A Girl Named Calamity (Alyria 1)

He smiled viciously. “You wouldn’t. Who would take you to Undaley? I can guarantee you that the Untouchables wouldn’t.”

“I’m not yours to use as bait! If they touch me, I’ll die.” I believed with everything that if I did this, the fortune teller’s omen would come true. My chest tightened with fear at just the thought. I wasn’t ready to die.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to decline,” I said, trying to calm the anxiety I felt. He only ran his thumb across his lip thoughtfully before heading over to my horse. I hopped off the other side. I walked backward while he walked towards me. “I’m not throwing my life away to satisfy your lust for blood!” I cried.

“You seriously want to do this right now?” he growled while he strode towards me.

“I’m not doing it!” I returned. I blinked and before I knew it he was in front of me, his body blocking out the sun. A hand was around one of my wrists and one under my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Don’t fight me.”

His words physically hit me, and if he weren’t holding me close, I would have taken a step back. I had no urge to fight him. None. I looked up into his eyes, mesmerized. Such expressive eyes wasted on a cold-hearted assassin. I knew something was wrong. Felt it clench in my stomach, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Didn’t really want to.

“You will stand on the path until the Untouchables arrive. When they get here, you will pretend your horse ran off. You’ll act like a damsel in distress, and you won’t say anything about me.”

The words were like a punch, and I stepped back when he let me go. My stomach knotted while I did exactly what he said. My legs carried me over to the path while my mind screamed at me to stop.

I tried to stop my legs’ motion, but they were stuck in their destination to the path. When I was where I was supposed to be, tremulous thoughts of my imminent death flooded my mind.

I’m going to die.

Tears filled my eyes as the itch to flee consumed me, but I couldn’t do anything but wait for my murderers. I was stuck on the path like a virgin sacrifice, just as my grandmother had said. There was no way that he could handle that many men without one touching me first.

I didn’t even see him walk over to me through glossy eyes. He stood before me, his hand cupping my nape. I hated him. So much that I didn’t expect the next words out of his mouth. “Relax. Nothing will harm you. Nothing.” His hand was gone, and peace settled my mind like a blissful cloud, and the fist around my heart unclenched. I sucked in a deep breath as my tense muscles relaxed.

The sun was warm, and the breeze a perfect interlude. When I saw riders approach in the distance, I felt as I had when I’d sit outside the cottage with Grandmother, enjoying a cold drink and watching the sunset; as if my horse had just run off and these gentlemen would help me. They pulled up on their reins while looking at me and then around as if to see if anyone else was near.

“I’m so glad I have some help! My horse seems to have run off, and I’ve been walking for hours,” I said, the words coming out of my mouth on their own. The men dismounted their horses, their eyes only on me now. If I weren’t magically inclined, I would have felt like prey to these predators’ next meal.

“Well if this isn’t our lucky day,” one of the white-clad men said. I took in their clothes and realized they probably had many accidental deaths if they didn’t keep themselves completely covered. They could have even killed their horses. How inconvenient that would be.

I frowned. “Why is it your lucky day?”

The men laughed. “We just found a half-naked angel on the side of the road. What about that isn’t lucky?” one of the men asked.

I rolled that around in my naive, magically-enforced mind and my answer was pathetic. “Well, I’m not an angel. I can’t grant you wishes or anything if that’s what you want.”

They laughed some more. “I almost wish I could keep this one alive,” one of the men said as he walked towards me.

“Why would you kill me?” The information still not doing anything to disturb me. I saw the man smile underneath the white cloth covering his face.

“Unfortunately, that is the only way we can be with a woman,” he said.

“That is unfortunate,” I replied and meant it.

He walked closer. “I’ll be sad to see you go, Angel.” He took another step, and that was when a knife lodged itself into the side of his throat. His eyes remained on me as he fell to the ground. His death could have been a bunny running across the path for all I cared. The other Untouchables looked around in frantic movements and shouted in a language I hadn’t heard before.

I never saw Weston move, but he was now behind the men. A blur of movement and two more men were on the ground.

My relaxation dissipated, and I tensed when an Untouchable strode towards me. His gloves were off and every step he took closer, the more the itch to flee consumed me. My mind was in a fog, but I could feel panic and terror trying to push their way in. The man froze. His determined dark eyes morphed into a hazy cloud of disbelief. His stare was blank before he crumpled to the ground, a red pool of liquid growing on his back, a knife in the center.

Weston dispatched the last man behind him with an elbow to his white-clad face and then a slash to the neck as he turned around. Seven men lay between us. Blood seemed to be the new ground. I stood on the dusty path completely numb. Too many emotions mixed together and created a blah feeling, as it was with mixing too many colors of paint.

I stood still for many moments, looking at the scene. I had never seen anyone murdered in front of my eyes before, and all within a day I had seen too much. There had been hangings in Alger, but I’d never gone to them.

I felt sick, but when I looked up at Weston, my nausea left me with the breeze. He watched me as if to gauge my sanity. And the strongest emotion to return to me was a heart pounding, skin flushing, all-consuming fury.

I felt for the knife at my hip and threw it at him with all the skill he had taught me. It flew through the air and lodged itself in his bicep. He barely flinched as he pulled it out with one tug, and tossed it on the ground, his eyes a dark green storm.