Witch Heart - By Anya Bast Page 0,2

their hopes and dreams of victory against the ruling Ytrayi. They would each want control of it.

Lucky her to carry such a treasure.

Claire bolted.

Realizing they'd lost their prey, the Atrika stopped their territorial dispute and followed her.

Ducking low and swerving, she just evaded Tevan's grasp and shot out of the alley, dodging tall silver cans, lumpy black sacks, and jumping over discarded boxes. Her shoes, made for the sleek marble floors of the palace, hadn't fared well on the concrete pathways of Earth. Shredded on the bottom, they provided little protection.

Something sharp stabbed her sole and she yelped, feeling a gush of hot, sticky blood. She cursed in Aemni, one of the languages commonly spoken among all the breeds. Now she was leaving a perfect trail for them.

She careened out into the street and nearly collided with a man. He yelled at her as she dove around him and sped down the sidewalk.

Across the way, a flood of people exited a building, spilling out into the night-dark streets under a brightly lit overhanging sign, talking and laughing. Knowing a crowd was her only chance, Claire detoured, pounding across the road. The shiny fast-moving conveyances—cars, that's what they were called—honked and swerved.

She plunged into the crowd on the other side, scattering those directly around her with surprised gasps. Risking a glance backward, she saw the two Atrika had reached the street and had spotted her. They made their way toward her.

"Help! Help me!" Her voice sounded rusty and she choked on the English. She'd used it with Rue when he wanted practice and with the earth witch, Thomas, when he'd been trapped in Yrystrayi. Otherwise she hadn't spoken it since her mother had died.

The people around her appeared alarmed. Most didn't look at her. They pretended she wasn't standing there asking for aid in tattered shoes and a torn, dirty dress that provided no protection against the cold bite of the air. Some glanced at her with pity on their faces: others smirked and talked behind their hands. A woman pressed one of the pieces of green paper into her palm. Claire stared down at it, uncomprehending. She'd asked for help, not money.

"Please, the daae—demons," she whispered. "The Atrika demons will get me."

The Atrika would crack the seat of her magick open to get the elium. Crack her like a nut for the meat inside. How had Rue ever expected her to succeed? One aeamon servant against two motivated Atrika daaeman?

She closed her eyes, reliving the moment when the Atrika had forced the door of the Ytrayi portal chamber down. The burst of brilliant magick, the bellows and war whoops, the Atrika all in a killing rage. Rue could even now be dead. There was no help in her immediate future. Even if Rue had survived, it would take a long time to open another doorway, even longer for Rue to track her down.

A hand curled over her shoulder, startling her. She looked up into a handsome male face. Elegant, sloping brown brows, green eyes, a smile. "Come with me," the man said. "There's a diner just up the way. We'll get a meal and see what we can do to help you."

Her gaze flicked back to the daaeman crossing the street. They were growing very close now. She grabbed the man's arm. "Yes, let's go."

He patted her hand. "It's all right. Calm down now, okay?"

She glanced backward at her pursuers. "Let's stay with the crowd. Do you mind?"

"Of course not. Will the crowd keep the… demons… away?"

Oh, thank all Four Houses and the Patrons! He understood. She nodded emphatically. "They won't hurt me if I'm with humans. They don't want to incite an interdimensional incident."

He raised his eyebrows. "Ah. Let's go then. What's your name?"

"Claire."

"Claire, what a lovely name. What's your last name?"

She didn't answer because she didn't know it. Her mother had never told her. She only shook her head and glanced away, embarrassed. Were surnames very important here? A mark of class, perhaps?

As they walked, the man flipped open a small black object, punched some buttons and spoke into it. Claire didn't pay attention to what he said, she was too focused on the daaeman following them. They kept their distance now, but they would stalk her until they found her alone and vulnerable. All she'd done was buy herself some time.

Claire hoped the humans had some way of dealing with Atrika. She'd heard one had been stuck here without a doorway for many years. The witches had