The Burning Hand Read Free

straightened my mask.
    Everything hurt, particularly my hands, from the gutter, and my ego, from tripping and falling off a roof.
    By the time I made it to my feet, I was surrounded.
    Ten Nightmare grunts. Great. Four of Hensley’s guards. Even better. Plus, the Nightmare leader and Hensley themselves, just to complete my humiliation.
    I exhaled a low oath. Now what? If Lord Hensley caught me—
    No. I wouldn’t let him.
    I drew my sword and put my back to the wall and trash.
    One of the Nightmares laughed. “I’m almost afraid he’s going to impale himself.”
    My face heated and I was grateful for my mask, but any smart retort died on my lips. Hensley was leaning toward the Nightmare woman.
    â€œKnow him?”
    She shook her head. “I assumed he was one of yours.”
    Hensley narrowed his eyes and stepped toward me, his magic-wielding hands at his sides. “Not one of mine. Though there have been some reports of a masked vigilante. I came across one recently wearing the mask of Saint Fade Christopher. . . .” His voice held a note of amusement, like he expected I was the same person.
    He started to reach for me. To rip off my mask?
    I didn’t think.
    I reacted.
    I lunged toward him and sliced my sword through the air.
    He jerked back.
    Not fast enough.
    My blade hit resistance, but the force and momentum were too strong. The sword went through Hensley’s right wrist. His hand came flying off.
    He screamed wordlessly and then everything was chaos. Nightmares rushed in, their weapons raised. One of them had my jeweled knife pointed at my heart. Two of Hensley’s guards hurried to help him, while the others joined the Nightmares.
    Before I realized, everyone was moving. I swung my swordand dodged a punch. Metal clacked and fire raced across my thigh. I gasped and lashed back with my blade, but it was too late. I’d left myself unguarded and the Nightmares took advantage of it.
    Pain sizzled where a chain lashed across my ribs. I gasped and doubled over, and someone laughed as they slapped my sword from my grip.
    That was it. Suddenly, kicking me was a game.
    One shoved me into the pile of trash and they surrounded me. A huge metal pipe crashed against my hand, numbing up to my shoulder. With a pathetic groan, I tried to pick myself up to make some kind of defense, but a man’s boot fell to my chest and shoved me back down.
    Through the wall of bodies around me, and my dimming vision, I caught the Nightmare woman leaving with several of her people. Lord Hensley and all his guards were already gone, his hand with him, likely.
    â€œMaybe we’ll cut off his hand.” One of the women took up my sword and drew it back to strike.
    I struggled for my feet, but one of the men had come around behind me to press his big, meaty hands on my shoulders and neck. Another waved my jeweled knife in my face for a second before pressing the tip against the hollow of my throat. My breath hissed and the edges of my vision dimmed. Someone else bashed my knees as I struggled to lift my legs to kick.
    I couldn’t move.
    A man grabbed my hand and stretched out my fingers. “Watch your aim,” he joked.
    The woman lifted my sword above her head. My vision wasso foggy I could barely see it as she brought it down. I tried to brace for pain, but I could hardly think. No matter how I struggled to escape, it was futile. I was going to lose my hand. And then my life.
    The pain never came.
    â€œI really like that shiny knife.” It was a girl’s voice. “I want it.”
    The pressure on my throat lightened. I gagged and pressed my hands against my masked face as the men holding me down took to their feet.
    There was no time to catch my breath, though. When I looked up, I caught sight of the Nightmares facing off with four girls, my age and younger. The girls were holding their own, though. Armed with daggers and long knives, they ducked in and out of the