The Fallen 03 - Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page A

watch my tongue around Pedersen. He had a vicious temper despite the creepy, obsessive watchfulness that suggested something far more disturbing than a wish to hurt me.
    “You think you can escape your destiny?” He was clenching my wrist so tightly the bones groundtogether, the effect agonizing. For almost twenty years this man had tormented and tortured me, and I had had enough.
    “I can escape you,” I said unwisely.
    “No.” His denial was hoarse, guttural. “You aren’t going with him.”
    “You’re right. But I’m not staying here either. Let me go, Pedersen. Or I’ll make you.”
    He hit me. I should have been expecting it; he’d done it often enough. He’d broken my cheekbone once, my jaw another time. I always healed with unnatural swiftness, and I’d never given it a second thought.
    This blow made me see stars, but he’d smashed no bones. I blinked, trying to regain my equilibrium. I didn’t have to let him do this to me, I reminded myself, shaking my head. Never again.
    I looked into those pale eyes and knew that this time he was going to kill me. For whatever reason, he didn’t like my reprieve, and despite the brooding looks and his tendency to flatten me whenever he could, he clearly wasn’t envisioning a happy-ever-after with me. I glanced over the cliff. The rocks below were jagged, and with luck I would hit my head, an instant blackout so I wouldn’t have to suffer.
    I figured I had nothing to lose. “Why do you want to kill me, Pedersen? You were my mentor, my teacher. Why would you want to destroy all that?”
    The bastard hit me again, and I stumbled, thenrighted myself. He was even using his left hand. The right hand would have smashed my face in. “No one will have you,” he said, and dragged me away from the sheltering wall.
    “Not even you?”
    It worked. He froze, the words so shocking that he couldn’t move. But I could.
    I kicked up, hard, hitting the soft place between his legs, and he screamed, releasing me, sinking to his knees on the narrow ledge. He was more resilient than I’d thought. I had barely taken two steps toward the rocks when his hand caught my ankle and I went down. He tried to pin me, but I’d been holding a few tricks in reserve. I moved, lightning-fast, bucking against his heavy weight, and I threw him off with all my strength.
    He screamed all the way down to the jagged rocks below, and I heard the thud as he landed.
    I lay perfectly still. It was too dark to see that far, and Pedersen was no longer making any noise. He was dead, and the thought was odd, unsettling. I had just killed a man. Someone who deserved it a hundred times over—but still, it was unnerving.
    My face was numb from his blows. I’d sport some magnificent bruises for a few short hours, and then they’d be gone, thanks to my restorative powers. Not that I cared what I looked like. I scrambled up, stepped back from the edge of the cliff, and turned.
    The man stood there, watching me. Michael.
    “How long have you been there?” I demanded.
    “For a while. You did a good job with that cretin. Did he train you?” His rich, golden voice sounded no more than faintly curious.
    He’d been watching as I fought for my life? I managed to keep my voice cool. “Yes. He didn’t realize I’d come up with a few tricks of my own.”
    “He did a decent job with you. We will continue when we reach Sheol.”
    I stared at him. “Why didn’t you help me?”
    “There was no need. You were more than capable of dealing with him.”
    I looked at him in disbelief. “What if he’d thrown me over the cliff before you could stop him?”
    “Then I would have caught you.”
    Madman, I thought again, starting to edge away. I wasn’t sure whether I appreciated the faint note of approval or resented it. “Look, we don’t even know each other. You don’t really want me to . . . to go away with you, do you?”
    “No, I don’t. It is, however, my duty.” His voice was flat, uncompromising.