Shadow's Bane (Dorina Basarab 4)

But I wasn’t a fly, and I grabbed one of the hanging ropes in passing, somehow getting my knees up and my feet out. And managed to push off from the wall instead of splatting onto it. And ended up—

Right back in the thick of things.

The next few seconds were a kaleidoscope of impressions more than thoughts, because I didn’t have time for thoughts. Bodies were tumbling, bricks were flying, blood was spurting—green, oh good. And I was getting smacked around by both sides, because I couldn’t see well enough to find a way out.

But not because of a lack of light. The battleground had started off gloomy, with a little moonlight above and some scattered torches below, but it hadn’t stayed that way. As soon as the fun began, the flashlights turned on—masses of them. And started waving around everywhere like a thousand tiny spotlights, because everyone seemed to have one. It reminded me of people holding up lighters at a concert, only these lighters were extra powerful and were glinting off everything: ruined metal and broken glass and tiny, angry troll eyes, whose owners were probably pissed that they had to fight half-blind.

Which was why they were going on movement, Dory!

I finally realized why I was drawing so much attention swinging around on my little rope, probably looking like a flying fist even as I tried to avoid them—and the bottles and bricks and unidentifiable junk the crowd was pelting us with.

Until I got smart and jumped for a piece of somebody’s living room, draped with fallen shag carpeting that gave me a decent handhold. At least, it did until I pulled an ancient TV off the edge. It was built in a cabinet like a piece of furniture and would have taken me out or at least down, only a nearby troll grabbed it first. And flung it at an opponent’s head, catching my rope in the process, and sending me hurtling across the gap—

Straight at a bunch of humans crowding somebody’s bathtub.

Oh, thank God, I thought, reaching for them gratefully.

Only to have them shove me right back out again, waving beer bottles and cheering.

“Assholes!” I yelled, but nobody heard.

On the bright side, the shove sent me spinning across the void toward another possible perch: a broken piece of hallway that nobody had claimed, maybe because it was no longer connected to anything on either side. But I wasn’t coming from the side; I was coming head-on, and I managed to catch it.

With my stomach.

It hurt like a bitch, but so am I, and I snarled and clambered on top. And then just lay there, breathing hard, because it felt like I’d broken a rib. It still did when I rolled over a moment later and peered past the edge, trying to take stock.

It wasn’t easy.

The fight had already spread out, with two fallen colossi in the now-mostly-vacated lobby, and two more battling it out on the floor around them, throwing up huge drifts of soot in the process. Everybody else was tearing through the various stories, raining down bricks and dust and debris, which, with the strobe lighting from the damned flashlights, made it hard to see anything. But I nonetheless managed to glimpse a smear of pink, far below.

And then Louis-Cesare, on one side of the lobby. He had a torch in one hand and a piece of rebar in the other, and was holding off an even dozen vamps while still draped in three grinning sidekicks. Because it looked like Bitch Girl hadn’t come alone.

It also looked like her backup was a little worried about the bears. Like why Louis-Cesare hadn’t felt it necessary to set them down. Or maybe they’d heard rumors of the crazy swordsman with the old-world manners who would apologize if he stepped on your foot in a fight right before he gutted you. But it was more likely going to be the other way around this time, because he was distracted, his eyes flickering constantly upward.

Looking for me, I realized.

“I’m okay!” I yelled, waving both arms, and saw a brief flash of teeth.

Right before he was swamped by the whole crew at once, who weren’t politely waiting to duel him one at a time, like in the movies.

They never do.

Crap.

I started looking for a landing spot that my rope might reach, only to realize that it wasn’t a rope. I’d grabbed for one, but in the darkness I’d found something else. Something that spit and sizzled, like a downed electric cable.

Maybe because it was a downed electric cable.

“Shit!”

And then Purple Hair popped up over the side of my impossible-to-reach perch, like freaking Spider-Man.

I blinked at her.

“How the hell did you get up here?” I demanded.

“Miss me?” She flashed some fang.