Demonbane (Book 4) by Ben Cassidy Read Free Book Online Page A

Kara was the only real suspect.
    She only had a few moments. And she had to make the most of them.
    The guard with the musket turned his head back. He started to say something.
    Kara took two steps forward and kneed him hard between the legs.
     
    The first guard instinctively caught the smoking grenade, and almost dropped his sword in the process. It took him a moment to realize what he was holding. He froze, his eyes wide as saucers.
    Maklavir hated violence in all its forms. It was so…uncivilized. In certain situations, however, he had come to the realization that even violence had its uses.
    The situation he was currently in, for instance, was certainly one of them.
    Maklavir grabbed a shield of arms that was set onto the hallway wall and ripped it out of its fastenings.
    The second guard backed up several steps, a natural reaction from a man who saw a live grenade within twelve feet of him.
    The first guard turned and swung back his arm to throw the sputtering grenade as far down the corridor as he could.
    Maklavir brought the shield down with both hands on the back of the man’s head.
    There was a dull clang , and the man collapsed to the floor like a sack of grain.
    Maklavir vaguely hoped the poor fellow wasn’t dead, though more, if he was honest, out of the sheer principle of the thing.
    The second guard froze, torn with indecision. His eyes were still on the grenade.
    Maklavir turned, then kicked the explosive device down the hallway towards the startled man.
    The grenade rolled and bounced down the hall. It stopped right at the second guard’s feet.
    The man threw himself against a door. He dropped his sword and covered his face with both hands.
    Maklavir swooped down and snatched the unconscious guard’s sword off the ground.
    The matchcord on the grenade reached its end. It sputtered, then fizzled out.
    The second guard lowered his arms. He stared in stupid awe at the dud grenade.
    Maklavir stepped up to him with a shrug. “No gunpowder in that one,” he explained apologetically.
    He slammed the hilt of the sword into the guard’s face.
     
    Kendril needed a weapon, and he needed one fast. He reached for the closest thing to him, the nearest thing to a lethal object he could find.
    Immediately to his left was a stand of billiard sticks.
    He snatched one off the rack and snapped it in two on his knee.
    Nadine was already on top of him. Her knives came at him in rapid stabs like serpent strikes.
    Kendril blocked the blows, one after the other, fighting with a broken piece of the billiard stick in each hand.
    The assassin gritted her teeth in rage. She whirled around the billiards table and tried to press Kendril against the wall.
    Kendril grinned from the sheer heat of the combat, relishing in the sudden outburst of violence. He swung the pieces of wood as if they had been the finest steel blades in the world.
    He couldn’t kill the assassin with the billiard stick pieces, or even seriously injure her. The best he could hope to do was to bruise her, maybe knock her unconscious if he could get a head hit in.
    Not that he stood much chance of that with the masterful job she was doing.
    She leapt, parried, struck and slashed with all the skill of a dozen swordsmen.
    Joseph was still on the floor, rolling around but not yet back on his feet.
    Kendril felt a flash of irritation through the exhilaration of the combat. Why didn’t the scout get back up? A cut on the arm was nothing serious.
    The assassin leapt under Kendril’s attack, then kicked him hard in the stomach.
    Kendril hit the billiards table and rolled back across its surface. He tumbled onto the floor on the other side. He clambered to his feet, out of breath.
    It was then that he noticed that Joseph was still on the floor.
    The scout was retching, rolling in agony and holding his bleeding arm.
    Something was wrong. A simple slash on the arm shouldn’t—
    And then the terrible truth hit Kendril.
    Nadine’s knives.
    They were