The Old City

0.62: Retreat

Marcus wouldn't back down. He'd fought bigger bullies than Praetus. He was just one of many. It was no different from the other times ... although Praetus was a head taller than the last guy, and twenty kilos heavier than Marcus himself.

No. That didn't matter. Marcus wouldn't back down.

He stepped into the bigger boy and looked up, square into his eyes. He knew there was no fear in his eyes. He erased the doubt from his mind and braced for the first blow.

It came, lighter than he'd expected, right into his chest. Marcus absorbed the hit, shook his shoulder to loosen it up, and returned to stand in front of him.

Then he wound back. He pulled his fist into a ball and exploded forward, hitting Praetus in the center of his chest. The boy coughed and stumbled, shocked by the force behind Marcus's blow. He tried to stand up again, but couldn't make it all the way. He coughed again, this time spewing blood, and fell to a knee.

He contorted up to look at Marcus and saw the same cold, confident eyes staring back. Then Praetus's eyes filled with fear, then with nothingness. Praetus fell, unconscious, at Marcus's feet.

Another bully, bigger and more frightening than the last, down.

The Rooftop with Seneca, Mika, and Firkaan

Mika knew she couldn't take Firkaan in a fight. It was all she could do to hold him at bay with her reel. But she didn't care. She wouldn't let him hurt Seneca anymore.

Her aura flared wildly, rising furious. It engulfed the entire rooftop like a blue-green shade.

"Who are you now?" Firkaan barked.

"I'm just a friend."

There was a lot of blood. She flashed back to her boat, and the fish that she gutted and cleansed. She'd created a thousand wounds like this, but she'd never had to stop this much bleeding.

Banjo! We need Ryster right now. Have him meet me at the Treehouse as soon as he can.

His voice came quickly with tones of panic. Will you make it that far?

I have to. My line will only hold the werewolf for a few more minutes. The moment he is free, he will come after us again. Our only hope is to retreat as fast as possible.

She tore off her sleeve while waiting for a response, then pressed it against Seneca's wounds to stem the bleeding. It had little effect.

I found Ryster, Banjo said.

Werewolf wounds are nasty business. Ryster's voice rang in her head too. Was he bitten or slashed?

Slashed, Mika replied.

Then we have some hope. Werewolves secrete a toxin from their fangs and claws that keeps wounds from healin'. It's worse with their fangs though. Get him away from Firkaan and I'll meet you nearby to help carry him back to the Treehouse.

Will he live? Mika asked, hoping to hide the desperation in her thoughts.

I will make sure of it.

Mika did as Ryster ordered, and lifted Seneca over her shoulder. He was lighter than she expected. Had he lost so much weight from blood loss?

She shot Firkaan one final look, who was still flailing about on her reel. She had no idea how long she could keep her spell running, but it would weaken with every step. If she didn't make it to the bustle of people, she'd never escape him.