OBSIDIAN GUARD BOOK 2

CHAPTER 11 BRUTE FORCE LOGIC

POV Gideon

The air of Obsidian Guard was starting to taste like frustration. I had spent hours roaming the city, my eyes darting between every pale-skinned boy and every sharp-featured woman in leather.

I was a Heart Weaver. I could hear every heartbeat, and each sang a slightly different song. I had memorized the heartbeats of the two from last night and was sure I could find them again, but after a long search, I realized relying on my ability wasn't going to be enough.

I also then realized, with a sudden, stinging jab of irritation, that I was an i***t. I didn't know their names. I'd called her "Valry" and him "Little Flower."

I hadn't asked where they worked, where they lived, or most importantly, where to find them again. In my own city, it wouldn't have been an issue. I knew everyone, and everyone knew us. If I wanted to find someone, I just asked, and it would get done.

This was not Ironspire, though, and I did not have the same resources here.

I wanted that night to happen again so desperately. I wanted the way the woman looked at me like she owned the air in my lungs, and I wanted the way the boy had broken for me. It was a hunger I didn't know how to feed, and the aimless walking was only making me want to hit something.

I stepped into a narrow, lightless alley between two warehouses.

"Lucian!" I barked, my voice echoing off the damp walls. "Get your skinny ass out of the shadows. I know you're there."

For a moment, there was nothing but the hiss of a nearby steam vent. Then, the shadows in the corner didn't just move; they unraveled. Lucian stepped out, looking as unimpressed as always, his dark cloak blending perfectly with the midnight stone.

"You're shouting in alleys, Gideon," Lucian said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Very regal. Very 'Syndicate.' I'm sure Alistaire would be proud of your investigative techniques."

"Shut up," I rumbled, leaning my shoulder against the opposite wall. "I can't find them. I don't have names. Just nicknames. I feel like a drunk who lost his purse."

Lucian let out a soft, mocking snort. "You've finally found a heart that beats back, and you didn't think to ask for a last name? You're a brute, brother. A big, sentimental brute." His expression softened just a fraction.

"Jasmine was right, though. You're... different. Your shadows are restless. You're obsessed."

"I'm not obsessed," I lied, though my pulse betrayed me. "I just... I like the way they look at me. It's not like Ironspire. They don't look at me like I'm a weapon they're afraid will go off. They look at me like I'm something they want just for them."

"Disturbing," Lucian muttered, though he gave a small, supportive shrug.

"I'll see what the shadows can find. A willow-thin boy with welts and a woman named Valry who likes leather and has more scars than a mine-guard. Shouldn't be too hard to track in a city this small."

"Thanks, Lu," I said, a rare bit of sincerity slipping through.

"Don't thank me yet. Try not to die while I'm gone." Lucian began to melt back into the darkness. "And Gid? Try to keep your hands to yourself for five minutes."

He was gone before I could throw a punch at him.

The alley went silent again. I stood there, the frustration bubbling back up to the surface. I needed a release. I needed the world to stop being so quiet and start being loud again.

As if the gods were listening to my prayers, four silhouettes appeared at the end of the alley, blocking the exit. They were big, wearing the rough tunics of dockworkers, and carrying heavy iron pipes.

They must have spotted my expensive boots, clothing, and the lack of obvious weapons, and thought I was an easy mark. A tourist who had wandered too far from the Gilded Vein Luxury Hotel.

"You lost, pretty boy?" the one in the middle sneered. "This is a private road. Toll is everything you've got in your pockets."

A slow, vicious grin spread across my face. I felt the weight of my coin purse and the heat of my own blood finally singing.

"Exactly what I needed," I whispered, my voice thick with a happy, terrifying joy.

I didn't use my Heart-Weave yet. I didn't need to make their hearts stop. I wanted to feel their ribs break under my knuckles. I wanted to make enough noise that the city guards would have to come running.

If I couldn't find "Valry" and my Little Flower on the streets, I'd make the Queen herself come and pull me out of a cell to ask her. As her "guarantee" for the meeting, she couldn't afford to let me rot.

"Well?" I challenged, beckoning them forward with a flick of my wrist. "Come on then. Make me believe you're actually going to try."

The first one lunged. I stepped into his guard, my fist connecting with his jaw with a sound like a wet branch snapping. Oh, yeah, I thought, as the second one swung a pipe. This is going to get her attention.

The second one came to swing, and I stepped inside his arc, the pipe whistling past my ear, and drove my palm into his solar plexus. The air left him in a wheeze, and before he could double over, I brought my fist up under his jaw.

Crack.

The sound was a beautiful, sharp punctuation mark. He went airborne for a second before his head hit the wall, and he slumped into a heap.

"Two," I counted, my voice low and giddy.

The other two froze. The bravado had drained out of them, replaced by a cold, sharp spike of terror that tasted like copper on my tongue. I loved that taste.

I reached out with my weave, not to stop their hearts, just to listen. The one on the left was vibrating, literally vibrating, his pulse so fast it was blurring into a single, high-pitched whine.

"You're a Weaver," the big one stammered, his grip tightening on his lead pipe. "You're one of them. From the Spire."

"Guilty as charged," I said, stepping over the first body. I spread my arms wide, leaving my chest completely exposed.

"What are you waiting for? I'm right here. Hit me. Give me a reason to show you what I do to people who interrupt my walk."

The big one roared, a desperate, animal sound, and swung low, aiming for my knees. I hopped over the pipe, caught him by the back of the neck, and slammed his face into my rising knee. I felt his nose shatter, a wet, crunching sensation that sent a jolt of pure adrenaline straight to my groin.

I didn't let him fall. I held him up by the collar, watching his eyes roll back as his heart skipped a beat, then two. I could have ended it there, but I wanted the noise. I wanted the spectacle.

I threw him into a stack of empty wooden crates, the wood splintering with a satisfying boom that echoed down the narrow alley.

The fourth guy didn't even try. He dropped his weapon and turned to run.

"Oh, no you don't," I laughed. I didn't move my feet. I just reached out with a thread of my weave and gave his heart a sharp, agonizing tug.

He hit the ground as if he'd been shot, clutching his chest, gasping for air that wouldn't come. I walked over to him, standing over him like a god of the pits.

"Don't worry, little rabbit. It's just a cramp. It'll pass... eventually."

I looked toward the end of the alley. The sounds of breaking wood and screaming had done the trick. I could hear the rhythmic clank of heavy boots and the shimmer of obsidian-powered lanterns approaching.

"Halt! In the name of the Guard!" a voice boomed.

Six Thanes rounded the corner, their black armor gleaming in the lantern light. They saw the bodies, the blood on my knuckles, and me, standing there with a grin that probably looked as unhinged as I felt.

They leveled their pikes at me, the tips glowing with a faint, violet light from the embedded stones.

"Hands behind your head! Down on your knees!"

I didn't put my hands up. I just looked at the lead guard, a tall woman with a scar running across her throat, and winked.

"I'm a guest of honor," I said, my voice carrying that dangerous, playful edge.

"And I think I've just violated my parole. You'd better call your Queen. I have a feeling she's the only one who knows how to handle me."

The guards didn't hesitate. They moved in, and for a second, I thought about breaking all of them, too. But then I remembered the plan.

I wanted to see her. I wanted to see the look on her face when she realized she had chosen me as a hostage, and I was the one making a mess of her perfect, orderly city for it.

I let them kick my legs out from under me. I let them slam my face into the cold, damp stone of the alley. As they ratcheted the iron cuffs around my wrists, cuffs lined with gems, I just closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of the city.

One thing I hadn't accounted for was the stones. Whatever gems they'd set into these cuffs dampened my weave instantly, snapping the connection like a cut tether. It was a jarring sensation; the world went deathly quiet without the constant, rhythmic song of everyone's heartbeats.

I'd eventually learned how to tune the noise out on my own, but not before I'd lost a piece of my sanity, and a good chunk of my actual hearing, to the constant drumming.

I usually lived in a world of thumps and murmurs. Now, a new kind of fear gripped me. In this vacuum, I couldn't hear anything but the frantic, thudding rhythm of my own heart.

It was worth it, though. If this stunt led me back to those two or just to finding more about the Queen, I'd endure this silence. Besides, I knew Lucian could break me out of any cage this city had without even breaking a sweat.

The Thanes didn't speak as they hauled me through the winding, subterranean tunnels beneath the Queen's tower. The air grew colder the deeper we went, smelling of old damp and the sharp, metallic tang of the dampening stones.

Without my weave, I felt heavy. Clumsy. I was just a big man in a dark hole, and for a second, the silence felt like it was crushing my ribs.

They threw me into a cell that was more of a glass box than a room. Three walls were solid obsidian; the fourth was a shimmering field of violet fog just as strong as any wall.