Lex Nelson's Arc

Chapter 6 of 13

Lex ran until her legs gave out. She dropped into a shallow pit ringed with old clay bricks, a dead place scattered with torn cloth and rusted scraps. Blood ran warm down her ribs. The dog crawled in beside her, ear matted dark. The sun pushed down hard. She pressed her palm to the wound and tried to think past the pounding in her skull. She peeled back her sleeve to tie it off and stopped. A leather bracelet sat snug on her wrist, beads sand-pale and faded, the metal clasp dulled. She had not worn it in years. She did not remember putting it on. But there it was, like he had slipped it over her hand while she slept. The dog whined. Lex sat up too fast, vision swimming, and saw it then at the lip of the crater — a slab of cracked wood half-buried in the dirt. A grave marker. The name on it was worn down to broken letters, but she knew the shape of those letters. She had carved them herself, a long time ago, a long way from here. She had been running blind. Now she knew. The poisoned map, the ambush, the wells — every step had pulled her along the same road she walked the day her partner died. Whoever set this trap knew her old ground. Knew her bones. This was not just about the auction. This was about her. Lex tore a strip from her shirt and bound the wound tight. She touched the bracelet once, then the marker, and stood. The dog rose with her, limping but ready. South still. Auction still. But she was not the hunted thing anymore. She knew the hand behind the knife now, and she meant to find it.