Heart of an Assassin (Circle of Spies) by Laura Pauling

vision.
    “Take cover!” roared Bartholomew. “And try not to breathe!”

 
     
     
Fourteen
    The whole family moved into action. Edith scrambled for her cane. The dad pulled a pistol from a drawer in the table. Janelle grabbed the meat cleaver. Will shot from his chair and whipped his head back and forth, searching the exits, his face a mask of scary determination.
    A masked man punched out the rest of the sliding glass door and crashed into the kitchen. I couldn’t miss the knife clutched in his hand. Flashbacks of the catacombs in Paris and Adamos created a jelly-like sensation in my knees. The blood, the wet, slippery feel. The metallic smell hitting the back of my throat. The clenching of my stomach. The heartbreak. It all came back and I slithered to the floor and cowered under the table. I hugged my knees and closed my eyes.  
    But I couldn’t block out the noise. The grunts. The groans. The crashing of objects being thrown. The landing of chairs. Something thumped next to me. Edith lay on her side, her eyes closed. Was she…? I shot my hand out to feel for a pulse in her neck, my fingers resting on her leathery skin. Still beating.
    “Help them,” she croaked. “They need you.”
    She pushed her cane toward me and I noticed the blade sticking out the end of it. I swallowed my breakfast back down, not able to reach out and grab the cane-turned-weapon. Smoke dried out the back of my throat and I coughed.
    Slowly, I inched to the side and peered out. Janelle swung the broad-bladed knife back and forth, missing the guy but backing him toward her husband on the far left of the kitchen. He held a kitchen chair over his head. His gun gleamed from under the couch across the floor. Oh my spy gods. I tried to get Will’s attention so he could find it but he lay slumped against the far wall off to the right. Blood dripped from the side of his head.
    No. This couldn’t be happening. As much as I hated this family, I loved Malcolm. And these people were his family. Through the ribbons of smoke, I could barely see Will, his face ashen, his body motionless. I crawled out from under the table and toward the gun. My hand itched just thinking about it. Tiny prickles of heat swarmed my skin from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.
    Halfway between the kitchen table and the gun, I heard a thump and a crash. Janelle lay crumpled on the floor, deathly still. Fear wrapped around my neck, like hands squeezing, making it hard to breath. I froze, my eyes glued to Bartholomew, the last man standing. He brought the chair down on the guy who easily batted it away.
    A shot echoed and Bartholomew grabbed his side and slammed against the wall. He slowly slid to the floor, his face contorted with pain.
    Tears blurred my vision and I scrambled for the gun. My fingers were inches away when my stomach exploded in pain. The attacker kicked me again and I rolled. Gasping for breath, I struggled to my feet. He seemed to be toying with me, waiting to see what I would do. His foot shot out, and he kicked the gun to the other side of the room near Will.
    Time stopped and I took inventory. Everyone was knocked out or dead. No one was left. Edith’s whispered words echoed inside me while Will’s ashen face reminded me of Malcolm’s. The smoke was dissipating but I still couldn’t see past my enemy’s mask.
    The man picked up a chair and launched it at me. I ducked but a leg caught the side of my head and knocked me off balance. I swear I heard him laugh which royally pissed me off.
    “Coward!” I cried out.
    Adrenaline surged through my arms and legs and I dropped to the ground. My fingers reached for Edith’s cane. All of sudden I was rushing at him. The room blurred, but this man remained perfectly clear, a dark target. A yell sounded off the walls and I realized it was me. In two steps I was at him, jabbing the cane. It plunged into his side.
    He grabbed his gut and lifted it away with blood on his hand. “Hey!”
    “Yeah,