Midnight Poison (The Paranormal Poisons Saga #1)(119)

She almost laughed.

He was a child really. Early twenties, at most. Straight hair the shade of chocolate fudge and long enough to be pulled back in a short ponytail. He wore black cargo pants and a matching T-shirt, which was ripped in several places. Injuries on his face and arms were caked with dried blood. Tall and gangly, with a slender body and a face full of sharp angles, he was attractive more than handsome, his youthful features shaded with the dark forlorn quality of a tortured artist. 

Or, in his case, an assassin.

"You bastard," Kiara seethed, keeping the guns aimed at his chest.

"It's you, isn't it?" his voice timbered deep, unemotional. He tilted his head, studying her closely. A smile tinkered at one corner of his mouth. "The Kiara Blackwood of old? It's a pleasure to finally-"

She pulled the triggers.





CHAPTER 110





With impressive speed, he dove out of the doorway.

Kiara emptied the clips into the wall Fauxleander had disappeared behind. Plaster rained. Wood splintered. Wallpaper frayed. The paintings shattered and then clattered to the floor. The silence that followed had an annoying hum instead of the screams of agony she craved.

That would soon change.

Kiara tossed the guns aside and yanked knives free from her boots. She twirled them with ease as she prowled forward through billowing waves of dust. But in the dark, wood-paneled hall, she frowned. No Fauxleander. Only bullet holes and debris.

"You cannot hide, charlatan," she called out.

A crimson drop splattered on the toe of her boot. She whirled and unleashed a roundhouse kick as Fauxleander dropped from the ceiling. Her foot caught him mid-air. He cratered through the wall with a bellowing thunder. Kiara dove through the splintered hole after him. She launched herself, ducked into a graceful somersault, and rolled to her feet, arriving back in the room with Leontes' prone form.

As Fauxleander scrambled to stand, Kiara threw the knives. Blades buried into his shoulders. Blood oozed from the wounds.

Fauxleander grimaced in pain. "Wait, please. I just want to talk."

Magic swirled around Kiara's hands. The two knives ripped free from Fauxleander's torso and flew across the room toward her. She caught them and immediately hurtled them back. They stabbed in each of his thighs. Fauxleander gritted his teeth against the pain.

"Leontes was mine to kill," Kiara said. "Now I will have to make due with you."

Magic brought the knives back to her hands, and she chucked them once again. This was going to be a long, painful afternoon for the assassin.

"He's not dead!" Fauxleander shouted.

Kiara paused.

So did the knives.

Fauxleander stared wide-eyed at the blades, which stabbed an inch into the skin above his heart. "I only gave him Sandman. I swear."

"Why should I believe you?"

"If I'd killed him, would I still be here waiting for you?" Breathless desperation tinged his words. "He's taking his time to come out of it, because I triple dosed him with darts. But good thing I did, because he put up a hell of a fight before it brought him down. He almost killed me."

Kiara squatted next to Leontes and slapped his face several times. No response. "Could it be you were bested by a child, my lord?"

"I'm not a child," Fauxleander said. "And I'm not the enemy. We did everything to set you free. You should be thanking us."

Kiara stood and narrowed heated eyes on the assassin. "I admit you have gone to great lengths to capture my attention. You best speak whilst I am inclined to tolerate it, Fauxleander."

Fauxleander's mouth curled in disgust. "That's what you've been calling me?"

"The moniker displeases you? Good."

"Neal," he ground out. "My name is Neal."

"Neal is a stupid name. We will stick with Fauxleander," she said. "Your next words will determine whether you continue to remain among the living. What do you desire of me?"



       
         
       
        

With the blades still embedded in his chest, Fauxleander collapsed into a chair. He pressed his hands to the bleeding wounds on his thighs. "To serve you. As we always have."

"We?" Kiara said.

"Oleander's Orphan Army."

Kiara smiled to cover her shock. "My children survived the centuries?"

"In one way or another," he shrugged. "We've been searching for you. We used the killings to draw you out."

She stared at him. "So many deaths? You are mad."

"No." Fauxleander shook his head. "Just desperate. When I read about you, and what you did all those years ago, I knew you could help us."