You’ll have to kill me first.”
“Fine.” El Santo aimed and fired.
With a curse, Bastien flew back, searing white pain in his left shoulder. He stumbled to the ground on one knee and shook his head. He could see a haze of stars in front of his eyes, and the pain was spreading through his body like some kind of virulent disease. “ Fils de s alope ,” he muttered. The bastard had actually shot him.
If the ball had hit his right shoulder, he’d be doomed, but he still had his sword clutched in his right hand. Now he pivoted and came up with a roar. El Santo’s eyes widened in surprise, and he fumbled for his own sword. His henchman wasted no time, however. He raised his own pistol, and Bastien closed his eyes.
Something zipped past him and struck the man with enough force to cause him to drop his pistol and clutch his abdomen. Bastien had a moment to look behind him and saw his cabin girl, his beautiful cabin girl, standing there with arm outstretched. He’d known she’d be accurate with that dagger.
He grinned at her, but she gave him a look of horror. He turned in time to deflect El Santo’s first strike. Their blades clashed, and Bastien figured if Jourdain’s other men weren’t in the marketplace by now, they would be soon. The whole city must have heard the gunfire and now the clash of sword and cutlass.
But when El Santo thrust again, he had little time to worry about the future. Bastien had to concentrate on deflecting the blow. His shoulder felt as though it were on fire, the pain making it hard to concentrate or move as quickly as he would have liked. He could feel a stream of wetness soaking his shirt and coat, dripping from his hand onto the ground below. Still, he managed to push back El Santo and put him on the defensive. But the man charged him like some kind of berserker, and Bastien, worried he couldn’t stand up against such a strong assault, was forced to sidestep. El Santo pivoted and went for him again, and this time metal crashed with metal. Bastien clenched his teeth and forced his sword back against El Santo’s cutlass. Sweat streamed down his face and into his eyes, and he blinked. From the corner of his vision he saw a flurry of green. Was it just his blurred vision, or had his cabin girl gone to retrieve her dagger from El Santo’s man?
He saw her crouch beside the wounded man and doubled his efforts against El Santo. Jourdain’s lieutenant had his back to the man, and Bastien preferred to keep him occupied until she had the dagger in hand again. He met El Santo’s blade with his own, the clash of steel reverberating through his body painfully. But it wasn’t the pain he thought of. He’d just decided that if his cabin girl regained that blade, he was going to have to seriously consider marrying her.
***
Raeven had thought the man was dead, but when she reached for the dagger jutting from his abdomen, he grabbed her hand with his own bloody one. She let out a small screech, as much from surprise as the revulsion of his blood on her skin. Her vision wavered and went dark, then she bit hard on her lip and forced her hand free. The man reached for her again, but she punched him hard, and he rolled to the side. She leaned over him and freed the dagger with a sickening squelch. She wished she’d kept her gloves on because she was pretty certain there was some part of the man’s intestine on the hilt of the dagger, and it was slippery on her fingertips.
The sound of clashing swords drew her attention, and she watched as Cutlass deflected another of El Santo’s blows. Even in the moonlight, he looked decidedly gray. His blood dotted the ground, darkening the sand as the men’s feet trampled it. He fought valiantly, but she could see the tremor in his arm and hear how heavily he was breathing. He wouldn’t last much longer.
She didn’t know why she should care. She should let this El Santo take him, let this Jourdain finish him off. She was probably too much of a coward to
“Fine.” El Santo aimed and fired.
With a curse, Bastien flew back, searing white pain in his left shoulder. He stumbled to the ground on one knee and shook his head. He could see a haze of stars in front of his eyes, and the pain was spreading through his body like some kind of virulent disease. “ Fils de s alope ,” he muttered. The bastard had actually shot him.
If the ball had hit his right shoulder, he’d be doomed, but he still had his sword clutched in his right hand. Now he pivoted and came up with a roar. El Santo’s eyes widened in surprise, and he fumbled for his own sword. His henchman wasted no time, however. He raised his own pistol, and Bastien closed his eyes.
Something zipped past him and struck the man with enough force to cause him to drop his pistol and clutch his abdomen. Bastien had a moment to look behind him and saw his cabin girl, his beautiful cabin girl, standing there with arm outstretched. He’d known she’d be accurate with that dagger.
He grinned at her, but she gave him a look of horror. He turned in time to deflect El Santo’s first strike. Their blades clashed, and Bastien figured if Jourdain’s other men weren’t in the marketplace by now, they would be soon. The whole city must have heard the gunfire and now the clash of sword and cutlass.
But when El Santo thrust again, he had little time to worry about the future. Bastien had to concentrate on deflecting the blow. His shoulder felt as though it were on fire, the pain making it hard to concentrate or move as quickly as he would have liked. He could feel a stream of wetness soaking his shirt and coat, dripping from his hand onto the ground below. Still, he managed to push back El Santo and put him on the defensive. But the man charged him like some kind of berserker, and Bastien, worried he couldn’t stand up against such a strong assault, was forced to sidestep. El Santo pivoted and went for him again, and this time metal crashed with metal. Bastien clenched his teeth and forced his sword back against El Santo’s cutlass. Sweat streamed down his face and into his eyes, and he blinked. From the corner of his vision he saw a flurry of green. Was it just his blurred vision, or had his cabin girl gone to retrieve her dagger from El Santo’s man?
He saw her crouch beside the wounded man and doubled his efforts against El Santo. Jourdain’s lieutenant had his back to the man, and Bastien preferred to keep him occupied until she had the dagger in hand again. He met El Santo’s blade with his own, the clash of steel reverberating through his body painfully. But it wasn’t the pain he thought of. He’d just decided that if his cabin girl regained that blade, he was going to have to seriously consider marrying her.
***
Raeven had thought the man was dead, but when she reached for the dagger jutting from his abdomen, he grabbed her hand with his own bloody one. She let out a small screech, as much from surprise as the revulsion of his blood on her skin. Her vision wavered and went dark, then she bit hard on her lip and forced her hand free. The man reached for her again, but she punched him hard, and he rolled to the side. She leaned over him and freed the dagger with a sickening squelch. She wished she’d kept her gloves on because she was pretty certain there was some part of the man’s intestine on the hilt of the dagger, and it was slippery on her fingertips.
The sound of clashing swords drew her attention, and she watched as Cutlass deflected another of El Santo’s blows. Even in the moonlight, he looked decidedly gray. His blood dotted the ground, darkening the sand as the men’s feet trampled it. He fought valiantly, but she could see the tremor in his arm and hear how heavily he was breathing. He wouldn’t last much longer.
She didn’t know why she should care. She should let this El Santo take him, let this Jourdain finish him off. She was probably too much of a coward to
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