His attention whipped to the side, and he saw that Ava was kneeling, aiming her own pyre-gun. That’s my girl. Pride filled him. Noelle and the trainees were there, too, aiming guns of their own.
The civilians on the sidewalks cried out, scampering out of the way, and soon the area was deserted.
“You okay?” Ava called.
“I’m fine. Let’s get you out of here, though. I’m not sure how long stun will last, and—”
A new group of warriors appeared behind Ava and the others. Before McKell could stop time—before he could do anything—fists were pummeling at his woman. And then, as he raced forward, his ability not helping in any way, a sharp pain tore through his back, and he fell face-first into the pavement.
Twenty-eight
Taken unaware, Ava thought as stars obscured her vision. Someone had punched her in the head from behind. She’d been feeling all smug and superior, getting the group of trainees to Noelle’s van, then making them haul ass back to her apartment building without thinking ahead or announcing her plans.
She’d wanted to pat herself on the back when she’d stunned the men about to attack McKell. She’d wanted to preen when McKell had looked over and realized she had helped, his expression hot and sweet and proud.
Then she’d felt breath on the back of her neck, had seen horror fill McKell’s violet eyes. A hard, meaty club had slammed into her temple, knocking her sideways. But when she turned, no one was behind her.
“Let’s kill ‘em!” Noelle shouted.
“Without drawing blood!” Ava added, pulling herself to her knees. An odd statement, coming from her. Usually when she fought someone, she wanted blood to pour. “Now let’s get these bastards!”
As if her cry was the starting bell, the trainees burst into action. Fists battered, legs kicked. A few were cut by the otherworlders, several were knocked down, and one was even tossed into the street and run over by a car, its sensors not, well, sensing him in time.
Where was McKell? She couldn’t see him. He can take care of himself.
The aliens moved quickly, strongly, assuredly, doing their damage before spinning and inflicting more. Too bad for them, she’d fought men who were quicker, stronger, and far more assured. She ducked when she needed to duck, punched in the throat, chest, stomach, and groin when given the opportunity, and jumped out of the way when all else failed.
They could have bitten her, that would have infected her, but they didn’t. Didn’t even try. And it was strange. The fight would have been over then. Instead, they punched and kicked her. The others weren’t so lucky. They were knifed.
Jeremy’s arms looked like tattered ribbons, and the rest of the gang like discarded rags. Noelle faired better than any of them, even the aliens. She’d confiscated three blades already, and slammed the hilts into their owners’ temples. All three fell to the pavement, unconscious. Ava thought she spied blood on one—a cracked lip. There wasn’t time to check it out. Or worry.
The moment they hit, they disappeared. They weren’t just invisible, they were gone. Ava tried to kick one as he fell, not realizing what would happen, and encountered only air, falling flat on her ass. Oxygen abandoned her in one massive heave; stars winked over her eyes.
Through those stars, she could see a bulky black form flying her way, silver blade flashing in the sunlight. She barely had enough breath to shout, “Tag team!”
Noelle understood instantly. With a whirl, her friend was in front of her, absorbing the impact. She knew where Ava was, and managed to send the male away from her. He hit the pavement, hard, his skull cracking. Every muscle in his body relaxed, his head lolling to the side, and like the others, he disappeared. Only, he left a puddle of blood behind. No maybe about it.
“Shit!” Ava shouted, scrambling back and dragging Noelle with her. “Schön blood!”
Probably looking for a host …
With the thought, her stomach cramped, and she moved in front of Noelle, as if she could block her friend from contamination. She would rather endure infection herself then risk Noelle. Or McKell. Hell, she’d willingly accept the disease if it meant saving them.
A second later, a wave of dizziness hit her. Before she had time to panic, that wave dissipated.
The trainees caught on quick and scampered onto the street, willing to risk any oncoming traffic over the disease. Several Schön warriors were still standing, still geared up for—and clearly wanting—a fight.
They approached … Stun rays hit them; they didn’t stop.
Ava geared up, too, waiting. “Anyone touch it?” she demanded.
A chorus of “no”s rang out, but none of them sounded sure. No, they sounded scared.
Once again she glanced over to where McKell had been standing. This time, she saw him. Her eyes widened, her stomach clenching. He was down, an ax handle sticking out of his back, but he was pulling himself to his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear his mind, irises glazed but expression determined, furious. His exposed skin was bright red and blistered, steam rising from him and curling around him.
Fury of her own filled her, so much fury, as bright as the sun currently was. Worry and dread, too, but they couldn’t compete with the fury. No one but Ava was allowed to hurt him. She forgot about the spilled blood, forgot about the consequences. Only thoughts of saving McKell had any bearing.
She launched forward—or would have, if Noelle hadn’t grabbed her by the shoulders, tossed her to the ground, and pinned her.
“No,” her friend shouted. “Stay.”
“They hurt McKell,” she screeched, struggling for all she was worth.
Noelle held tight. “He’ll live.”
“You don’t know that!” Damn it, how was her friend so strong? “He needs my help.”
“I can’t let you risk it.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Ava managed to twist free and was on her feet a second later, stalking toward her prey.
Two steps in, she saw past the red haze surrounding her and realized that McKell, injured though he was, had things under control. He had snapped the necks of all but one warrior, who was flailing in his grip. Stilling. Dropping. Disappearing.
And just like that, the fight was over. The physical part, at least.
“Call Mia,” Ava threw over her shoulder. “This area needs to be quarantined.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she rushed toward McKell. His gaze burned her, and he met her halfway, his arms immediately wrapping around her. Those same arms had just murdered four men, but they were tender with her.