Innocents

  Chapter 21

  The first Domus breaks through the trees, shaggy black hair partially covering his cruelly carved face. His mouth briefly forms an “o” of surprise when he sees us before it fades into a smirk. Several other people appear behind him, confused by their sudden stop. I do a quick head count: twelve total. The black haired Murderer looks at Flynn with obvious dislike, “I never thought you were the suicidal type Flynn, but that’s the only reason I can think of that you would actually stop to wait for us. Unless you really are just that stupid.” I can tell from his voice that there is some bad blood between this guy and Flynn, but if Flynn is nervous, he doesn’t show it.

  He stares coldly at the Domus, “Are you really prepared to die for Marek, Jet? Because if you attack, there’s no way any of you are leaving here alive.”

  A low chuckle interrupts Flynn and the crowd of Murderers part at the sound revealing a tall man dressed entirely in black. I gasp softly, unable to stop myself, and the man turns his face towards me. I don’t need Flynn to tell me who this is; the man has a presence that emits evil so powerfully it could only be one person: Marek. His ice blue eyes meet mine and in them I see cold amusement mixed with contempt; I have to look away. Marek’s lips curl into a slight smile as he turns back to Flynn.

  “I would love to hear your brilliant plan of how you plan to defeat myself along with my eleven most highly trained followers aided only by a weakling native who could never even defend himself, and an Innocent who couldn’t last five minutes here on her own. Not even you are that good, Flynn Jenners.” With a start, I realize that this was the first time I’ve ever heard Flynn’s last name.

  “Try to attack us and you’ll find out for yourself,” Flynn says challengingly. Marek gives another low laugh looking around at his surrounding arrogantly; his followers have spread out, surrounding us.

  “It’s going to be a shame to kill you, but you know what happens to traitors.” At those words, the Domus spring into action, coming at us from all sides.

  A heavily built blonde Murderer reaches me first, slashing at my throat. I just manage to raise my knife in time to block, and the blow ricochets of my blade. My mind goes into autopilot as I fight; every ounce of concentration I possess is being used to stay alive. The blonde is a good fighter, but I was taught by the best and I begin to notice his weaknesses. Whenever he seems to gain the upper hand in our fight, his actions become rushed and sloppy, something I can use to my advantage. I pretend to tire, allowing him to clearly see an opening in my defenses. The Domus takes the bait, swinging his knife wildly at me. At the last second, I catch his arm, using his own strength against him as I drive my knife deep into his stomach and slash upward.

  I kick him away from me and quickly glance around at the fight going on at all sides. Flynn has already taken down two opponents and is locked in combat with a third; Heath is struggling to take down his first attacker. Our positioning is the only thing keeping us alive; the Domus can only come at us one or two at a time, weakening their advantage of strength in numbers. I am disgusted to see Marek hanging back, observing the fight from a safe distance, surrounded by two guards. However, before I can dwell on this a figure leaps at me and I curse myself for getting distracting in this dire situation.

  My new opponent is smaller and quicker than the first and I find myself tiring fast. I have to end this duel before I use too much of my precious energy. I attack using a series of quick slashes, none of my hits are deadly, but they are enough to tilt the balance in my favor. As I manage to land a shallow cut to his neck, the Domus instinctively raises his hands to protect himself and I end it. As I pull out my knife, I hear a pained yell and Heath drops to the ground, a deep cut stretching from his knee to his hip. His opponent, a tall dark skinned Domus raises his knife to deliver the killer blow. Flynn gives an enraged shout, pushing his adversary away from him, a bloody smile where his throat used to be, and lunges toward Heath, intercepting the strike meant for Heath’s heart. The knife catches him in the side and I cry out as he doubles over, blood staining his shirt. Wincing, he yanks the knife from his side and turns it against its owner. Even injured, Flynn is still deadly.

  I try to reach Flynn, but I find my way blocked by a dark haired woman. She smiles mockingly at me as she raises her wickedly sharp stiletto. Disregarding my own safety, I spring at the women, caring only about reaching Flynn. She meets me half way and our knives collide, the aftermath jolting my shoulder painfully. The women kicks my feet out from under me and I roll madly away, springing back to my feet. She comes at me again and it takes everything I have not to get gutted like a fish.

  We dance back and forth exchanging blows, neither of us able to gain the upper hand. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of Flynn; he is locked in combat with Marek and the black haired Murderer, Jet. His face is pale with pain, but I can’t afford to worry about him now, I’ll be of no use to him dead. My opponent hacks down at my arm and I dodge just in time, the tip of her knife grazing my skin.

  I lose my balance and fall hard to the ground; the woman kicks the knife out of my hand leaving me defenseless. My extra knife is stowed in my belt, but I’ll be dead before I can reach it. The Domus woman hovers over me, knife held high. I close my eyes and, as a last resort, bring my feet up and kick her hard in the chest. The force of the blow knocks her off balance, and I lunge for my knife. I’m about to bring it down hard on her neck when a cold voice rings out.

  “Stop or Flynn dies.”

  I freeze as I see Marek holding a knife to Flynn’s neck. My instincts scream at me to finish the fight but I disregard them and slowly lower my knife to the ground. Immediately, the Domus woman I was fighting seizes me, clutching me in a headlock so that I can barely breathe. I stare at Marek with a look of pure loathing; his white blonde hair is speckled with Flynn’s blood and he has a nasty cut down his forehead.

  Marek speaks in a soft deadly voice, “I admit, you put up a valiant fight, but in the end it was futile, as I said it would be. I am going to kill you Flynn Jenners, for your disloyalty after I made you everything you are today, but not before I make you watch as Ash kills your precious Innocents pet. Slowly, savoring every cut.”

  He laughs, the sound chilling me to the very core of my existence. Flynn struggles against Marek’s arms, but Marek digs the tip of his knife deeper into Flynn’s neck and he stills. Seeing Flynn’s blood running down his neck fills me with a fury the likes of which I had never felt before.

  No, I think, we have not come this close to freedom only to be stopped like this. With these thoughts running through my head, I play my most desperate card. With all my remaining strength, I drive my elbow hard into Ash’s ribs, taking her by surprise, giving me enough time to retrieve my spare knife from my belt.

  Desperately, I fling it at Marek. The blade spirals through the air, forcing Marek to jump out of its path. This distraction is all Flynn needs. In one swift motion, he snatches the knife from Marek and drives it deep into his shoulder. Marek gives a cry of rage and pain as Flynn pushes him to the ground. He dashes over to where Heath lays unconscious, either from pain or blood loss, and swings him over his shoulder. In the confusion we sprint off, knowing we only have seconds until they regroup and hunt us down.