Lucky - by Erin Latimer

Fire in the Kitchen

            “Cassie,” his voice was a lazy drawl, and his dark eyes sparkled. He was enjoying this, like a cat tormenting a mouse. “I’m so disappointed in you. I thought you’d decided to stay with me. To learn about your heritage. The thief can’t do anything for you.” He chuckled. “Especially not now, I think he’s likely brain damaged.”

            A guttural snarl tore from my throat, and I launched myself forward, wanting to land a single blow on him. Just one.

            Rook’s hand came up, a blur of movement, and he smacked me full across the face, sending me reeling backwards before I’d even got close to him. It was uncanny how fast he was, how he was standing there one second and gone the next. When I looked up, blinking dazedly, tasting copper on my tongue, he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. That smirk was still teasing at the corner of his lips.

            “Cassie, Cassie. I know you know better. You can tell you’re not my match. You know deep down, that I could dispatch you with a flick of a finger. In fact, I wouldn't even have to touch you.”

            I knew he was right, but the way he was looking at me was making my skin prickle with heat, and not the kind that Kiran inspired in me, the kind that left me burning with anger. The kind that drove me to do incredibly stupid things.

            This time I tried to fake him out, half turning towards the freezer door, then darting back, lashing out with a kick, my boot heel to his knee cap.

            Something wrapped around my throat mid-kick, and I felt myself hoisted up into the air. Lights burst in front of my eyes, coloring my vision brilliantly white, with shades of darkness just beginning to creep around the edges.

            Rook slammed me backwards, pressing me into the wall so hard I felt what little oxygen I had left in my lungs rush out, leaving me wheezing and gasping, desperate for air. His hands were crushing my throat, and the dark mist around the edges of my vision was creeping in further.

            It slammed home like a bolt of lightening then, that he wasn’t toying with me anymore. The game was over. He was really going to kill me now.

            I let my body go limp, letting my hands fall into the folds of my dress. Still choking, I slipped one hand into the secret pocket, fingers closing around the cool glass surface of the jar. The jar with Kiran’s soul in it.

            I had no idea what I was doing, but anything was better than dying.

            I brought the jar out of my pocket and let it slip out of my fingers.

            There was the sharp crash of glass breaking, and suddenly the grip around my neck was gone, and I slumped down onto the tiles. Something sharp dug past my dress, cutting in my thigh, and I pushed myself backwards, coughing and gagging, desperately sucking in air.

            When I opened my eyes, Rook was in mid-lunge, throwing himself at the milky white form that was floating just above the floor.

            Rook hit the ground, fingers grasping, but the soul slipped out of his reach, darting for the freezer door and sliding under it, winking out like a candle flame.

            I almost laughed in relief. That had been a stab in the dark. I’d had no idea that the soul would go back to Kiran. It could have floated around the kitchen aimlessly for all I knew, like a tiny little ghost.

            My relief shriveled the second I looked up and saw Rook staring down at me. His face was turning red and his mouth was curled downwards in an ugly snarl, something I never thought I’d see on his smooth features.

            It made ice drop down my spine to see him looking at me like that. There was no way he was going to let me go now. Now that I’d freed the master thief.

            There was a thud on the other side of the freezer door, making us both jump. A low, angry sounding voice came from the inside. It was too muffled to make out words, but my heart jumped at the sound of it. Kiran was awake.

            Rook strode forward and seized my arms, yanking me roughly to my feet, dark eyes boring into mine.

            His voice was flat, which was somehow more terrifying than if he’d been screaming at me. “I can think of a better punishment for you than death.”

            “I have no wish to know what that is.” I tried to pry my arm out of his grip, but his fingers only tightened on my arms, biting into my skin and making my eyes fill with tears.

            There was another thump from the freezer, louder this time, and it distracted Rook enough that he turned away from me. I managed to rip one arm free, tucking my right hand into my sleeve, fingers curling around the little dagger I’d stashed up there.

            Rook jerked me to his chest, tucking me tight against his side as he began to make his way to the door. “Perhaps the thief was right to bind you in iron. It would certainly teach you to behave yourself and not run rampant all over your host’s house, won’t it? That’s just plain rude.”

            “You’re a hypocrite then,” I panted, trying to get my other arm up to unsheathe the dagger. Rook didn’t answer, nor did he seem to notice my struggles.

            There was another almighty blow to the freezer door, this time it shook the kitchen slightly, and the pots and pans hanging from the rack over the stove rattled noisily. Rook paused, glancing up, and in that second I felt the dagger pull free of the glass sheath