explanations to people who already thought her a little odd. It had happened to her before. She wasn’t anxious for it to happen again.
There were people who were supposed to take care of this sort of thing for her. Tremaine knew Gerard wasn’t her only guardian. He had been given the legal responsibility but she knew there were others who had been assigned to watch over her and she suspected Gerard knew who they were, though he had never said. Doubtless they had lost track of her between the confusion in the city and her abrupt removal from Coldcourt. She had a telephone exchange she could call to summon their assistance, but it was a little late for that. She swore under her breath. There were ways for her to take care of this herself and dispose of the body without anyone being the wiser, and she wished she had listened better to her early lessons so she knew what they were. Dammit .
She debated screaming and decided against it. It would be better to trap the intruder inside the room. She edged away, moving silently back to the nearest door. That should be Tiamarc’s room. Still keeping a wary eye on her own door, she reached out to knock.
It swung open at her touch. Oh no , was Tremaine’s first thought as she looked down the short hall into the darkened room. She saw a figure sprawled on the floor. Then this just happened . She fell back a step.
Her door swung open suddenly and a man stepped out. He was tall, compactly built, dressed in dark clothes and a long coat, his hair cropped short and oddly wearing a pair of driving goggles. He started toward her without hesitation, reaching out a gloved hand to grab her.
Yelling for help, Tremaine bolted back up the corridor, feeling the dusty carpet catch maddeningly at her clunky boots. Like a chase in a nightmare, she could hear him only a few steps behind her.
She threw a look back just as a door opened and Florian stepped out, wearing a flower print bathrobe. The man careened into her, sending them both sprawling on the floor. One of her father’s rules had always been “never fail to take advantage of a fallen enemy,” and almost before this shot through her thoughts, Tremaine skidded to a halt. The man brutally shoved Florian away, the girl yelping and curling up into a protective ball. Tremaine looked around wildly, then grabbed one of the spindly-legged side tables, upsetting the vase atop it and sending up a flurry of dust and dried flower petals. She smashed it down on the man’s head just as he climbed to his feet.
Instead of going down, he shook his head, dislodging the splintered fragments, and reached for her again. Tremaine stumbled back, appalled. The wood was light but the table had had a thin marble top, which she had felt connect with a satisfying thud. The man should have a cracked skull at least. Florian uncurled and kicked at his legs, her expression white and desperate in the dim light. He swatted at her, giving Tremaine a chance to grab up the fallen vase. As he turned back toward her she swung it by the neck, the heavy stoneware body catching him squarely in the chin.
His head jerked back and his return swing caught her in the cheek, slamming her sideways into the wall. She slid down the wainscoting, hearing Florian’s yelp of dismay.
The sound of the shot was like thunder in the close corridor.
Tremaine sat up, her head aching from the blow and the noise, feeling the pounding of running feet in the floorboards. Finally , she thought. She looked up Wearily as Florian crawled toward her, giving the man who lay flat on his back a wide berth. “Are you all right?” the other girl gasped.
Tremaine nodded, pressing a hand to the knot of pain in her cheek. “Yes, sort of,” she admitted. She blinked and saw Gerard and Niles leaning over the intruder, with Ander trying to look over their shoulders. He was holding a pistol. Colonel Averi and two of the soldiers assigned to guard the Institute personnel pelted up the corridor to join them.
There were people who were supposed to take care of this sort of thing for her. Tremaine knew Gerard wasn’t her only guardian. He had been given the legal responsibility but she knew there were others who had been assigned to watch over her and she suspected Gerard knew who they were, though he had never said. Doubtless they had lost track of her between the confusion in the city and her abrupt removal from Coldcourt. She had a telephone exchange she could call to summon their assistance, but it was a little late for that. She swore under her breath. There were ways for her to take care of this herself and dispose of the body without anyone being the wiser, and she wished she had listened better to her early lessons so she knew what they were. Dammit .
She debated screaming and decided against it. It would be better to trap the intruder inside the room. She edged away, moving silently back to the nearest door. That should be Tiamarc’s room. Still keeping a wary eye on her own door, she reached out to knock.
It swung open at her touch. Oh no , was Tremaine’s first thought as she looked down the short hall into the darkened room. She saw a figure sprawled on the floor. Then this just happened . She fell back a step.
Her door swung open suddenly and a man stepped out. He was tall, compactly built, dressed in dark clothes and a long coat, his hair cropped short and oddly wearing a pair of driving goggles. He started toward her without hesitation, reaching out a gloved hand to grab her.
Yelling for help, Tremaine bolted back up the corridor, feeling the dusty carpet catch maddeningly at her clunky boots. Like a chase in a nightmare, she could hear him only a few steps behind her.
She threw a look back just as a door opened and Florian stepped out, wearing a flower print bathrobe. The man careened into her, sending them both sprawling on the floor. One of her father’s rules had always been “never fail to take advantage of a fallen enemy,” and almost before this shot through her thoughts, Tremaine skidded to a halt. The man brutally shoved Florian away, the girl yelping and curling up into a protective ball. Tremaine looked around wildly, then grabbed one of the spindly-legged side tables, upsetting the vase atop it and sending up a flurry of dust and dried flower petals. She smashed it down on the man’s head just as he climbed to his feet.
Instead of going down, he shook his head, dislodging the splintered fragments, and reached for her again. Tremaine stumbled back, appalled. The wood was light but the table had had a thin marble top, which she had felt connect with a satisfying thud. The man should have a cracked skull at least. Florian uncurled and kicked at his legs, her expression white and desperate in the dim light. He swatted at her, giving Tremaine a chance to grab up the fallen vase. As he turned back toward her she swung it by the neck, the heavy stoneware body catching him squarely in the chin.
His head jerked back and his return swing caught her in the cheek, slamming her sideways into the wall. She slid down the wainscoting, hearing Florian’s yelp of dismay.
The sound of the shot was like thunder in the close corridor.
Tremaine sat up, her head aching from the blow and the noise, feeling the pounding of running feet in the floorboards. Finally , she thought. She looked up Wearily as Florian crawled toward her, giving the man who lay flat on his back a wide berth. “Are you all right?” the other girl gasped.
Tremaine nodded, pressing a hand to the knot of pain in her cheek. “Yes, sort of,” she admitted. She blinked and saw Gerard and Niles leaning over the intruder, with Ander trying to look over their shoulders. He was holding a pistol. Colonel Averi and two of the soldiers assigned to guard the Institute personnel pelted up the corridor to join them.
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