The Viper's Bite

Nyx shoved Silas backward with augmented force just as the lead "waiter" drew a silenced, repeating aether-pistol from beneath a silver serving tray.

A barrage of kinetic blue energy tore through the space Silas had occupied a fraction of a second before, shattering the crystal chandeliers and sending the high-society attendees screaming into a stampede.

Nyx didn't run. She ripped a jeweled throwing comb from her hair and hurled it with blinding speed. It buried itself in the lead shooter’s throat. He dropped, but the other three didn't even flinch at their comrade’s death.

They dropped their trays, their own spines emitting a high-pitched, mechanical whine that Nyx knew intimately.

* Click-whir.*

They had the implants. The exact same highly illegal, experimental clockwork spine augmentations that she possessed.

"No," Nyx breathed, a cold dread pooling in her stomach. The technology was exclusive to the Syndicate handler who had enslaved her. The Shadow Cabinet wasn't just using independent assassins; they were in bed with the Syndicate.

One of the augmented killers lunged at her, drawing a pair of serrated trench knives.

Nyx met his charge. The fight was a blur of supernatural speed. To the screaming civilians, they were nothing but violent shadows. Nyx parried a slash, the serrated blade catching the silk of her red dress and tearing it open from thigh to hip.

She ignored the cold air rushing against her skin. She dropped low, sweeping the assassin’s legs, and drove the heel of her stiletto heel—a literal stiletto, reinforced with steel—into his sternum, crushing the aether-battery housed there.

A second killer tackled her from the side. They crashed through a buffet table, sending caviar and ice sculptures flying. The assassin pinned her, raising a vibrating electro-blade to decapitate her.

Nyx grappled with his wrist, her brass spine screaming in overdrive as she fought against a machine-enhanced strength that matched her own. She was losing leverage.

Suddenly, the deafening *crack* of a heavy revolver echoed over the chaos.

The assassin above her jerked violently, a bullet hole appearing in his shoulder. He stumbled back.

Nyx looked over. Silas was standing ten feet away, holding a smoking revolver he had ripped from a dead security guard. His face was a mask of cold fury.

The third and final assassin realized the President was exposed. He abandoned Nyx and blurred toward Silas, raising his aether-pistol.

"Silas, move!" Nyx screamed, scrambling to her feet, tearing the restrictive skirt of her dress away to free her legs. She pushed her implants to the absolute limit, the gears grinding painfully against her vertebrae.

She threw herself between Silas and the assassin just as the gun discharged.

But Silas was faster. In a move of pure, instinctual protection, he grabbed Nyx’s waist and violently spun them around, shielding her body with his own.

The aether-bolt struck Silas square in the back.

He let out a choked gasp, his body arching in agony, and collapsed forward, taking Nyx down with him.

"No!" Nyx roared. The world tunneled.

She grabbed the fallen revolver from Silas’s limp hand. Without aiming, relying entirely on the targeting algorithms burned into her mechanical spine, she fired three shots. The heavy slugs tore through the remaining assassin’s knees and chest. He dropped instantly.

The ballroom was suddenly, terrifyingly quiet, save for the hum of the zeppelin and the whimpers of the hiding guests.

Nyx dropped the gun, her hands shaking violently. She rolled Silas over. His face was pale, his breathing shallow. The aether-burn had scorched right through his suit, but the bulletproof silk had dispersed enough of the kinetic impact to keep it from blasting a hole through his chest.

"Silas," Nyx panicked, pressing her hands against the wound. "Silas, look at me. Stay with me."

His blue eyes fluttered open, glassy with shock. He looked up at her, a weak, bloody smile touching his lips. "You... ruined the dress."

"You stupid, idealistic fool," Nyx choked out, tears of absolute terror blurring her vision. "I'm the bodyguard. You don't take a bullet for me."

"I protect... what is mine," Silas whispered, before his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious.