Broken Quill [2] Read Online Free Page B

that knowing a sixth sense, a tingle of Will, born through
years of war and brutal training at the Infernal Academy.
    Trying to kill me from a distance
like that…. Well, it was smart, I guess. I had a helluva track record for
surviving close encounters with killers—save for one small blemish in the heart
of Atlantis three months ago. If he was a hired gun, a normal human with no
ties to Forget, then he would have to escape the old fashioned way.
    But if he was Willful, which was
actually much more likely given that he was targeting me, then he may have
already escaped. A Knight or a Renegade could have used any novel of the Story
Thread to slip out of this world and into another. The shooter could have been
a thousand universes away already.
    The automatic doors slid open on
silent hinges, and a cool blast of chilled air washed over Brie and me,
dispersing the sticky heat of the day. Our footsteps echoed loudly on clean
marble floors.
    I looked at the detective, and she
drew her sidearm again.
    The lobby was a wide-open space,
well lit, with a set of polished wooden stairs leading up to the second floor
opposite a bank of clear glass elevators. It was also deserted. Not a soul in
sight. From the center of the lobby, I looked up and could see all the way
through the heart of the building to the top floor, about five stories high.
    “Quiet, don’t you think?” I
muttered.
    A loud thump echoed from above,
shattering the silence. Brie snapped her head up just as two figures impacted
against the waist-high barrier on the third floor. I caught a flash of dark
hair and a bald, tattooed head. With a sharp cry, the brawling pair tumbled over the barrier, ten meters up.
    Brie gasped, and I pulled us both a
careful step back as the two men plummeted down through the air and struck the
floor at our feet. The larger, bald man hit first, and Ethan—bless his quick
thinking—landed on top of him. A long, black duffel bag hit the floor nearby.
    Ethan rolled off the bald man with a
groan. His lip was bloody, and it looked as though he’d taken one awesome right
hook to his left eye, which was swelling shut fast. His good eye focused on me,
and he made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
    “He’s all yours, boss.”
    Baldy was dressed in a simple pair
of jeans and an Army surplus–green jacket. He shuffled away from Ethan, dragging
himself with his palms. A steady trickle of blood dribbled down his chin from
his mouth. If this was our shooter, then I hoped something vital was bleeding.
    Surprising Brie and me both, he spun
on his leg and made it to one knee.
    “Don’t move!” Brie said, raising her
gun to cover the man.
    Baldy thought about it, and I saw
the look on his face and knew what was going to happen next. His eyes narrowed,
survival mode kicked in, and his lips pulled back from his bloodied teeth in a
snarl. I’d seen that look in the eyes of a hundred Renegades—men and women I’d
killed during the Tome Wars. I’d seen it in King Morpheus Renegade’s eyes when
I’d pierced his heart with the Roseblade atop the highest tower in Atlantis,
and I’d seen it in the eyes of his Immortal Queen, Emily Grace, as she had
kicked me broken and bleeding from the top of that same tower.
    His hand slipped lightning-fast into
his jacket and emerged carrying a cold, silver pistol. Baldy swung the gun
around, toward Brie. My palms burst to life with ethereal, Willful light—
    A clear shot rang out and echoed
through the lobby.
    The bullet took my would-be-assassin
right between the eyes. His head snapped back, and a spray of gore—blood, bone,
and brain—exited his skull.
    He died before he hit the floor.
    Detective Brie whimpered—a small,
lonely sound somewhere between a cry and a gasp—and swayed on the spot. I
banished the Will from my palms before she saw it and made to catch her, but
she steadied herself and kept her gun aimed at Baldy.
    The commotion had finally brought
people out of the lecture theatres and workshops