The bronze dagger.
They were all still looking away from her. She slid the tip of the dagger into her sleeve, trembling at her own daring. She scooped it up and wrapped that arm across her chest. She pressed her other arm over it in a shrinking, defensive pose. It didn't take much acting.
Novak barked out something in a language she didn't recognize. Georg made a brief, sullen reply. Novak pressed a button on his watch and snarled into it in the same language. He held a conversation with the person who replied. A long, heavy silence followed.
Novak paced back and forth across the room. He scowled at Erin as if the power outage were her fault. "I do not like surprises at this stage of the game." He spoke into his watch. "Tamara?" He waited. No reply. He turned to Tonia. "Check on her. I will leave nothing to chance. If I cannot watch them on video, I will watch them in this room."
Georg leered at her. "We watch them, and then he watches us."
She recoiled. The dagger slid up into her sleeve, all the way to her elbow. It was very cold against the skin of her arm.
Tonia opened the door. She leaped back with a shriek and leveled her gun. Guns appeared in the hands of Novak and Georg.
"Relax, everyone," said Tamara's light, amused voice. "I have the situation under control."
She walked into the room. Connor staggered in beside her, his arms fastened behind his back, his head bent over at an awkward angle. Tamara clutched a handful of his hair. Her pistol was shoved under his chin. "When I saw the power outage, I assumed you'd want a change of plans, boss," she said. "I know how much this means to you."
Novak's eyes narrowed. "You should not take initiatives of this kind without consulting me. He might have overpowered you."
Tamara looked contrite. "I'm so sorry. I was overly eager to please you," she said. "Forgive me. As you can see, I managed him easily."
Connor's eyes sought hers across the room. He was so beautiful, and so pale. His chiseled face was bruised and streaked with blood. The blaze of love in his eyes was like a blow against her heart.
Tamara jerked her chin at Georg. "He has to be restrained for this. Help me cuff him to the radiator."
Georg shot Novak a questioning look.
"Get on with it," Novak said curtly. "It's getting late, and we're already behind schedule."
Tamara let go of Connor's hair and eased away from him, her gun still trained on his face. "Down on the floor," she said. "Sit. Right there."
Connor crouched down, and slowly did as she asked.
Georg advanced, flexing his plastic-covered hands. "I want to beat you with your cane," he hissed. "But it will be beautiful to have her"—he jerked his chin at Erin—"in front of you. And then you will die."
He leaped onto Connor with an animal snarl and bore him to the ground. Connor twisted under him. A gun went off. Georg arched back, gurgling. Tonia screamed. Tamara whirled, kicked her in the face.
The gun in Novak's arm rose, taking aim at Connor. Erin exploded out of her shocked paralysis. She flung herself against Novak and let the dagger slip from her sleeve into her hand. She jarred him, and stumbled back. His shot went wide. A window shattered.
Novak let out a shriek of inhuman fury and leaped at her.
Erin brought the bronze dagger up, clutched tight in both hands. It met his own furious momentum. The blade bit deep into his throat.
His pale eyes went wide. Black-red arterial blood gushed out over spotless white linen. The gun dropped from his hand. His arms encircled her as he fell forward. His blood had a meaty, metallic smell.
He was taking her down with him, into the steaming pits of hell.
She heard another gun blast, then another, but they came from very far away. The table caught the back of her head as she fell, but it was some other person who suffered that awful pain. She was falling into the vortex that had always waited for her. Fading into the dark.
"Erin? Goddamn it, Erin, wake up! Talk to me!"
Connor's voice sounded terrified. She wanted to comfort him, but she'd lost contact with the part of herself that knew speech. Everything was so far away. She was so small. Lost in a huge, echoing void.
"She's covered with blood." Connor's voice shook. Rough hands wrenched her blouse open. "I can't tell if—"
"Not hers," said Tamara's voice. "It's his. Relax."
Erin's eyes fluttered open. Staggering pain rilled her head. She struggled to focus. "Connor?"
"Erin? Are you OK?"
"Don't know. Am I?"
His hands slid over her body, searching for injuries. He let out a long, unsteady sigh of relief when he found none. He slipped his arm behind her shoulder and pulled her up. "God, you scared me."
"My head." Erin tried to lift her hand up to her head, but her arm was made of lead. Connor's long, gentle fingers slid into her hair and explored. She hissed in pain.
"You've got a bump, but it didn't break the skin," he said. "We'll have it checked out."
"Novak?" she asked.
He jerked his chin to the left of them. She glanced, and looked quickly away from the still, blood-drenched thing next to them. Her gorge rose. She squeezed her eyes shut. "He's really dead this time?"
"Very dead," Tamara said. "Thanks to you."
She looked up, startled. Tamara was crouched next to her. "Me?"
"You took him out with the neck wound." Her approval was clear. "It would have taken a minute, but it was a sure thing. You hit an artery, girl. Blood's all over the wall. Looks like a slaughterhouse in here."
Erin closed her eyes before she could see the gore-spattered walls. "I heard all those gunshots," she said.
"We were just making dead sure," Tamara said. "Connor said you were an Amazon. He was right. I'm impressed." Tamara was pressing hard on her upper arm, her fingers wet with blood.
"You're wounded," Connor said to her. "Let me see."
"Tonia grazed me," she said. "The bitch always did have lousy aim. No big deal. I've taken worse than this and then gone out dancing."
The world widened into vast, echoing emptiness again. Erin heard their voices, but she could not take in what they were saying. Connor's hand was warm against her face. "Erin? Babe? Anybody home?"
"I'm not dead," was all that came out. What she wanted to say was too complicated, a million desperate things all struggling for precedence. "I'm not dead," she repeated stupidly.
"No, you're not, sweetheart. Thank God."
Connor's head dropped onto her blood-soaked shoulder. She smelled his warm, tangled hair against her face. He loved her, but he couldn't follow her to that frozen wasteland. No one could. She didn't know the way back to where he waited, warm and gentle, and needing something from her that she was too destroyed to give.
"It's all chaos," she whispered. "That's it. That's all there ever was. Anything else is just a lie. Just a mask."
Connor smoothed her hair back, frowning. "I think you've got a concussion, baby."
"I think she's telling you something important," Tamara said. She tilted Erin's chin up gently with a blood-streaked hand. "You know what? You've got the makings of an excellent professional bad girl."
That was so bizarre, it actually penetrated the haze and pulled her back to the room. She focused on Tamara, blinking. "Really?"
Tamara smiled. "Sure. You've got all the prerequisites. The looks, the brains, the nerve, the flexible attitude. You need a little help with the style, but that's no biggie."
Connor pulled her back against the warmth of his chest. "That's very kind of you, but it's not her scene."
"Let Erin speak for herself," Tamara mocked. "Today's a big day. Her first kill. It's all chaos, right? I've known that all along, you see. It's made me what I am today."
Connor's body was rigid. "Hey. Forget it. Erin isn't a—"
"I owe you one, beautiful," Tamara told her. "If you ever need help with something scary, leave me a message at the Honey Pot sex toy shop down in Pioneer Square. Scary things are my specialty."