Lorenzo's eyes went wide. His mouth opened against mine, gasping.
I twisted the blade before pulling out and his whole body shuddered against mine. The sight of his blood made me harder and I hated myself for it.
We stood there, frozen, my blade dripping between us.
Then he shoved me. My back hit someone behind me and by the time I recovered my balance, he was already gone.
But it didn’t matter. My blade had done its job, and now Lorenzo couldn’t go anywhere without leaving a crimson trail behindhim.
The blood trail ledme through a door marked PRIVATE. A service corridor descended into darkness on the other side. That passage opened into the catacombs. The pale beam of my phone’s flashlight illuminated blood drops gleaming black on ancient stone.
Footsteps echoed somewhere ahead. I smiled when I realized he was running.
You can run, but you can’t hide.
I rounded a corner, and the beam found him maybe forty yards down the passage. Lorenzo had one hand pressed to his side, the other braced against the wall. He glanced back, cursed, and took off running again.
I followed, saving my strength. Let him wear himself out. There was nowhere for him to go, and I’d catch up to him, eventually.
He jumped over a pile of bones, and I followed. The ceiling dropped low enough that I had to hunch. Stone scraped across my shoulders through the cassock. Ahead, Lorenzo wedged himself through a narrow section, and I closed the distance between us. I reached out and got a fistful of his jacket.
He spun before I could drag him back, and his blade came at my face. I jerked away, but not in time to avoid a graze on the cheek. I touched my hand to my face, and it came away bloody.
Damn him.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed through the narrow corridor until I stumbled into a large burial chamber at the other end. A half-rotten sarcophagus scraped over the floor toward me. I barely got out of the way in time to avoid being hit. A skull came hurling through the air and smashed into the wall beside my head. Bone dust rained down and got in my eyes, and I lost too much time blinking to clear them.
But he didn’t get far. I caught up to him again in a circular chamber with only one way out, and that corridor was behind me. He was leaning against the far wall, pale and panting.
"Nowhere left to run," I said and drew my blade.
“Who said I was running?” He pushed off the wall and came at me.
He lunged at me with a strike aimed at my heart. Fast, but not Lorenzo-fast. I slipped inside his guard and used his momentum to slam him back into the catacomb wall. Stone scraped my knuckles raw, and bone fragments rained down on both of us. His free hand shot up and wrapped around my throat, but the squeeze was weak.
Pressure built in my temples as he tried to strangle me. Blood pounded in my ears. I drove forward and pinned his knife hand against stone. We ended up inches apart, him staring up at me, panting.
"You can’t kill me," he whispered.
I gritted my teeth and leaned in. “Who says?”
“Me,” he managed, and I flinched as his hand cupped between my legs. “You want me too much.”
My grip on his wrist loosened, and he twisted free before I could tighten my hold again. His boot came around in a kick, and I blocked it, but the impact sent pain shooting up my forearm. He stumbled on the follow-through and winced.
Then he was moving again, stumbling toward the far wall. His fist came down on a raised square, and another door opened up. Dammit, he was going to get away.
I followed him up the stairs on the other side of the secret doorway, gaining on him with every step. By the time we reached moonlight his breathing came in ragged gasps. His left arm hung tight against his side.
The passage opened onto a small courtyard, and ancient walls enclosed us. Lorenzo braced himself against the weathered stone and turned to face me. His chest heaved, but his blade still gleamed in the moonlight.
"End of the line," I said.
"Is it?" He pushed off the wall, and his knife spun through his fingers, but he winced halfway through the rotation. "I'm just getting warmed up."
I sliced at his ribs. He tried to flow around the strike, but he wasn’t fast enough. The knife passed through the fabric, barely missing skin. He grabbed my wrist and tried to spin me into the wall, but his grip slipped and we crashed together on the ground. His knife pressed against my throat.
“Did you even read the checks you were signing?” he asked. “Or did you just do whatever you were told like a good little priest?”
