs started to burn, I broke the surface and found the ceiling high enough to keep my head above water. I couldn’t see a damn thing now. The air was heavy with the smell of damp earth. The painful pounding of my own heart thudded loud in my ears.

  How much further was it? Panic started to set in.

  It occurred to me that the dark-haired man could be waiting for me. Maybe he was here in the water with me, or maybe he was outside, ready to strike as soon as I emerged.

  It didn’t matter. Either way I was dead. All I could do was pray that his broken arm was enough to send him scurrying away to safety. Maybe he’d even assume that the poison would kill me long before I could do anything about it.

  I swam on and on. The weight of my waterlogged clothes and my truncheon were pulling me down. Even the muscles that hadn’t yet been affected by the poison were burning with the effort of keeping me above the surface. With every gulp of air I got a mouthful of muddy water as well.

  As the darkness stretched out in front of me, I found myself thinking of Kor. I hoped the vodyanoy had got away. All he’d wanted to do was mind his own business. He didn’t deserve to die to an assassin’s blade. Who the hell would look after his c
hina collection then?

  Light. At first I thought I was imagining it—some hallucination triggered by the pain and the poison making its way through my body.

  I dragged my damp sleeve across my eyes and blinked a few times. I wasn’t imagining it. Light. It illuminated the wall of the fissure ahead of me, revealing the winding path to the exit.

  Nearly there, I told myself. Keep going.

  I could barely hear my own thoughts over the pain. I swam anyway, desperation pushing me on.

  My chest felt like someone had pulled a corset tight around my ribs. My right leg was little more than dead weight now. Swimming was all but impossible, so instead I scrambled along the side of the narrow tunnel with my left hand, pulling myself along with the help of roots emerging from the soil around me.

  I turned a corner and found myself staring at the opening to the river. The brilliant light sent hope surging through my heart. I pulled myself along the last few feet and out into the fresh air.

  A cold wind bit at my damp skin. I paused for a moment in the shelter of the reeds and tree roots, waiting for an ambush. Turning in place, I looked across the surface of the river and up to the tree looming over me. The dark-haired man was nowhere to be seen.

  Instead, I found another obstacle staring at me. The steep, muddy riverbank. Just looking at it swept all hope from my heart. It wasn’t that high, really. Maybe a little over four feet. It looked like a mountain from where I was floating.

  I clambered into the shallows, dragging my paralyzed leg and arm behind me. I would have looked ridiculous to anyone watching—but there wasn’t, of course. Not a single dinghy was out on the river, and I was out of sight of the town itself.

  I was utterly alone.

  With my left hand, I grabbed hold of the sturdiest root I could see stretching down from the tree. Taking a pained breath, I started to haul myself up the bank.

  I got about six inches out of the water before my one good foot slipped on the muddy bank. I splashed back into the river shallows. Mud splattered across my face and chest.

  Panting, I turned and slid down into the water, my back against the bank. I was taking short, shallow breaths to try to minimize the pain in my chest. Despite my best efforts, I could no longer keep the fingers of my left hand straight. They began to curl down toward my palm.

  I lay back and looked up at the sky. It’d come out a pretty nice day, considering how miserable it had been last night. Wispy white clouds drifted lazily across the surface of the sun. Better weather than the last time I’d died, at least.

  “So that’s it?” came a voice. “You’re just giving up?”

  I lowered my gaze. A woman was standing next to me, the water up to her knees. She was whip-thin and black-haired. Her hands rested on her narrow hips, and she stared at me with a look that was somehow both intense and casual at the same time.

  “Lilian,” I said. “That’ll be the hallucinations kicking in, I suppose.”

  She didn’t have anything to say to that. Hell, maybe I wasn’t even hallucinating. Maybe I’d already passed out, and this was a dream. That might explain why I could still speak.

  I suppose it made sense that my poisoned brain would bring Lilian to mind, here at the end. This had all started because of her, after all. If it hadn’t been for me trying to uncover the truth of Lilian’s past—her life and death, all those years ago—I never would’ve gotten so chummy with the vampires. I never would’ve come here, to Doyle’s Reach, in search of a vodyanoy. I wouldn’t be sitting here, water nearly up to my chest, waiting for my heart to give out.

  Lilian cocked her head to the side, appraising me with hawk-like eyes. Even in phantasmal form, her gaze was too piercing to meet directly.

  I used to, though, didn’t I? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held her gaze. Not since the tomb of Morley the Profane. Not since I found that picture of her in an old locket that had been buried away. Why was it so hard now? Why did it feel like there was a gulf between us whenever we met up, whenever we talked? Why did it feel like no matter how close I tried to get, she was always moving in the other direction, looking back at me?

  I supposed it didn’t really matter anymore. They were questions I should’ve asked before. Now, it was too late. I looked up at the sky again, watching the slow shifting of the clouds.

  “Get your ass out of the mud,” Lilian said. “Get climbing.”

  “Think I’ll just stay here,” I said.

  “You’ve still got a job to do, big guy. Up and at ’em.”

  “Look at me, Slim. I ain’t going anywhere.”

  She pursed her lips. I noticed that although the water was up to her knees, it didn’t seem to soak through her jeans. She didn’t have a spot of mud on her.

  “You know what will happen if you die,” she said. “The vampires and the ogres won’t be able to help themselves.”

  I shook my head—or tried to at least. “Early can finish the job. Someone will find me here eventually. Early will figure out what killed me. That’ll give him what he needs.” I paused. “He’s better at this sort of thing anyway. He believes in it. This town. His duty. He’s a good man.”

  “You’re a good man.”

  “No. No, not really. It’s not in my nature.”

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  “It’s true,” I said. “You want to know when I was most at ease with myself? When I was Osric Turner in his purest form? It was when I was down in the Mines all those years ago, going after the goblins that had taken my brother. Hunting them through the dark. A witch, a killer, vengeful and angry and powerful. That was me. The real me.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Only because I don’t let it. I have to try so hard. I have to work at it every single day.”

  She eyed me silently for a few moments. Strangely, the searing pain in my muscles was starting to fade. Maybe recede was a better word. The pain was still there. I just couldn’t feel it so sharply anymore.

  I was the one who was fading.

  “Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?” Lilian said.

  “I was going to call you when I got back,” I said. “I had a job in mind for you.”

  “You could’ve asked me to come here, to help you find the vodyanoy. Then you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “I didn’t think I’d need backup. And there wasn’t time.”

  “You talk a lot of shit, you know that? I know when you’re lying. I’m inside your head.”

  I sighed. My chest was so tight I could barely manage it. “I don’t know why I didn’t call you. I just…I couldn’t. A mistake.” I looked at her. “I’m sorry. I won’t be able to help you find out who you are.”

  She shrugged. “Not your duty, right?”

  There was a bite in those words, a tone I’d never heard Lilian use in real life. It didn’t show on her face.

  Before I could respond, she flopped down into the water beside me, leaning back against the riverbank. She rested her hands behind her head and looked up at the sky.

  “Radsk,” she muttered. “That was what the guy said before he killed you, right? What do you think it means?”

  “You’re inside my head. You know what it means.”

  She rolled her head toward me and grinned a lopsided grin. “Yeah, no shit. But what does it mean?”

  “I’m not sure exactly.”

  “You have a suspicion.”

  I hesitated. “He’s hired help.”

  “An assassin.”

  “Yes.”

  “And not just any assassin,” Lilian said. “Someone went to a lot of trouble, didn’t they?”

  “They sure did.”

  “But who? Who hired him? Vampires? Ogres? Or maybe he isn’t a rogue element at all. Maybe he was sent here by his own people.”

  “If that’s the case, this mess is about to become a shitstorm.”

  “What was One-tusk even doing here? And Selene Eventide too, for that matter. Neither of them had any business b
eing in Doyle’s Reach.”

  “Eventide was protecting vampire interests.”

  Lilian sat up. “Come on. You don’t believe that. You didn’t believe it when Lockhart told you, and you don’t believe it now.”

  “Look, what do you want from me?” I growled. “I don’t have any answers.”

  She rolled on top of me and grabbed me by the shoulders. Her fingers dug in deep. For a hallucination, she had a hell of a grip.

  “Then get answers,” she snapped.

  “But—”

  She grabbed my jaw to shut me up. “Are you really going to die here in the mud without ever knowing what really happened? Are you going to let yourself lose like this?”

  I tried to speak, but her grip on my jaw tightened. Pain radiated down my neck and into my chest. It seemed sharper now, more acute.

  “You don’t want to do this for duty?” she said. “You don’t want to do it for Lost Falls? You don’t want to do it for me? Then do it for you. Do it because you need to.”

  Lilian brought herself nose-to-nose with me. I saw death swirling in her eyes.

  “It wasn’t duty that sent you into the Mines after your brother. It was the hunt. The search. That’s you, Ozzy. That’s who you are. The hunter. The tracker. The truth-seeker. You can’t fucking help yourself. You need answers. You need to satisfy that voice inside you that demands you venture into the dark in search of the truth.” She released my jaw and jerked her thumb toward her own chest. “That’s me. I’m that voice. And I’m telling you to get your ass out of this mud and up that fucking bank. You don’t die until I say you can.”

  She released me and stepped back, arms folded across her chest. She raised an eyebrow expectantly.

  “All right, all right,” I said. “Jesus. Bossy, aren’t you?”

  She grinned. “And you fucking love it.”

  A new wave of pain lanced through me. I screwed my eyes up tight for a moment as I tried to bring the pain under control. When I opened my eyes, Lilian was gone.

  I looked down at myself. I was gnarled, curled up on myself. It was only through supreme force of will that I could keep my left arm and leg partially straightened. My breathing was sharp and shallow, each inhalation bought with a stabbing pain in my chest. I tried to speak again, but found my jaw clamped shut, my teeth grinding together.