Razor’s Edge Book 3 inThe Horde Wars An Ellora’s Cave publication Sherri L. King MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360- Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML © Copyright Sherri L. King, 2003. All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave. Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. USA Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of communication without author/publisher permission. Edited by Karen W. Williams Cover Art by Darrell King As always, For D. Lead me from the unreal to the real! Lead me from darkness to light! Lead me from death to immortality! -The Upanishads (800-500 B.C.) Who ever loved that loved not at first sight? -William Shakespeare Prologue “Freeze, asshole!” The giant in the black trench coat did as she commanded and slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. As he did so, Emily carefully advanced on him, her Glock 23 service handgun aimed and at the ready should the man prove threatening. “Just what do you think you’re doing, here, huh?” With one hand she retrieved her handcuffs and moved behind him. “Hands behind your head,” she bit out. “Running around with knives is dangerous—didn’t your mother ever tell you that?” The man didn’t acknowledge her, except to follow her order and slowly place his hands behind his head. Emily huffed and wondered idly where her backup was. She’d called in her position several minutes ago while she’d still been in hot pursuit of the man in the black coat. Not that the man had seemed to notice her pursuit. He’d been too busy throwing his knives at some ruffian gang members who’d at least been wise enough to her presence that they’d kept themselves concealed in shadow. “Why’d you run? Did you honestly think you could get away? Honey, with your height, you couldn’t blend in at a Knicks ’ game, much less out here on the streets.” Holstering her gun, she grabbed his wrists—one at a time—and lowered them behind his back. It was hard to ignore the obvious strength of those wrists and she was at once grateful that he seemed disinclined to put up a struggle. She wrapped the silver cuffs around his thick, masculine wrists and clamped them shut. In the back of her mind she wondered how in the hell she was going to get this nearly seven foot monster into the back of her squad car. She hoped fervently that he didn’t suddenly decide to give her any trouble. Her eyes roved over the back of him, from his waist-length auburn hair—shining straight and dark, it was the kind of hair every woman yearned for—to his long legs and large booted feet. Cautiously, she moved her hand to the stun gun holstered at her leg. She gritted her teeth against a thrill of alarm at his sheer size and obvious strength. If he tried anything she’d be ready to give him a good shock with the TASER in rebuttal. No way was he escaping on her watch—she’d never let one get away yet. It was why her colleagues revered her so, despite her genteel sex and appearance. She hunted the bad guys down, captured them, and brought them to justice.Every time.Without fail. Once she had the trail of a perp on the run there was no escaping from her. Come hell or high water she was always determined to come out the victor of any battle. Evidence enough to support her reputation—if anyone ever heard the facts—she’d chased this giant for over two miles before he’d stopped.On foot.She’d have chased him a few more if he hadn’t given in to the inevitable and slowed for his arrest. Pride in her work, pride in herself, pride in her position as keeper of the peace would have kept her on his heels, if nothing else, though she was glad he’d surrendered all the same. But she had to admit to herself—more than pride, it was largely curiosity that drove her now.Curiosity about this mysterious giant in black. Who was he? What was he doing out here on the streets in the middle of the night? And where in the hell had he learned to throw knives like that? She’d seen the glint of the streetlights, of the moonlight, reflecting on those blades in his hands as he’d fought his assailants. She’d seen him throw the blades, seen them return to him like razor blade boomerangs. It had been incredible to see. It had also been monumentally dangerous and illegal, which is where she came into the picture. He’d meant to kill those men. That had been clear enough, and she had to wonder…would he have killed them if she hadn’t shown up flashing her badge and her gun? As soon as she’d declared herself and ordered the men to surrender they’d all run from her, keeping to the shadows as if that would keep them safe fromher. But this man had followed them, as if he meant to finish what he’d started, no matter that she—a cop—was giving chase. “Got any needles or weapons in your pockets?” She asked the question out of habit, out of training. The man didn’t respond, merely stood there.Waiting. For what Emily didn’t care to know. Let him be stoic while he could…she’d break him down in the interrogation room later. She patted him down from behind, careful to be wary of any surprises she might find in the folds of his clothing. There were none. All that she found in his pockets were half a dozen tiny glass vials of sludgy black muck—no doubt some new drug she was as yet unfamiliar with. “Turn around,” she ordered. The man complied and she moved to pat him down from the new angle.Then stopped. The man was practically nude under his coat—covered only in a substance that resembled thick liquid latex. But for his boots, his attire looked painted on over the naked planes of his body. And man oh man, what a body he had under that coat. Great. Why do I always get the wackos?she thought to herself. It must be because she worked the graveyard shift. They only come out at night . “Well, we can add public indecency to the list of charges against you,” she muttered and proceeded to read him his Miranda Rights. The man interrupted her, his voice like syrup in her ears. “You might want to get behind me, woman.” His words were educated, refined. Oddly cold and warm at the same time, though she couldn’t understand or comprehend the combination. “Are you threatening me, honey?” she asked, raising her eyebrow in a look she knew could bring even the most cold-hearted of men to their knees. It had taken her nearly thirty-two years to learn how to use her looks and her voice like a weapon. She was a master at it and used it against the black-coated mannow, hoping fervently that her backup arrived sooner rather than later. “No. But they will.” He nodded his head in the direction behind her. She knew better—she was certainly not fool enough to fall for such an old trick—but she looked over her shoulder anyway. Three hulking men crouched in the shadows there, staring at them. “Holy shit,” she whispered, knowing that something serious was about to happen, whether she wanted it to or not. One of the men rushed at them, so fast that Emily’s heart lurched with instinctive alarm. She wouldn’t have time to draw her gun—she knew it with a sick feeling in her stomach. At least her stun gun was already palmed and waiting. Her body went cold and her mind steely as training took over the normal human fear that threatened to spill through her. But she hadn’t counted on the man behind her jumping into the equation. In her preoccupation with the rushing man and his stalking comrades she’d almost forgotten him. Unbelievably foolish and amateurish, she had to admit, though only to herself. The man moved like lightning to herd her with his body against the wall of the alleyway. Blue-white blades shot out like spiked bracelets around his wrists and his handcuffs fell away in pieces to the ground. Those strange blades of his had cut through the steel like it was butter, though Emily barely had time to gasp over such a wonder. His body pressed back against her violently, penning her in so tightly that she barely had the option of movement, though she struggled like mad to get the stun gun into a position suitable for zapping him without injury toherself . The man who’d been rushing at them came on, growling and snarling like an animal as he met and clashed with the man in the black coat. Emily leaned around the dark figure to see some of what was going on. A stray sliver of light from a nearby streetlamp illuminated the attacker’s face for an instant…but that instant was enough to strike fear and shock into Emily’s heart with the force of a hammer’s blow. It was no man after all, but a monster. A monster! The form and shape of it was that of a muscular man of above average height, with terrible posture. It was this shape that had fooled her into thinking it was just some rogue criminal or gang member during the chase. But now she saw the slimy, blackened skin.The sharp, dripping fangs.The ten-inch, jagged claws that adorned its overlarge hands. And the eyes.The glowing orange eyes, bloodshot, bulging and oozing yellow pus… Emily closed her eyes against the horror of it. To see intelligence lurking in the depths of such hellish eyes was to know true terror. If such a thing could exist, could think and possesses self-awareness…then all the gods were surely dead. And the world was trulyon its own as so many children of the new millennia had feared. There was evil in the world of men. And now that Emily knew it she feared she would never feel safe again. ...
widez2