Page 161 of The Dragon and the Dove

She pressed her lips together, swallowing the truth, but she couldn’t hide the shudder that ran through her as they walked on. Or how her teeth chattered in her mouth.

They were getting warmer.

Ransom said again. ‘Where?’

Caruso pointed his sword at her. ‘Start talking, Nadia.’

Ransom slapped it down. ‘What is wrong with you?’

‘Just trying to speed things along.’

Nadia kept her silence, but those gold eyes shot wide. Horror twisted her features, her lips forming the word no just as Caruso’s triumphant bark rang out.

‘Well, speak of the devil,’ he said. ‘And I do mean that literally.’

Ransom turned as Lark loped out of a laneway up ahead.

‘Hell’s teeth, Delano,’ called Caruso. ‘You look worse than the kid did.’

The Necromancer was a terror to behold, the enamel of his skull gleaming under pale grey skin. His legs and arms were reeds, his hair so thin now the last auburn wisps stood on end.

His eyes were wild and pinned on Nadia, as though she were an apparition. ‘I swore it was you. I felt it. Right here.’ His breastbone cracked as he slammed his fist against it. ‘You’re alive.’ The words sang of surprise and the last vestiges of his humanity. ‘How?’

‘Fate,’ said Nadia, grasping at her throat. She stumbled backwards, as though his mere presence was hurting her. ‘Seraphine.’

Lark blinked, shock twisting to betrayal. ‘And now you’re with them?’

Ransom pulled Saintkiller from his waistband. Nadia leaped at him, hooking her forearm around his neck and dragging him down to the ground.

To Lark, she screamed, ‘RUN!’

Lark ran.

Caruso chased him, while Ransom grappled with Nadia. She pinned him to the cobbles, her hands flat against his shoulders, but even in her desperation her strength was no match for his. He bucked her off and she hit the kerb with a curse. By the time she was on her feet, Ransom was already gone, sprinting through the Hollows like a beast on the hunt.

The advantage was theirs. Lark’s muscles had wasted, and his rotting bones could only carry him so far. As his speed lagged, he dodged to the left, making for an alley between a bordello and a dilapidated tavern.

Caruso tracked him, sword in hand.

Ransom followed on his heels.

They converged on their former friend, herding Lark to the end of the lane, where a brick wall stopped him dead. No chance for escape, but he tried it anyway, climbing the edge of a dumpster and leaping for a narrow window ledge. Caruso flung his sword with such precise force that it pinned the Necromancer to the wall by his right hand.

Lark screamed as the blade went through him. There was no blood, just the splintering of bone as he swung away from the wall, hanging like a puppet by the blade. His feet scrabbled for purchase, finding the rim of a trash can.

He spat as he faced them. ‘Two self-righteous saints. What did you do to earn the Maker’s favour, Caruso? Stick your tongue down her throat like Ransom does?’

Ransom fired a brick at his face. Lark jerked, taking the brunt on the side of his head.

Caruso chuckled over the sound of his cracking skull. ‘Simple stuff, Lark. I don’t try to kill her every time I see her.’

‘You should have stayed with us,’ growled Lark.

‘Oh? Because it’s all going so well,’ said Caruso, dryly.

Lark rolled his head towards Ransom. ‘Here is your grand prize, dog. The head of your oldest friend. Perhaps your Maker will toss you a treat when you return with it.’

‘Sounds like someone wants another brick in his face,’ taunted Caruso.