I turned, careful to keep my back to the wall of one of the larger mausoleums. If Danaus lost his battle or if one of his attackers abandoned him and attacked me, I didn’t want him to suddenly appear at my back. The naturi thrust his blade at me. I blocked it. As he drew it away, he flicked the tip so the edge grazed the bottom of my arm. A long red line appeared, sending a sharp, burning pain up my arm. It was a sensation I had forgotten about. All the naturi weapons were charmed, a special poison that screamed through the body.

I kicked at him, but he sidestepped my blow. What he didn’t expect was my fist landing on his nose the next second, snapping his head backward. Beneath my knuckles I felt bone break and flesh give. He staggered a couple steps backward, blood pouring down his face. He cursed, which always sounded strange to me. Their language was so beautiful and lyrical that curses came out sounding more like compliments, which is how I took it.

Across the graveyard a groan broke above the sounds of fighting. I couldn’t chance a look over, but it wasn’t Danaus’s voice. The hunter rid himself of one of his opponents. I attacked my bloody opponent before my other foe returned. Lucky for me, pain from his broken nose clouded the naturi’s judgment, and it was only two seconds later before my sword was buried in his chest. Grinning, I drew the blade upward, ripping through his vital organs and snapping bone until it broke through his collarbone and shredded the muscles and tendons in his shoulder. His eyes glazed over and his short sword clattered to the ground. Before he could collapse, I slashed my sword through the air, freeing his head from his neck.

I looked up to find my other playmate coming at me, rage glittering in his green eyes. His anger gave him more strength and speed than his companion, but I still had an edge. Nerian haunted my thoughts enough that I knew I had to kill this naturi or I would be in their hands once again—a fate I would not repeat. The brown-haired creature slashed and blocked with ease, forcing me to circle away from the wall, exposing my back. I tried to circle around so I didn’t have to worry about anyone plunging a blade in my back, but he was good.

We exchanged glancing blows so that after a couple of minutes we were both bleeding small streams from half a dozen little cuts. My body burned and my arms trembled from the pain. The naturi’s leather jerkin was soaked with blood and sweat, but his eyes were narrowed and keenly focused on me. Clearly, his goal was to kill me.

Gritting my teeth, I blocked another series of blows aimed at my heart and slashed at him, backing him up a couple feet. With a little space between us, I lowered my eyelids until my eyes were reduced to narrow violet slits. He took a step toward me with his sword raised but lurched to a sudden stop, eyes widening. His irises seemed to be swallowed up by the whites of his eyes and his mouth opened as a low, strangled cry echoed through the strangely quiet graveyard. I lowered my sword, focusing all my energy on his body. It took only another couple seconds for the flames to peek through his flesh, blackening it. The sound of sizzling skin and tissue hissed in the air, while the smell of burning hair and leather overwhelmed any lingering scents of the Nile and the city. I stepped back as his clothes ignited and he crumbled to the floor. He never screamed and it was a bit disappointing, because it had been such a painful way to go. But what do you expect when you start a fire in someone’s lungs?

When the naturi was reduced to a clump of blackened pieces, I withdrew the power, extinguishing the fire. Exhausted, I crumpled to my knees in front of the corpse. The sounds of fighting had died off and I could vaguely feel Danaus nearby. I needed to rest for a moment before turning back to my dilemma with him. Summoning a little power, I pushed out and touched the minds of any humans who had wandered close at the sounds of fighting or the sight of the brief fire. It took a little effort, but I erased the image, convincing them to turn around and return to their homes. Our secret was still safe.

“There’s the little princess,” announced a bold, mocking voice into the growing silence.

Spinning around, I landed on my butt in my haste. The last naturi had forced me to turn, leaving my back to the vast expanse of the cemetery. The last three naturi from across the street were cautiously drawing closer.

Seated on the ground with my back pressed to the sand-worn wall of one of the crumbling, red brick tombs, my eyes were locked on the center naturi, who was staring at me. I had never seen a naturi like him. Well over five feet, he had hair so dark that it looked black, where all the naturi I had ever seen before were either blond or light brown. His right eye was covered with a black leather patch, while his right cheek and jaw were crisscrossed with rough, jagged scars. The naturi healed from nearly everything, their warm beauty seemingly protected for all time.

The one-eyed naturi took a step closer, edging around the dead bodies of his companions with his sword tightly clenched in his right hand. “Time to go.”

“Not a chance.” Something in his voice teased at my memories, as if I should remember him, but I could not recall ever seeing a naturi like him.

“But I have such plans for you.” He took another step closer. Digging in my heels, I prepared to leap to my feet. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other two naturi turn toward Danaus. They would keep the hunter occupied while this naturi took care of me.

Yet, again his voice and words haunted me, bringing back images of Nerian and our final conversation. “Are you Rowe?”

His grin widened and he threw open his arms in a shallow bow. “At your service.” His dark red button-up shirt was open at the collar, and when he bent forward, I got a clear look at the scars that streaked across his muscular chest. As he straightened, he paused and his grin faded. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Nope.”

“We’ll fix that.” Rowe brought his sword down, but I blocked it with my own. Seated on the ground, I was at a definite disadvantage. I was too tired and hurt to try to burn him. I needed to get to my feet.

Rowe was about to bring his sword down again when a pair of high-pitched screams rent the air. A chill went up my spine and I flinched against the sound as if it were slicing through my skin. We both looked up to find that the other two naturi had dropped their short swords and were clawing wildly at their arms and face, pulling at their skin while screaming. I didn’t have a clue what was happening to them. They collapsed to the ground then, their lithe bodies jerking and arching in pain. Suddenly, the tanned skin split and blood poured out, hissing and bubbling. Their blood was boiling. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it to be possible.

“I’ll catch you soon,” Rowe said, pointing his sword at me. The sole surviving naturi then darted across the graveyard and down into the shadowy street.

My stomach twisted as it tried to turn itself inside out, my eyes falling back on the dying naturi. It was only then that I felt the enormous press of power filling the graveyard, pushing against my skin like a hand on my chest. My gaze jerked around the area and I found Danaus focused on the two naturi. He was on his knees, one hand outstretched toward them. He was doing it. This creature I had threatened and taunted was boiling the blood of his enemies from inside.

There was a brief moment of awe as I sat there watching their blood cool in the night air. My trick was good, but his was better. And what was to keep him from doing the same to me and the rest of my kind?