Princess Avenger - Brightcastle Saga Book 1 by Bernadette Rowley Page B

long as she remembered she acted for good,
she could not fail. Tonight’s task was to discover if the
mercenaries still frequented the Lion. Now she could return to the
castle to plan her attack.
    As Alecia
stood and made ready to leave, a commotion at the front door drew
her attention. She peered around the corner of the building and saw
the Devil push another patron onto the cobbles fronting the tavern.
The big mercenary pulled the other man to his feet and turned him
about. A sharp crack echoed up the street as the victim’s neck
snapped and Alecia’s heart leapt so hard she gasped and grabbed her
chest. Allowing the body to slide to the cobbles, the Devil
turned.
    Even in
the dim light of the moon, the murderous glare of the big man
heralded his intent. He started towards her, slowly, deliberately
and for crucial moments, Alecia froze. He was too big, too fierce!
She would end her life in this dirty alley and this man would add
another murder to his crimes. No! She
could not let that happen. Taking a deep breath, Alecia felt for
the knives hidden about her person but her chilled fingers fumbled
the task. Finally, one came into her hand and she threw it. The
mercenary flung his arm up and the blade glanced off his leather
guard. Harder, faster! Her second knife wedged in his left shoulder.
    He
howled like a wounded animal then pulled the blade from his
shoulder, tossed it aside and started towards her once again.
Alecia yelped as her back bumped up against the side of the
tailor’s shop, and her attacker smiled. She fought the terror that
clawed at her and inched along, her back scraping over the rough
wooden boards. A little more space is all I need. He is slow and I have
the cunning of the fox. The trouble was, Alecia’s brave words did not ring true in
her heart. As she backed up, the Devil came on like a winter
avalanche.
    Another of her
knives sprang into her left hand and she threw, gratified to strike
the Devil’s chest this time. He clutched at the hilt and a gobbet
of blood spilled from his lips. Six strides separated her from the
mercenary. Calm descended upon her as he closed the distance. She
would not die a frightened mouse. Alecia found her last knife and
threw it, the blade flying true to its target. Moments later, his
huge hands closed on her shoulders and his face loomed over hers as
he bore her to the ground.
    The air
gushed from her lungs as his massive bulk settled. Alecia battled
for breath and braced herself to fight those meaty fists but the
man did not move. The handle of her last knife protruded from the
right side of his neck and blood pumped onto her chest. His
blood . The sticky, warm
liquid oozed onto the skin of her neck and bile rushed up her
throat. She pushed at the Devil’s shoulders and kicked her feet
under his legs. It was no use. She was pinned beneath this man
mountain, barely able to draw breath. The body felt heavier by the
second and the air she managed to suck in reeked of stale sweat,
sour wine and the metallic stench of fresh blood. How can this be
happening again? There
would be no Captain Anton to save her this time. The best she could
hope for was for one of the other patrons to find her when the
tavern closed. Without warning, the dead weight shifted as the body
rolled off her. She found herself staring up at Hetty.
    Alecia rolled
over onto her side, coughing. “What are you doing here?”
    “I could ask
you the same thing,” the witch said. “Get up and come with me
before that man’s friends come looking.”
    Alecia
scrambled to her feet and glanced at the tavern. The body of the
other man still lay in the street. As her eyes swept across the
Devil’s still form, she spied two golden spots, like eyes, at the
far end of the alley. A shiver of unease swept through her.
“Hetty,” she whispered. “Do you see that?”
    “I see nothing
but darkness,” Hetty said.
    The golden
points had vanished.
    Hetty tugged
at her sleeve and Alecia jogged along behind the old