Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [86]
“My client wants you dead, Sweetwater.” The voice came from the darkness beyond the senses-dazzling light. “But there is no great rush. I haven’t had a job like this in a while. I’m going to take my time.”
“Who hired you?” Owen managed.
“He called himself Newton, but I doubt that’s his real name. Seemed to know a lot about you, though. He said you’re a talent. Told me where I could find you. He knew all about your whore in Garnet Lane, you see.”
“He gave you that device you used to blind me?”
“He called it the Quicksilver Mirror. Told me it was valuable and that he’d want it back as soon as I finished with you. But between you and me, I plan to keep it. Right handy, it is.”
“Did he tell you why he wants me dead?”
“Doesn’t seem to like you very much. I got the impression that you’re standing in the way of something he wants.”
Owen felt himself growing colder. His vision and hearing started to dim. The energy of the mirror was affecting his normal senses now.
“He gave you the mirror because he knew you couldn’t take me with just your talent alone,” he said.
“That’s a bloody damn lie.” Outraged by the insult, the hunter moved closer. “I could kill you before you take another breath. I don’t need this mirror to finish you off.”
Owen gathered what was left of his strength. It took almost everything he had, but he managed to move his hand back to his ankle. His fingers touched the sheath strapped to his leg.
“You’re burning a lot of energy keeping that mirror hot,” he rasped. “You’re exhausting your talent.”
“Unlike you, I’ve got plenty to spare,” the hunter snarled.
The paranormal brilliance was definitely fainter now. The hunter did not realize how much energy he was using to wield the mirror. He was too excited, too focused on the thrill of the kill. Emotions were always the enemy when it came to this sort of thing, Owen thought.
“You’re definitely weakening,” Owen said. “You won’t be able to finish this.”
“Let’s find out,” the hunter growled.
The blinding paranormal radiance flashed once more, sending another searing wave of energy across Owen’s senses. In the next instant the terrible light winked out like a gas lamp that had been turned down.
“Damn thing is broken,” the hunter said. “But I told you, I don’t need it.”
“Not broken. You don’t have enough strength left to focus it.”
“Bastard. I’ll show you who is weak.”
The hunter hurled the mirror aside. It clanged on the paving stones. Owen was vaguely aware that he did not hear the sound of glass breaking, but there was no time to analyze the implications.
The hunter rushed toward him, moonlight glinting on the knife in his hand. He was not nearly as fast as he had been at the start of the confrontation. He had used too much energy controlling the paranormal weapon. But he was still quick and savage, still enraged.
Freed of the pressure of the mirror, Owen could breathe freely again. But when he tried to heighten his talent he got no response.
He yanked the knife out of the ankle sheath. The hunter reached for him, intending to lock him in a choke hold and secure him for the killing slash across the throat.
Owen twisted onto his side, managing just barely to avoid the hunter’s hand. He brought the knife up in the same instant, felt it sink deep into flesh.
The hunter grunted, recovering his balance with startling speed, and leaped back. The quick action caused him to pull free of the knife. Blood gushed forth from his chest.
For a split second, the hunter did not seem to comprehend what had happened. He looked down at the blood spraying out of his body, and then he raised his head to stare at Owen.
“No,” he said. “No, it’s not possible. You’re not a hunter.”
“You should not have called her a whore,” Owen said softly. “In my family we do not allow anyone to insult our women.”
The hunter stared, horrified and bewildered,