The sound of the cleaver biting into the frosted cobblestones was a dull, wet thud that shivered up Cattleya”s spine. She threw herself to the left, the iron blade whistling through the air where her throat had been a heartbeat before. Sparks flew as the metal struck the stone, but there was no elegance in the motion, only the desperate, frantic thrashing of two animals dying in a cage.
Cattleya scrambled backward, her boots slipping on the frozen slush that was slick with the long-dried fluids of the dead. She felt the sharp, jagged edge of a broken storefront window tear through the fabric of her coat, biting into her shoulder, but she didn”t feel the pain”only a cold, hollow vertigo.
"You're fast, 801," Sarah hissed. She didn”t run; she glided with an erratic, jittery gait, like a bro
