Josef felt someone take his hand and thrust it clumsily forward. A wave of relief washed over him as his fingers met the Heart’s hilt, and he was even able to wrap his hand around it.
“Good,” Sted said. “Take him back to town and get him to the medics, and don’t let him drop that blade. Remember, he is my fight. Keep everyone else away from him, especially those Council pigs. Anyone who touches him will answer to me. Go!”
Josef felt the world sway as the bandits hurried to do Sted’s bidding. They carried him strung between two men like he was a hunting trophy with the Heart dragging behind them, its hilt tied to Josef’s hand with a long strip of cloth. Sted walked beside him the whole time, enormous and terrible, shoving his cape back over his monstrous arm. When he saw Josef looking, he grinned wide.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll kill you soon enough, but on my terms. I didn’t sell my soul to slap your beaten carcass around. Rest and enjoy what little life you have left, Josef Liechten. When you’re ready to give me the victory I deserve, we’ll face off again. That time, Master of the Heart of War, I won’t stop until I have your heart in my hand.”
Sted began to laugh at that, a horrible, mad sound. Josef felt himself jerk as the bandits carrying him began to move faster, desperate to put some space between themselves and the mad monster. Josef stayed awake as long as he could, but soon even Sted’s laughter faded behind the rush of blood in his ears, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Nico ran. She shot through the forest, scrambling gracelessly over fallen logs and gnarled roots with little thought to where she was going. All that mattered was speed, getting away, so she ran until her legs burned and her lungs felt like they were going to burst.
You’re such a coward, the Master whispered. Running to save yourself while the swordsman goes to his death. He can’t fight in his condition.
Nico gritted her teeth and ran harder.
You’re not even making progress. Look, all that work and you’ve barely moved.
Nico glanced over her shoulder before she could stop herself. The Master was right. She could still see the thin plume of smoke from the cabin’s chimney through the trees. She also saw no sign of pursuit. Nico slowed down, sucking cold, precious air into her burning lungs as she eyed the forest, straining to hear above the thundering of her heart. But the forest was still and empty around her, the sunlight moving in dapples across the leaf litter as the wind tossed the treetops high overhead. Under her coat, clutched against her chest, her transformed arm began to ache.
Pity you didn’t take me up on my offer, the Master said. If your hearing was anything like what it used to be, you would never have stopped.
Even before the words had faded from her mind, a pair of hard, strong hands grabbed her shoulders from behind.
Nico shrieked and kicked backward, landing a solid strike on whoever was behind her. But the hands on her shoulders didn’t even flinch. She scrambled desperately, panic clouding her mind, and all at once, her coat reacted. She felt the black fabric clench around the hands on her shoulder, the stiff cloth growing sharp as needles as it dug into the skin.
The person holding her grunted in pain, and the grip on her shoulders vanished. Nico tumbled to the ground and was up again in an instant, clutching her coat with a whisper of thanks. As soon as her feet hit the ground she was running, pounding flat out into the woods, only to come skidding to a stop a second later.
She hadn’t seen anything move, hadn’t heard steps on the leaves, yet, somehow, a man in a long brown coat, his hands bleeding from where her coat had stabbed him, was already in front of her, watching her with calm, brown eyes.
“Amazing coat you have there,” he said softly, holding up his injured hand. “That wasn’t in the briefing. You caught me by surprise, but don’t count on doing it again.”
As he spoke, the wounds on his hands closed before Nico’s eyes. She blinked, then blinked again, but the wounds were still gone, leaving his skin whole and smooth. She’d never seen anything like it outside of demonseeds, but, while she wasn’t sure who or what this man was, she knew he wasn’t a seed. His skin was too swarthy, his build healthy and whole. She watched, dumbstruck, as the man quietly wiped away what blood was left on a handkerchief. Nico swallowed. Whatever he was, one thing was certain: he was faster than her. Running was out of the question. If she wanted to get away, she’d have to fight.
She planted her feet in a defensive position, keeping her transformed arm close to her chest. It twitched beneath her coat, itching for the chance to lash out, but Nico locked it in place. She might be weak like this, but she didn’t need demon strength to take down a larger opponent. Josef had taught her well. All she needed was a lucky break, an open jab at his throat, and she could knock his wind out and get away.