“No,” he
said without sounding at all tired or strained and looked up. “This
way.”
Amelia
couldn’t believe it when he kicked in a fire exit door with a
single blow of his booted foot and started leading her up the back
stairs of an old building. Was he insane?
“Where
the hell do you think you’re going?” she ground the words out
between breaths, trying to keep up with him as her legs began to
flag. Running on the flat had been tiring enough. She wasn’t going
to make it more than a few flights of steps without
collapsing.
“The
roof.”
Insane.
“Dead
end,” she squeezed out. “We’ll be trapped.”
Panic
sent her heart rocketing and she looked back down the dark
stairwell, afraid that the men would be following them and would be
faster than she was. Adrenaline kept her legs moving but each step
was becoming increasingly difficult. At this rate, the men would
catch her. She jogged her backside off most weekends and some
weekday mornings in order to remain fit and healthy, but she had
never been good at flat out running.
When she
turned back to Marcus, he was looking at her, his eyes unusually
bright in the low light.
“Trust me
on this.” He paused on the next floor, not at all out of
breath.
Amelia
panted like a dog, her throat burning as she dragged in each
breath, her breathing so loud that she couldn’t hear anything else.
Were the men coming? She stared down the stairs and then looked
across at Marcus. His eyes had to be a trick of the light but they
were so vivid and bright, bluer than she had ever seen
them.
“I need
to get to the roof and then I can deal with the men.”
“As in,
fight them?” Her expression turned to horror but Marcus just
nodded.
“I said I
would protect you, Amelia. I meant that.”
“You
think they’re coming after me? Why? I dropped my bag. They’ve got
what they’re after.”
The look
in Marcus’s eyes said different. He knew they were coming. She
didn’t want to know how he knew or why they were after her, but she
did know that going with Marcus was her only option. She couldn’t
fight the men alone. Perhaps when they reached the roof, they would
find that the men hadn’t come after her at all and could escape
another way.
Marcus
grabbed her hand again and started running, his footsteps heavy on
the staircase. Amelia stumbled after him, keeping up as best she
could, her legs cramping and threatening to give out. A warm rush
of air burst against her when he kicked the door to the roof open
and the brightness of the light blinded her for a moment. She kept
running with him, one hand clutched in his and the other trying to
pin the skirt of her dress down.
Marcus
stopped.
Her eyes
adjusted.
The two
men were standing a few metres in front of them, near the edge of
the black tarred flat roof.
Impossible.
Amelia
looked back at the door she had come out of with Marcus and then
around her at the roof, her heart pounding and sweat trickling down
her back, sticking her blue dress to her skin.
There
weren’t any other routes onto the roof. No ladder or adjoining
building. How had the men reached the roof before them?
“Marcus,”
she said but the rest of her sentence died when she saw
him.
He stood
with his back to her, the warm breeze tousling his black hair, his
broad shoulders relaxed as though he wasn’t facing two dangerous
men.
But what
stole her breath, what made her heart flutter in her throat, was
his clothing.
Gone were
his jeans and shirt and boots.
In their
place was something she could only describe as armour but it seemed
ridiculous that he would be wearing such a thing. The deep blue
back plate shone like mother of pearl in the fading light of
evening, reaching only mid-way down his back, and had two long
slits over each shoulder blade. She could see his tattoos through
them. Strips of armour in a similar material covered his backside
like a short skirt but revealed the dark material beneath. His
muscular thighs were bare and taut, exuding strength as he stood
firm with one hand at his side and the other still clutching hers.
The armour encased his bare forearms too, brilliant blue and edged
with shining silver and decorated with rearing silver
unicorns.
Amelia
stared at him, head light and fuzzy, confused and unable to
comprehend what she was seeing.
Marcus
was wearing armour.
She
looked around for his clothes, convinced it was a trick of some
sort and he had somehow been wearing this incredible costume
beneath his clothes, but she couldn’t see them and he hadn’t once
let go of her hand.
His other
hand moved at his side and her eyes widened as they fell on the
short sword strapped there. He removed it from the sheath, the
curved steel blade around the length of his forearm and hand
combined, and held it down at his side.
“Leave,”
he said and she wondered if he was speaking to her until she leaned
to one side and looked past him.
Her eyes
popped wide.
The two
men had changed appearance too and this time she decided that she
was hallucinating. The fear had gone to her head or perhaps she had
passed out, because rather than two humans, she was looking at two
human-shaped things with pitch-black skin and glowing red eyes.
They were huge, at least three feet taller than before, and built
like brick shit houses and both were staring intently at Marcus,
lips peeled back in a sneer that revealed sharp red
teeth.
Amelia
felt faint but held it together. She couldn’t pass out in her own
nightmare.
Or was it
a dream?
Her gaze
slid back to Marcus. He turned at the waist and looked over his
shoulder at her, his face a mask of calm confidence, and released
her wrist. He certainly looked like something out of a dream. A
warrior. Otherworldly. Elementally masculine. She resisted her
temptation to look at his body again and see the way his muscles
twisted with him, full of strength and power. He would look
beautiful if she stepped back and took him all in. Sexy as
hell.
A chill
settled on her skin.
Dangerous.
Amelia
stepped back on instinct, distancing herself from him without
thinking, and pain flashed in his vivid silver-blue eyes before he
turned away.
Had she
caused it by placing more distance between them? Her heart had made
her feet move, afraid of what she was looking at and the knowledge
that Marcus was dangerous. He had possibly killed a man in the
street and looked as though he was going to kill these two men, or
whatever they were. What insane world had she fallen into? Marcus
had said to trust her. He had promised to protect her.
And she
believed him.
She just
couldn’t bring herself to believe what she was seeing.
Amelia
flinched when Marcus flicked his left hand out at his side and the
handle of the blade extended into a long staff that rivalled his
six foot plus frame. The silver engraving that covered it reflected
the dying sunlight.
She
blinked and Marcus was gone. A boom shook the ground and a hot wave
of air knocked her onto her backside. She sat there with her hands
pressed into the tacky tar roof on either side of her thighs,
staring, unable to take her eyes off the battle happening right
before her.
Marcus
was fighting.
For
her.
The two
black creatures snarled and evaded Marcus as he swept around them,
his spear gleaming brightly as it cut through the air bare inches
from his enemies. The creatures gained ground and then reached out
at their sides. Dark swords materialised in their hands. She was
going crazy. She had never dreamed of battles before but this
couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be.
Her heart
leapt in her chest when one of the creatures slashed at Marcus,
forcing him back into the other one. He turned in time to block its
attack with his spear but it caught him hard across the jaw with
its bare fist, sending him tumbling across the roof. He shot to his
feet, launched himself through the air at the beast, and brought
his spear down in a swift arc that cut straight through its arm,
tearing an ungodly shriek from the creature. The wound poured with
blood, creating a slick river down the creature’s bare black leg,
but it didn’t stop the fight. The other monster attacked Marcus and
he leapt backwards, high in the air, and then drew another blade
from his waist. It was the same as the spear had been at first, a
short handle with a long gleaming curved blade, but he didn’t
extend this one. He slashed at the creatures with it, driving them
backwards.
Amelia
struggled to her feet, pulse pounding and stomach turning whenever
the monsters managed to get close to Marcus. He was incredible as
he fought, both violent and graceful, his movements swift and
fierce, and aim true. He sliced down the back of one of the beasts
and then turned and brought the spear up again, twisting it at the
same time so he could cut through the second beast’s chest. It
snarled and then roared, and the sound deafened her. She covered
her ears and then shook her head when the beast with the cut arm
and back turned her way.
It
thundered towards her, heavy footfalls shaking the roof, and her
heart felt as though it was going to explode or stop.
Before it
could reach her, Marcus was in front of her, his right hand pressed
against her stomach, forcing her backwards. He yelled and pushed
forwards with the spear, and everything slowed down as it sliced
straight into the monster’s stomach. Marcus didn’t stop. He pressed
on, his hand leaving her and revealing a hot patch where it had
touched, and she could only stare as the staff of his spear
shortened again and he tugged it free of the creature’s body,
twirled and hacked its head off.
“Keep
back,” Marcus said in a thick growling voice and launched himself
forwards.
He shot
towards the other black creature at the opposite end of the roof,
his spear extending again.
Amelia
didn’t take her eyes off the monster in front of her. It dropped
slowly to its knees, one scaly clawed hand still pressed against
the wound in its stomach, and hit the tar roof and collapsed
forwards. A pool of blood spread outwards from the neck and she
looked down, following it, the world silent as her gaze tracked its
slow progression towards her feet. She couldn’t move. She wanted to
step back, out of the path of the blood, but her legs wouldn’t
cooperate. The slick liquid touched the toes of her cream summer
shoes and edged around it, engulfing them. Bile burned up her
throat and she swallowed it down, unwilling to be sick even at the
sight of such horror.
Marcus
yelled and her attention shot back to him. He was fighting the
remaining creature, doing all he could to protect her just as he
had promised. Blood marred his pale skin and his armour, and his
movements were slowing, clumsy now and scaring her. Fear for her
own safety became fear for Marcus’s as she watched the fight,
unable to tear her eyes away from him, her blood rushing through
her head and heart quaking in her chest.
It leapt
to her throat when the black beast turned, bringing its sword
swiftly upwards and cutting across Marcus’s thigh. His knee hit the
roof and he blocked the next slash of the creature’s sword with the
armour around his forearm. The sharp metallic ring shot through
her, turning her insides, pushing her fear to the limit. Marcus
yelled and thrust upwards with his forearm, forcing the beast
backwards and gaining more room but Amelia feared that it wouldn’t
be enough. He was tiring and the creature showed no sign of
stopping.
Marcus
dragged the blade of his spear across the roof, scarring the black
tar, and lashed out with it. The attack missed but forced the
creature away. Marcus breathed hard, held his right hand out
towards the creature, and vivid white light shot down from the sky,
engulfing it. The beast roared and snarled, clawed at the beam as
though it was a tangible thing that it could attack, and then rose
into the air and disappeared.
Amelia
stared up at the sky, breathing fast and shallow, on the verge of
collapse. Heavy footsteps echoed in her ears and the sounds of the
world started to return. She brought her gaze downwards.
Marcus
slowly walked towards her across the roof, blood sprayed across his
blue chest armour and face, smeared on his bare shoulders and
thighs. She told herself not to go to him, that he was as dangerous
as the monsters that had attacked her, but the weariness in his
expression and in his eyes forced her to move. She stepped past the
body of the fallen creature and hurried towards him. The warmth
that filled his eyes when they fell on her heated her through and
chased away her fear. She wanted to throw her arms around his
shoulders and cry with relief that it was over and he was safe. She
stopped short of him instead, afraid for once of doing what she
wanted. Whatever had just happened, it had been real.
Marcus
had saved her from men that had been monsters.