“When did the Commander ever give a shit about that?” Marcus gripped his sword in both hands, his instincts clanging like a fire alarm. His back muscles thickened, his wing-locks hummed.
Death vamps shimmered into the rotunda, directly to the space in which the warriors had just geared up. Marcus swept his gaze over the group. Goddammit, there were too fucking many. Twenty, twenty-one. He stopped counting.
“Mounting,” he cried. His wings flew through his wing-locks, as did Luken’s, one more layer of protection for Havily.
The first attack came as three launched near him, rocketing high into the air, flying into the enormous height of the rotunda, trying to draw him away. He had never felt so focused in his life with his woman at his back and her existence depending on how deftly he and Luken maneuvered through the next few minutes.
“How we doin’?” he cried.
Luken responded, “I got four and they’re goin’ down.”
“Good. Keep Havily between us. Havily, don’t even think of folding. They’ll follow you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good. That’s good.” He heard Luken grunt and his sword ring as he engaged his pretty-boys.
Marcus’s own trio gave up the airspace but drew their wings back to close-mount and fired toward him like missiles. He took a deep breath, lowered his shoulders, dipped his chin. “Here they come.”
He plucked the dagger from his breastpiece and let it fly. It struck home, straight into the heart of the vamp to the left. At almost the same time, his sword met metal and he moved at preternatural speed to fend off each pair of thrusts again and again. The whole time he could sense Havily moving with him, completely in sync. He knew exactly where she was and only as he severed a head, leaving him but one death vamp to contend with, did he realize she was in his mind delivering a warning, very quietly.
Three on your left, she sent as a new wave of enemies flew in through the open walls. So yeah, the security system was down and there was only one ascender who could have done it. Greaves. Shit.
He also heard Havily on the phone. “Jeannie, we need cleanup. Is there anything you can do?” Pause. “There have to be at least two dozen bad guys here. But there’s … blood and other things all over the floor.”
In small increments, lights flashed and death vamp debris got cleaned up, thank you, God.
Havily, Marcus sent, you’ve got one helluva cool head on your shoulders.
Just keep fighting, Warrior.
More death vamps flew in, so this was a full-blown attack. Fortunately, Greaves couldn’t enter the battle himself. From what Medichi had told him, COPASS had only a handful of rules that they enforced the hell out of. Endelle and Greaves staying out of the fray happened to be, thank God, one of those rules.
Alison couldn’t believe her ascension celebration had turned into a full-on battle. She was tempted to bring her sword into her hand and engage but the combat was ridiculously close and there were so many death vamps. She didn’t have this kind of experience at all. It would be far too easy to accidentally wound one of the warriors.
She stuck close to Kerrick. He’d told her to stay at his back and had called Medichi over to guard her on the other side. Her heart beat heavily. She had never seen such a flurry of wings, and every kill meant that a terrible spray of blood landed … everywhere.
Havily’s voice rang out. “Major cleanup coming.”
A light flashed bright, like the one at the medical complex, blinding her for a second. Her stomach boiled as bodies, feathers, and body parts disappeared. She felt light-headed, especially since the clash of metal sounded in her ears. Between Medichi and Kerrick, the fighting was fast, furious, and deadly.
She measured the movements of both warriors and stayed within a couple of yards of each of them. Medichi didn’t mount his wings, but Kerrick’s white feathers flurried around her, sometimes stinging, sometimes soft flutters.
Over the next few minutes the death vamps kept coming. But eventually the numbers began to diminish and it seemed clear to Alison that the attack would soon be over—until she saw blurred movement near Luken, Havily, and Marcus.
A different kind of attack.
The blur solidified. Darian the Commander stood near them. He didn’t engage but watched her, a satisfied smile curving his lips. He must have created an intricate powerful mist to disguise his arrival, which prevented those nearest him from detecting his presence. However, she had no problem seeing through all the cobweb-like filaments that crisscrossed his face and body
What do you intend to do, ascender? Darian’s voice was in her head!
She fortified her shields and effectively pushed him out.
The Commander, she whispered into Kerrick’s mind.
Where?
By Marcus.
I don’t see him. Kerrick wielded his sword against two opponents now. Sweat dripped from his body.
I see him, Alison sent. I can kill him. I know it.
I still don’t see him. Are you sure?
There. By Marcus. This will be simple. Move to the left, Kerrick. I can end all of this, right now, here, tonight. Adrenaline flooded her. One powerful hand-blast and she could take him out, forever. Maybe this was her purpose, the reason Darian had so feared her ascension. Maybe she was destined to end the war by taking his life.
He moved closer to Marcus but he began to fade. He must have been shoring up his mist. She wouldn’t have much time at this rate. She had to make a decision and she had to make it quick.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She had been unable to take Leto’s life even before she learned he was working as a double agent. She was a therapist and believed in the redemption of the soul. However, Darian Greaves fell into an entirely different category, and though taking life was repugnant to her, if she had the chance to stop him, to destroy the greatest force of evil on Second Earth, shouldn’t she do it? Her conscience spoke for her: The monster across the room had to be stopped.
Darian’s arms vanished from view, then his legs. Kerrick, I’m going to take him out.
Wait. Just wait. I don’t see him. I’m almost finished here. One last pretty-boy to go.
Alison held back a few moments more, but Darian’s head and most of his shoulders were no longer visible; she had barely a torso to aim at.
As Kerrick finished off the last death vamp and moved to the left, she saw her opening. She lifted her hand and gathered power into her palm. A blast that could pass through a dimension could also dispatch an enemy of Second Earth.
Good-bye, Darian, she sent. Just as she fired, Kerrick’s voice rang out, “No!”
What happened next occurred in slow motion. The blast left her hand and she stumbled backward. At the same moment Darian’s image disappeared as well as all the cobweb-like signatures of his mist. Beyond, Marcus, Luken, and Havily all stared in horror, facing certain death from her hand. Then, in preternatural speed and at the very last split second, Kerrick moved in front of them and took the full force of the blast in his abdomen and chest.
He kept flying at the same angle he’d been moving. He glanced off Luken to land another twenty feet away into an adjoining rotunda.
Alison stood transfixed at what had just happened, at what she had just done. So Darian hadn’t been there at all—or had he moved at the last second? Oh, God, had she just killed the man she loved?
The Commander stood beside her now and murmured, “Oh, how unfortunate. I had meant for the other three to die, but well done, my dear. You’ve taken out a warrior I’ve been wanting to be rid of for, oh, twelve hundred years.”
Alison lowered her arm and turned to her right to look into the Commander’s eyes. Comprehension struck. “You tricked me?”
He shrugged, stroked her cheek with his finger. “This is war, my dear. Welcome to Second.” He lifted an arm then vanished.
Alison folded straight to Kerrick and dropped down beside him. Swords still clanged, the occasional bright flash of light blinded her, voices called across the rotunda floor. What did any of it matter when her beloved lay on the floor, his eyes rolling in his head, his body shaking, and the black leather of his weapons harness peeled back from his abdomen? She couldn’t look at the destruction of his flesh.
She had to do something, fast. Surely, she could change what had just happened, what she had just done.
Pocket of time reversal!
Yes, of course.
She thought the thought but nothing happened. She stood up and reached out with her hands but nothing happened. She tried to latch onto the sequence, tried to find a rope of time, but couldn’t. Why? Why? Why not this time, when she really needed it? But no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t find the key.
When she suddenly heard the Commander’s laughter, however, she knew exactly why.
“Someone get the healer,” she cried.
More blinding flashes of light, but metal no longer clashed against metal. Large bodies gathered around her. She clasped Kerrick’s hand and begged him to hold on.
“Get Horace,” she cried.
She glanced at Thorne, who dropped down beside Kerrick’s head. He slid his arm beneath his shoulders and lifted him to rest on his lap. He kept a hand pressed to Kerrick’s forehead.
“Too late,” he whispered. Tears shed from his eyes.
Alison shook her head. No. No! No! This couldn’t be happening.
“Why did you fire at us?” Luken asked.
“I was deceived. I thought I saw the Commander in front of you. He tricked me.”
Kerrick could not die. She would not let him die.
Kerrick stared up and watched as the painted ceiling of the rotunda melted away and the black night sky appeared, a death vision. He lay on his back, life draining from him. He saw the drift of galaxies as his dying brain reached up and out.
He had less than a minute now. He could no longer feel what had a moment earlier been his ice-cold limbs. He barely had an awareness of his body—only a deep sense of regret.
Alison, he called again.
Kerrick?
Relief flooded what was left of his conscious mind. He shifted his gaze and there she was.
