“No,” I told him.

The giant stumbled away on shaking legs. I let him take two steps and sliced the back of his knees. Good machete. Sharp.

The giant toppled like a felled tree.

I walked in front of him. He was trying to crawl forward. I grabbed his hair and spun him around so he could see Dougie. The effort sent a blinding flash of pain through me, but I didn’t care.

I gripped the giant’s hair and forced his head up. “Tell me who hired you and the pain will end.”

He growled. There was nothing human in the sound. His face was a mask of rage, but there was no power in it. His mouth drooped, his eye stared, unfocused.

“Tell me who hired you.”

“Fuck you.”

I wouldn’t get anything from him.

Dougie was looking at us with one eye.

“Look at the boy,” I told the giant.

His hands were trembling. I yanked his head up, forcing him to look. Their stares connected.

I brought the machete down on the giant’s neck. This time the blade cut clean through the flesh and bone. The giant’s head rolled clear. His eye was still blinking. His mouth moved trying to shape words, but without lungs, nothing came out.

I whistled for Tulip and scooped the boy off the ground. He was so light and limp.

“I didn’t tell them,” he whispered. “I didn’t tell about you and Marten.”

“I know.”

“It hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve got you.”

“Don’t let them hurt me anymore,” he whispered.

“They’re all dead. I’ve got you.”

Tulip ran over. I draped him over her saddle on his stomach. It was the least jostling position. He moaned softly.

“Stay with me, Douglas.”

He shivered.

“Stay with me.”

“Okay…”

I grabbed the giant’s head, shoved it into the saddlebag, ran to get my spear, and patted Tulip’s cheek. “Smooth.”

Tulip started off. Most people were aware of four horse gaits, walk, trot, canter, and gallop. Those more familiar with horses knew about pace and amble, a four-beat intermediate gait between a walk and a canter. Tulip had her own amble, fast and smooth as silk. I had ridden dozens of horses, and none of them could match her.

“Stay with me, Douglas.”

I ran next to her, trying to block out the pain and failing. The jolts of pain became a tortured cadence to my run. I sank into it, into a weird place where the hurt was background to the thing I had to do. Getting back to St. Luke’s was the only thing that mattered, and when the church finally loomed in front of me, I was almost surprised.

I pulled Dougie off the saddle and carried him up the steps to the doors. People came running out. Someone waved me to the right. “This way.”

I followed them thought the church, through the garden, to the hospital, where people in scrubs took the boy out of my arms and carried him off.

I waited on the bench by the reception area. Minutes ticked by.

Bishop Chao came rushing through the doors past me and down the hall. A woman in scrubs came out to talk to her. A moment later a door opened and a tall black man in scrubs walked out into the hallway. He and the bishop approached me.

“He’s alive,” the doctor said. “A broken leg, two broken arms, internal injuries. We will know more once we run the scans.”

“Will he survive?”

“There are no guarantees. If we get a magic wave in the next few hours, his chances will improve.”

“I will pay all the charges, whatever he needs.”

“No need,” the bishop said.

The doctor turned and hurried away.

Bishop Chao sat next to me. “What happened?”

“A crew out of the Honeycomb.” Only Honeycombers had iron hounds. “They were after me specifically. Yesterday I talked to some street kids that witnessed Pastor Haywood leaving his church in a car to identify the artifact. The boy was one of them. Kind of their leader. They beat him, chained him, and dragged him around the city, trying to find me.”

They must’ve used the hound to track me to the church and then either made a good guess as to which road I’d take out of it or saw me leave and got ahead of me.

Bishop Chao closed her eyes for a long moment. “We will do everything we can.”

“Thank you. And if anyone comes asking, call the Order. Please.”

“You look like you might need to be checked out.”

I rose. “Thank you again, but I have somewhere to be.”

I started toward the doors. He didn’t tell them about Marten, but that didn’t mean they were the only people looking for her. I had to find her.

“Ms. Ryder,” she called after me. “Do be careful.”

7

I walked into the Order’s chapter carrying my saddlebag.

The female knight who had originally escorted me walked out of the nearest office. A slow smile stretched her lips.

“What truck ran you over?”

“Did a child come here looking for me?”

The female knight nodded. “Follow me.”

I followed her into her office. Marten sat in a chair, munching away on chocolate chip cookies and drinking from a large mug. She saw me and grinned, presenting me with chocolate-stained teeth.