“Hey! If you’re not getting off, then sit down!” the driver said.
They stepped off the bus onto a much darker and less busy street. As the bus pulled away, Wylder turned to him. “What does that mean?”
“Everything…or nothing. I’m not sure yet.”
Before Silva could say anything else, three forms detached from the shadows across the street and headed straight for them.
Chapter
Five
Wylder
Before Wylder could react, Silva had a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He stepped in front of Wylder.
“Stay behind me.”
The dark shapes coming toward them were a blur in the shadows between streetlights. Silva moved suddenly, darting to the left, and a clang of steel filled the air.
Wylder sucked in a breath and tried to calm his racing heart. Silva became a blur of motion in front of him, the air from his body and their attackers washing over Wylder without him ever really seeing what was happening mere feet from where he stood.
Finally jolting himself to action, Wylder pressed his back to the brick building behind them and tried to follow the fight that he had no chance of surviving without Silva.
One moment, the singing slash of steel against steel rang out again, then a harsh yell, and Silva was in front of him. There wasa streak of blood across his cheek and a dark spot staining the right side of his abdomen.
“Silva,” Wylder said, reaching out to get a hold of him.
“I’m fine, but we have to move.”
Wylder glanced over Silva’s shoulder, and there in the street were three bodies. He couldn’t make out all the details in the darkness, but at the sight of one severed head, he swallowed hard and looked back at Silva’s face.
“Come on. There will be more. We’ve got to get off the street.”
Silva
Getting Wylder off the street was the only thing Silva could think about. The shallow gash across his belly stung like a bitch, but he ignored it. Glancing up at the street signs, he grabbed Wylder’s hand and took off at a jog, knowing Wylder would keep up with him.
Zavia hadn’t been kidding about the underbelly being in a state of unrest. Alban had never shied away from giving him information before, and Silva had certainly never been attacked in the street in plain view of anyone caring to look.
They’d been vampires, and he could only assume they were aligned with whatever group Ansel had spoken of. They wanted the door open. The fact that they knew enough to come after Silva meant they knew who’d been guarding it for the last thirty years.
The only silver lining was that it felt like they’d wanted to take Silva alive, being more focused on wounding him than killinghim or getting to Wylder. Which meant they didn’t yet know that Wylder was the key. He hoped, anyway.
He had two safehouses in this city. The closest one he hadn’t set foot in in a long time. He regretted that now as he turned between two buildings. He hoped the wards he’d placed had held up over the years.
“Where are we going?” Wylder was right on his heels, keeping up with the pace Silva set without missing a step.
“Safehouse.” Silva glanced over his shoulder to meet Wylder’s turquoise gaze. “It’s not far.”
The safehouse was actually more of a studio apartment in an old four-story, red-brick building. When they reached the building, they slipped into the foyer. It was empty. Scuffed hardwood floors and the mixed smell of multiple dinners cooking greeted them.
“It’s up here.” He pulled Wylder to the old staircase and started up, ignoring the way the steps creaked beneath his feet. At the apartment door on the third floor, he placed a hand on the knob and whispered the incantation to unseal the wards.
He let out a relieved breath when the lock clicked open. Pushing the door open, he waited for Wylder to walk through, then closed and locked it up tight again—locksandwards.
A light flicked on behind him. Warm yellow light from the lamp he’d found at a secondhand store filled the space. He turned around to find Wylder with a little grin on his face.
“I’ve always wanted to hide out in a safehouse.”