Red Crown? Unlikely. What would the rebels want with stolen children? And if Red Crown were involved in the abductions, Eliana would have heard whispers from the underground by now.
They could be bounty hunters like herself, but why would the Undying Empire pay for what it could simply take? And working in a group? Very unlikely.
One of the figures in the boat held out its arms for the girl. Lumps crowded the boat’s floor—other women, other girls, bound and unconscious.
Eliana’s anger ignited.
She pulled long, thin Whistler from her left boot.
“Going somewhere, gentlemen?” she called and ran at them.
The figure on the dock turned just as Eliana reached him. She whirled, caught him with her boot under his chin. He fell, choking.
One of the figures from the boat jumped onto the dock. She swiped him across the throat with Arabeth, pushed him into the water after his comrade.
She spun around, triumphant, beckoned at the abductor still waiting in the boat.
“Come on, love,” she crooned. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
Once, she had flinched at killing. Her first had been six years ago, at the age of twelve. Rozen Ferracora, Eliana’s mother, had brought her along on a job—the last Rozen had taken before her injury—and someone had ratted them out. The rebels had known they were coming. It had been an ambush.
Rozen had felled two of them, and Eliana had hidden in the shadows. That had always been her mother’s instruction: I’ll keep you from killing as long as I can, sweet girl. For now, watch. Learn. Practice. What my father taught me, I will teach you.
Then one of the rebels had pinned Rozen to the ground, and Eliana had known nothing but rage.
She flew at the rebel woman, thrust her little blade deep into the woman’s back. Then she stood, staring, as the woman gasped away her life in a pool of blood.
Rozen had taken Eliana’s hand, hurried her away. Back home in their kitchen, her brother, Remy—then only five—had stared wide-eyed as Eliana’s shock gave way to panic. Hands red with blood, she had sobbed herself hoarse in her mother’s arms.
Luckily, the killing had grown much easier.
Two masked figures darted forward out of the shadows, small bundles in their arms. More girls? They tossed the bundles to their last remaining comrade in the boat, then spun to meet her. She ducked one blow, then another, then took a hard one to the stomach and a sharp hook to the jaw.
She stumbled, shook it off. The pain vanished as quickly as it had come. She whirled and stabbed another of the brutes. He toppled into the filthy water.
Then a wave of nausea slammed into her, mean as a boot to the gut. She dropped to her knees, gasping for air. A weight settled on her shoulders, fogged her vision, pressed her down hard against the river-slicked dock.
Five seconds. Ten. Then the pressure vanished. The air no longer felt misaligned around her body; her skin no longer crawled. She raised her head, forced open her eyes. The boat was gliding away.
Wild with anger, head still spinning, Eliana staggered to her feet. A strong arm came around her middle, pulling her backward just as she prepared to dive.
“Get off me,” she said tightly, “or I’ll get nasty.” She elbowed Harkan in his ribs.
He swore, but didn’t let go. “El, have you lost your mind? This isn’t the job.”
“They took her.” She stomped on his instep, twisted out of his grip, ran back to the dock’s edge.
He followed and caught her arm, spun her around to face him. “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t the job.”
Her grin emerged hard as glass. “When has restraining me ever worked out in your favor? Oh, wait.” She sidled closer, softened her smile. “I can think of a time or two—”
“Stop it, El. What have you always told me?” His dark eyes found hers, locked on. “If it isn’t the job, it isn’t our problem.”
Her smile faded. She yanked her arm away from him. “They keep taking us. Why? And who are they? Why only the girls? And what was that…that feeling? I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
He looked dubious. “Maybe you need to sleep.”
She hesitated, despair creeping slowly in. “You felt nothing at all?”
“Sorry, no.”
She glared at him, ignoring the unsettled feeling in her gut. “Well, even so, that girl was no rebel. She was a child. Why would they bother taking her?”
“Whatever the reason, it’s not our problem,” Harkan repeated. He took a long, slow breath, perhaps convincing himself. “Not tonight. We have work to do.”