began to convulse very convincingly, and as she did Garret grabbed two of the weights with his gloved hands and flung the net back over itself, leaving a narrow gap at the bottom.
Artemis was injured and in great discomfort, but she moved very fast, scrambling out from under the net, grabbing him by the shoulders and half dragging him toward the woods. He dropped the shock stick. Sunlight struck her, and she swallowed a cry. The weakness of her grip told Garret that she wouldn’t be able to keep up the pretense for long, so he made a show of helplessness, struggling as if she had complete control of him.
A bullet whizzed past his ear when they were still a few yards from the woods’ edge. Garret shouted and raised one hand in a plea as the woman continued to tug at him, her fingers beginning to slip from his coat.
“A little farther,” Garret said. “Once we’re inside the woods, run.”
Artemis stumbled, and Garret twisted to push her toward the trees. The militiamen were jogging after them now, deadly silent and ready to shoot. Garret and the Freeblood reached the shade, and she staggered, her breath sawing in her throat.
“Go!” Garret said.
“They’ll kill you,” she said hoarsely, refusing to move.
“For being an idiot and allowing you to escape? I don’t think so.”
She didn’t have time to answer, because the men were almost on top of them. Artemis grabbed him around the neck and dragged him deeper into the shadows. He could have escaped easily, but he played along, gasping for air and digging his heels into the dirt.
“Come no closer!” she shouted. “I will kill him!”
The militiamen slowed to a walk. Delacroix signaled a halt. He met Garret’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I can’t let her escape.” He lifted his rifle and aimed at the center of the woman’s forehead.
“She knows where my son is!” Garret rasped. “Let her go, please!”
Delacroix hesitated. “Your son is no more important than the people this bloodsucker will kill.”
“I will release him if you give me five more minutes before you follow me,” Artemis said.
Bending his head toward the man next to him, Delacroix spoke in a low voice, listened to his comrades and nodded.
“Five minutes,” he said, checking his watch.
Without warning, Artemis released Garret, pushing him toward the men, and sprang into a run. Almost immediately the militiamen started after her.
“Wait,” Garret said. “I thought you said—”
Delacroix signaled a halt. “You think we’d keep a promise to one of them?” he asked. “Don’t you want the info you say she has?”
“Yes, of course,” Garret said, rubbing his throat as he got to his feet. “But if you go into those woods after her, she’ll have the advantage.”
Two of the men aimed their rifles at him. “Who are you?” Delacroix asked again.
“A former serf from the Citadel of Erebus,” Garret said. “Do you know what that’s like? Any of you?”
The men exchanged glances. One lowered his gaze. Another spat.
“This is my fault,” Garret said. “Give me one of your weapons and I’ll get her myself.”
“She’ll have even more of an advantage over one hunter,” Delacroix said. “Why aren’t you carrying a gun?”
The VS seemed to burn a hole through Garret’s pack and into his coat. “I had one,” he began, “but—”
“Take off your pack,” Delacroix said.
“Why?”
“You’re hiding something, and I want to know what it is.”
Garret lunged at Delacroix, grabbed the man’s rifle in both hands, yanked it away and slammed the butt into the leader’s face. Without slowing, he struck the next man in the neck and then reversed the rifle.
Two of the others began to shoot, but Garret had already moved out of their path. He shot one of the men in the hand, forcing him to drop his rifle. The youngest one yelled and charged at Garret wildly. His heedless rage gave Garret the chance to kick the weapon out of the boy’s grip before he could pull the trigger.
But another rifleman and the one he’d struck in the neck were almost on top of him. Someone flashed by him, a small figure who took the two men down so quickly that Garret couldn’t see how she’d done it. He didn’t take time to think it over. Shrugging out of his pack, he uncoiled the rope hanging from the metal frame and cut it into five lengths. By the time he turned back, all the militiamen were on the ground—alive, but weaponless and either unconscious or disabled.
He met Artemis’s gaze briefly and knelt beside Delacroix, who was moaning as he began to wake up. Garret rolled him over and tied his hands securely. The Opir woman helped him with the other men, her face and body shielded by an oversize hooded daycoat that was thick enough to protect her from the worst of the sun. She wore equally heavy gloves. Garret could only assume that she had kept the day clothes close by in case she was caught out of the woods after dawn.
He checked on each of the men when he was finished. Two of them were already struggling and cursing, while Delacroix and his second-in-command were bleary-eyed and disoriented. The youngest glared at Garret with undisguised hatred.
“Listen to me,” Garret said, crouching in front of him. “I’m going to set you free. You go back to your colony and tell them to come fetch their people.”
The boy pulled hard against the ropes around his wrists. “You gonna leave them out here for the rogues to eat?” he demanded.
Garret glanced at Artemis. “Are there any other Opiri in the area?” he asked.
“No.”
“You believe her?” the boy said, his face twisted in amazement.
“No Opiri are going to attack you in sunlight. Your people should be able to return with plenty of time to spare before dark.”
“Traitor!” the boy spat, tears running down his cheeks. “We’ll hunt you down.”
Garret moved behind the boy and cut through the ropes. “Take your pack,” he said, “and go.”
For a moment he thought the boy would stay and try to fight, but even he had enough sense to realize he didn’t have a chance. He grabbed the pack and ran off, his pace much too fast to maintain for more than a few minutes.
“You will pay for this,” Delacroix said, his words a little slurred. “We kill sucker-lovers around here.”
Garret ignored him. He gathered up the weapons and backed away until he was in the woods again. Artemis went with him. He noticed that she was carrying a bow in one hand and a quiver full of arrows in the other.
“Thank you,” Garret said roughly, trying to adjust the rifles’ straps so that he could carry them all at once to a place where the militiamen wouldn’t find them. “You can go.”
“You saved my life at the risk of your own,” Artemis said, her eyes reflecting crimson under the hood of her coat.
“I told you—”
“That you would not leave someone to be tortured,” she said. “But I still do not understand why you would turn against your own kind to help one of mine.”
Anger and grief clogged Garret’s throat and tore at his heart. “I knew an Opir who did the same for us.”
Her brows drew down and her