Infidel Read Free

most of the gun’s spray on the door instead of her belly. She was young, slight, and fast. Her burnous was dusty, and she wore a dark tunic. Nyx wasn’t sure how much damage the scattergun had done.  
    The woman launched herself at her. Nyx fired again and drew her sword. The woman fell into a roll and came up with a knife.
    Screams sounded from inside the deli.  
    Nyx caught the first thrust of the knife with the gun, pushed it back. She thrust at the woman with her sword. The woman leapt back.  
    Bloody fucking fast for a mercenary, Nyx thought. Her head swam.  
    The knife lashed out at her again. Caught Nyx on the cheek. Nyx flinched, retreated. The woman grinned.  
    Cocky, Nyx thought.  
    Nyx let the woman push her back to the end of the alley. She parried most of the knife thrusts, but caught a couple on her forearms. There was nothing worse than a knife fight. Fuck around too long and you’d be in ribbons.  
    Nyx was within an arm’s length of the wall. The knife flicked at her again. The woman’s eyes were shiny—she must be new to the game—and sweat beaded her upper lip. Nyx caught the knife with her blade and pushed—hard. In the same motion, she threw her left hand out—the hand holding the gun—in a hard left hook.  
    The gun connected with the woman’s temple. Her head lolled to one side. She stumbled. Her hands sagged. Then she crumpled like a drunken kitten.  
    Nyx raised her head and looked back toward the deli. There had been two of them. Where was the other one?
    She slipped just into the next alley and kept her sword out. Sweat trickled into her eyes. She wiped it away, blinked furiously. She heard a noise in the alley, and chanced a look.  
    The second woman was up on the roof, taking in the full measure of the alley. She had a scattergun drawn. Nyx made herself flat against the wall, waited.  
    Nyx was a terrible shot from any range.  
    “Suha,” she said softly. The name triggered the tailored red beetle in her ear. It opened the connection.  
    “What you got?”
    “Two women. Possible assassins. Bagged one in the alley. I got another one on the roof of the deli behind me. You got my position?”
    “Yeah.”  
    “You still on point?”
    “I’m moving to intercept. Eshe says you’re in shit shape.”
    “I’m fine. But I’ve got a second shooter. I need you to intercept.”  
    “On it. Got a description?”  
    Nyx gave her a description of the second shooter. When she looked back, the woman was no longer on the rooftop. “Lost visual on the roof of the deli,” Nyx said. “Check the street outside.”  
    “I’m six blocks away.”
    “Watch your ass. They’re good. Young, but good.”  
    “So am I,” Suha said.  
    Nyx ducked back into the alley behind the deli and sheathed her sword. She crouched next to the woman and patted her down. The clothes were worn, dirty, but good quality. The burnous was organic, which wasn’t cheap. She found two more knives and about five bucks in loose change—not an insubstantial amount of cash.  
    “Who the fuck are you?” Nyx muttered. A wave of dizziness passed over her again. She breathed deeply through her nose.  
    The woman began to stir. Nyx pulled out some sticky bands from the pack at her hip and bound the woman’s hands behind her. As she pulled up the burnous, she saw a flash of red. She paused. Stared. A red letter was tucked into the back of the woman’s trousers.  
    Nyx went very still for the space of a breath.  
    Then she pulled out the red letter and yanked it open. It was a bel dame’s assassination note. The note wasn’t written up for Nyx or Mercia, but for some inland kid with a smoky face and big eyes. Only a bel dame would carry one of these notes. What the fuck was a bel dame doing hunting down the daughter to a diplomat without a red letter order to do it? Or was she running some kind of black work?  
    The woman was groaning now.  
    “Bel dame, huh?” Nyx said, and snorted. “Might be