A series of wild shouts came from the stairs. Ruby glanced over the barricade just in time to see three militia come around the corner and sprint up the stairs, swiftly followed by more.
No time to think. Ruby took a shot that caught the leading militia through the neck. Caleb brought down another with a knife — throwing it and striking the militia between the eyes. Ruby didn’t have time for a second shot; she pulled out an arrow and thrust it into the chest of the first mercenary to scale the barricade. The arrow stuck in his ribs, and she didn’t have time to pull it out before another mercenary leapt over the desk and landed on her. They both tumbled to the floor.
Ruby’s bow was still in her injured hand; it got caught between her and her opponent as they wrestled, pressing against her chest. With a loud snapping sound, it broke in half.
Furious, Ruby tore at her opponent’s face, digging her nails into his skin, while her other hand stabbed him in the side with the half of the bow she still held. He was armed with a thick wooden club and he brought it down against the side of her head. Lights flashed in her vision. She tasted blood.
The club came down again. She twisted her head to the side and dodged it. Letting go of his face, she reached behind her, pulled an arrow from her quiver, and shoved it into his eye.
Ruby pushed the now limp body off her. She sat up, fighting to clear her throbbing head enough to make sense of the room around her. She heard Caleb yelling. Where was he?
The stairs. Ruby stumbled to the barricade, dragging half her bow with her, and glanced over. Caleb’s huge figure blocked the stairs, shouting like a madman as he swung his machete at two militia facing him. He sliced through one opponent’s arm and quickly finished him with a blow to the head. The other militia turned and fled.
Caleb slowly walked back up to her, stepped over the barricade and reclaimed his position. His forehead was covered in sweat, there was a wild glint in his eye, and he was smiling. “I reckon that’ll give them some second thoughts,” he said cheerfully.
Ruby was lost for words. She had never seen Caleb like this. It was like her friend had vanished and was replaced with something far more… primal.
Caleb noticed her broken bow. He pulled out his pistol and offered it to her. “Take it. I can handle these bastards the old-fashioned way.”
Ruby carefully took the gun from him. “Caleb… are you alright?”
“Why?” He checked himself for wounds. “Am I hurt?”
“No, but…”
He faced her, still grinning, and she had to force herself not to flinch away. “Did you know that back when I was a mercenary, I used to be the most expensive man for hire in the whole city?”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, are you surprised?”
“Not anymore.”
He nodded. “I reckon we’re all born with a gift. Yours is with that bow. Mine is less graceful, but no less deadly.”
“I’ve just never seen you so…” Ruby trailed off. There was no precise word to describe Caleb right now.
His smile faltered, just a little. “I don’t like being like this. But, in these situations, we’ve all got our own way of dealing with it.” He paused to glance over the barricade. “I guess we don’t always get to be the person we want, do we?”
More shouting and running footsteps — another wave of militia were coming. Ruby raised the pistol as she stood. It lacked the proper feel and beauty of her bow, but it would do the job just as well. The first pair of militia came around the corner at the foot of the stairs, and her heart sunk. They both held wooden doors, using them as shields. They stood together, makeshift shields interlocked, so the whole area behind them was sheltered.
Beside her, Caleb began to chuckle quietly. “Now this is going to be fun.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I told you: leave. I’ll follow once I’ve dealt with these fuckers.”
Ruby hesitated. She did need to get to Roman, but leaving Caleb felt wrong. The militia were nearly at the top of the stairs, shouting insults from behind their shields. By the sound, they were well over a dozen of them. Ruby fired at the wall to the left side of the shields. There was a cry of pain as the bullet ricocheted and hit a militia behind their makeshift shield.
Caleb grabbed Ruby and pushed her away. “You’re not going to be much use once they get up here.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“If you want to help me, get to Sparks as quick as you can.”
Ruby made up her mind. “Don’t be long,” she said, then ran into the room where she’d left the rope. After checking the knot around the desk leg one last time, she tossed the rope out the window, watching it unwind until the end hit the ground below.
She tucked the pistol into her belt and climbed out. Clinging to the rope with her wounded hand hurt like hell, but she gritted her teeth, planted her feet firmly against the wall, and began to climb down, hand over hand.
Somebody flew from the window above her, screaming. Ruby’s heart caught in her throat, thinking it was Caleb. The man fell past her and she saw it wasn’t him. She looked away before he hit the ground, but she couldn’t stop herself hearing the sickening thud of flesh meeting pavement. Ruby resumed descending, throwing caution to the wind and quickening her pace.
She was halfway down when Caleb climbed out the window. For a second Ruby wasn’t sure the rope would hold both their weight, but it did. “Hurry!” he shouted, and the urgency in his voice was all the convincing Ruby needed.
She loosened her grip and the rope began to rapidly pull through her hands, stinging her palm that wasn’t protected by a bandage. A burning hot, searing pain. Her feet skidded along the wall as she descended as fast as she dared. Not quite free-falling, but not far from it.
Above, a militia leaned out the window. Sunlight glinted off the knife in his hands; he brought it down to the rope and began to cut.
Caleb let go of the rope and grabbed the nearest window frame. Ruby would have done the same, but there were no windows within her reach. She quickly considered other options. There weren’t any.
The rope went slack.
Ruby fell.
The ground rushed towards her. Mid-air, she twisted onto her side — landing on her head would kill her, but landing feet first would break her legs, then she would be as good as dead.
She hit the concrete with a crunch. Screaming, she managed to turn her momentum into a roll that sent her tumbling into the gutter. She spun to a stop, lying on her back, head throbbing, her entire body both numb and in total pain.
Clenching her jaw against the aches, she fought to raise her neck enough to look down at herself. Her right arm lay over her chest — the middle of the forearm was bent in at least three places.
Ruby had seen broken limbs like this before. She knew they didn’t heal. Not properly, at least.
Her days of using a bow were over.
Another wave of pain washed over her and she passed out.
41
Roman had his opponent pinned, face down, against the floor. He raised the dagger he had stolen from his last victim and stabbed the militia at the base of his neck. One final spasm, then the militia went still. Roman stood and looked around the Ministry. There was nobody left to fight.
Across the room, Candle removed his coat and shirt, tossing them aside and exposing his glowing blue chest. The pulsating veins of deep blue lights were already halfway down his arms, and just beginning to creep onto his face. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he said. “Getting justice.”
Roman used his sleeve to wipe blood off his face. “Not really.”
“Saving your satisfaction for killing Juliette?”