“Let them go.” My voice sounded different, deep and hollow, as though echoing in my ears. I straightened and flexed my fingers. They sizzled in the moisture flicking in on a gust of wind. “Beg, and I may spare your life.”
Bruce laughed. “You’re the one who should be begging.”
“I decimated your darkling army. You have it wrong.”
“You think that was all I have?”
Anger ripped a snarl from my throat and I punched my energy-laden fists to the sofa. It skittered right, out of my way. I strode forward, kicking a fallen machete out of the way. I didn’t need it now. I slammed my fist into the coffee table, splintering it. It felt good. Hurt good.
Eve dragged Lincoln backward over the couch and Bruce did the same with Wren, putting the sofa between us. I screamed in frustration and simply stepped over it. They backed away until they were against the far window, wind and rain gusting in over their heads through the broken blinds.
My pathway was clear. Nothing but air between me and the four.
They were too calm. Too practiced. Schooled. As though they’d planned this move and were waiting for me to advance. Too easy.
Bruce glanced at Eve and jerked his head back, signaling a retreat through the windows.
Eve’s eyes widened as she glimpsed the open window over her shoulder. “Through the rain?”
“Yes, through the rain.”
“Didn’t plan on the rain, did you, Eve?” I said, inching forward. Witches hated the rain. They feared it. Water was one of the only things that could kill them. Drown a witch and her energy dissipated and dispersed. Like a lightning bolt striking the sea, the electricity of her life would conduct from drop to drop of rain until there was no more. The only thing saving her right now was the body she hosted inside.
“Shut up,” she said. “You don’t know what we’ve planned.”
“Oh, I think I do. All of this. You planned all of this. But you don’t know what I know.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes at me, calculating. “Leave. She’s bluffing.”
Eve inched backward, tugging Lincoln by the throat. She took her eyes off me to check the rain.
“Go,” Urser urged, and yanked on the broken blinds, clearing them from the window.
But Eve hesitated, fear in her ancient eyes.
Why was he so insistent on leaving if he knew his army was coming to rescue him?
Unless they were too far away to get here on time.
Was it really possible Bruce thought he was no match for me? But that last blast of energy I used to move the couch near depleted me. If I kept my bluff going, I could force them to release my friends before they went. Or I could replenish. If my body could take it. But there were no bats, no birds and no soldiers to siphon. The only life available was before me. Four people, only two I was prepared to tap.
I pushed my essence outwards to connect with them, but it went sluggishly. Air dragged into my heaving lungs. I had to connect before I could pull, before I could drain. My weakened body had trouble recovering from the recent surge. It wasn’t doing as it was told.
Panic gripped my heart and squeezed. Maybe that’s what he wanted. To drain me. To deplete me.
“Back away, Roo, while you still can. My army is coming.” Urser squeezed Wren’s shoulder. “And with this one, I’ll have an army of darkling animals as well. I’ll be unstoppable. And then I’ll take the gate.”
“You don’t have the key,” I said. “You need my blood.”
“Are you sure? The hunter is your soulmate. His blood will do.”
Suddenly, our future was laid out before us. With absolute certainty I knew it wouldn’t end well. I let out a sob I couldn’t hold.
“I’m sorry,” I said to my friends. “This is all my fault.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Roo,” Lincoln said, catching my attention. While his mouth spoke, his eyes directed my attention elsewhere. To the machete on the floor between us. “We all made our own choices. You have to trust me.”
Trust me, he’d said. My brain scrambled to make sense of his intentions. He wanted me to trust him. With the machete.
“I’ve never been good at much in my life here, but there’s one thing you know about me for sure,” Lincoln said. “One thing we’ve always had in common.”
He wanted Urser dead.
I darted a glance between him and Urser, who stood marginally closer to me, holding Wren like a shield before him. Lincoln had access to the soft part of Urser’s side. His underbelly and vital organs.
With my power, I threw the machete, hilt first, toward Lincoln. He plucked it out of the air and flipped it to stab through the gap of his own arm and body. Behind him, the blade sank into Eve’s soft flesh. It was enough for her to loosen her grip on his neck. That was all he needed to twist free. Lincoln’s face contorted with concentration and he spun toward my father, blade slicing forward.
Too quick. It happened too quick.
Bruce wrenched Wren around and shoved her toward Lincoln.
Lincoln’s blade plunged deep into her chest, front and center. Blood spurted from the wound. Arteries hit.
“No!” Lincoln screamed and let go of the knife. The hilt wobbled as Wren staggered back, surprise flaring her eyes.
“Wren!” I shouted and staggered forward.
Blood leaked from her mouth. She dropped to her knees. Lincoln caught her in his arms. “No, Wren,” he cried, face crumpling. “Don’t. Don’t leave me. We haven’t finished our adventure. Heal.”
But the instant he said the word, Urser reached down and touched Wren’s cheek.
A flitter. A feather light touch. That was all he made before he launched out the window, escaping.
“No!” I cried. “You bastard!”
Dark veins burst from the contact point on Wren’s cheek. Her mouth opened to a wide O shape and she choked. The poison invaded her body.
“Do something, Roo. Help her!” Lincoln grabbed the front of my shirt and shook me.
“I-I…” Fierce determination gripped me and I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of the knife in her chest. I pulled.
I sliced my palm and laid it on her chest. Warm liquid oozed between my fingers and I screamed in my mind for her body to reject his poison.
“It’s not working,” I said. “Her heart isn’t beating fast enough. It’s not circulating my antidote. I don’t even know if his poison is the same as the dark serum.” Even Urser said it took them years to perfect the serum.
“What do we do?” Lincoln said desperately.
I handed him the blade. “Kill her. Save her soul. Send it to Purgatory.”
He didn’t hesitate. He took the blade and, with a keening wail of anguish, drove it back into her heart, twisting. The life left Wren’s eyes, her vibrant aura rose from her body and dissipated into the atmosphere. Lincoln looked to me for guidance. “Did it work? Is she safe?”
“Yes. I sensed her soul leave. She’s okay.” I cried. Hot, wet tears streamed down my face and I tugged Lincoln into my embrace. “I’m so sorry, bro.”
For a minute, he stiffened, then he softened into me. His hands slapped around my back and he gripped tight, crying into my shoulder. His body trembled in my arms.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered and stroked his hair. “She’s okay. She’s fine. You did the right thing. She’s safe.”
I kept whispering comforting words until, sniffing, he pulled away and looked into my eyes, frowning. “She didn’t deserve this. She was the kindest, most caring soul I ever met.”
"I know.”
He moved to Wren’s body and picked her up, shifted her onto his lap. He stroked her cheek. “We had plans to travel the world. We had plans, Roo.”
My heart ached for him. “I’m so sorry, Lincoln.”
“That fucking bastard. I’m going to turn him inside out.”
“I’m right there with you, buddy—”
I stopped talking. Movement on my left.
Danger imminent, I froze.
Eve had her hand plastered to her wound but, unlike me, she had to hex herself to heal her body. Nephilim bodies healed on their own, but witches had to direct their body to heal. Eve could either save her host’s body, or escape with her life. The heavy rain outside prevented her from leaving in spirit form.
Her eyes grew feral with the awareness she was locked in this room with me.
Looking back now, I should’ve known. A cornered caged animal never conceded.
Eve hissed. Her eyes bled to black as she channeled her energy, preparing to fight.
I did the same. With all that I could, I scraped the bottom shelf of my ocean and lifted it up. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Eve’s arms floated at her side, lifting slowly, blood stained palms facing the ceiling. She kept hold of my gaze as broken shards of glass trembled at her feet, shimmering and lifting into the air. Big, glistening triangular blades of glass rotated in the air.
“Don’t do it, Eve,” I warned, readying myself to throw up a shield of air.
I thought she would come for me. I prepared myself to make the barrier in front of me, but she twisted to face Lincoln, still holding Wren, his back to us. I threw air her way, to try and intercept, but she threw the glass at Lincoln. I wasn’t quick enough. Shards jackhammered into my friends. Their bodies shook as though being shot, but it was glass, not bullets that riddled their skin and lodged in deep, preventing healing.
I screamed and opened the floodgates. The energy bustling outside in nature poured through me in an avalanche. Rain, air, and debris flew inside the room from all windows. I was a conduit for the storm. A hurricane exploded around me, whirling, lifting pillows, plates and furniture into the air. It was the water I was interested in, and as I approached her, I forced it into her body, through every orifice. Water plastered to her skin and ran upwards in rivulets into her horrified eyes, her mouth, her nose. She tried to scream, but no air could escape. I stalked toward her, sending everything I had her way. Agony sliced through me. Too much. My body couldn’t take it. My right knee folded and I collapsed, hitting the tiles. My hands landed with a thud on the floor. I was burning, from the inside. Consumed.
But I kept going.
I crawled, malice spewing from my eyes.
“Drown,” I spat. My hands slapped on her fallen, writhing body. “Fucking, die you witch.”
Black ooze gushed out of her eyes. It was her stained life-force trying to escape, but it had nowhere to go except into the puddle around her where it drifted and dissipated.
And then she was gone.
Lincoln made a gargling sound. I wrenched my tormented body around and somehow made it to him. So much blood. So much lost life.
“Roo,” he gurgled. “Don’t save me. Let me go.”
Tears burned my eyes. Water welled. “But…”
“I want to be with Wren.”
My lips mashed together. I nodded.
“When I get back, my memories come with me, right?”
“Yeah, buddy, I think they do.”
“Good. I want to remember her. Let us make this last trip together.”
I was all out crying now. I nodded. “Whatever you want.”
He choked, eyes wide as he tried to control his convulsion. When he was done, he licked his lips and solemnly met my eyes. “Do you want me to tell them anything when I return?”
Clarity hit me in that moment. It was as if everything I’d learned over the past few months finally sunk in. I always tried to deny being the queen because she was destruction as well as creation, but I couldn’t run from my instincts. I had the power to take life, and to give it. I had to embrace my true nature if I wanted a chance at defeating Urser. I licked my lips.
“Tell them,” I said, “that Urser has perfected a way of infecting Seraphim to control them. Tell them he wants Ursa Constellation in power, and he’s been plotting this entire time to get there. He’s declared war. Tell them the queen says to be ready.”
I placed my palms on his chest, trying not to knock the glass speared in random places for fear of hurting him more, but he was beyond pain now.
He nodded grimly. “Do it.”
With the last of my reserves, I sent a pulse of energy through him and pushed his soul out. It fizzled and popped as it bled into the atmosphere.
Silence.
There was no other aura in the room but me.
A great, wracking sob shook me and I collapsed on the floor.
“I’m sorry, Kitty,” I whispered, because I may have just signed her death warrant.
Chapter 17
“Love?”
I groaned in the cold darkness and blocked my ears. My head pounded and every noise hurt. Words without words were all around me. Everywhere. Whispers of a thousand soulless voices called to me from somewhere.
“Love, wake up.”
Light pressure on my cheek opened my eyes. The whispers hushed, stopped chittering, as though they’d heard him, too. Directly in front of me was Marc’s face, worry etched deep into his eyes. He sighed in relief.
“Marc?”
“Love, I’m sorry. I couldn’t find you. There’s something about this place.” He was crouched over me, frowning. “And your aura is quiet. Small. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
I wanted to answer him, but through the open windows, nature called to me. It beckoned. The voices were out there. Thousands of them, coaxing, pulsing through the wind. They tickled my skin, testing me. They wanted in. “No, you can’t.”
“What, love?”
“I’m not talking to you.” A mumble was all I could manage.
“Who are you talking to?”
“The Universe. The Earth. A thousand souls of the night. I don’t really know… just that it wants me,” I slurred and tried to get up, but couldn’t move. So tired. “It’s talking.”
“Don’t move. You need medical attention.”
“I’m okay.” I licked my lips. My throat was so dry.
“Your aura is so weak. What did you do?”
What did I do?
Lincoln. Wren. Gone.
Kitty.
My throat closed up and I wheezed, trying to catch a breath.
Panicked, Marc gathered me into his arms. “Take it easy, Sephie.”
“I’m not”—I choked—“her yet.”
“Relax. Breathe.”
“Get your hands off her.” A dark, masculine voice pierced the air.
Cash vaulted through a window, mindless of the broken sill.
That first sight of him burned into my brain. It was a sudden stroke of clarity in my otherwise blurry mind. His golden skin, stern but beautiful face, and thunderous eyes that connected to my heart. Like the storm that had passed. My storm.
He landed next to me, breathing hard and panting as though he’d run a marathon, and pried me from Marc’s hands. He palmed Marc’s chest, shoving him away. “This is your fucking fault, Gamekeeper.”
Uh-oh. Official names. Cash was pissed. I touched him, feeling the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw, the stubble he’d been too busy to shave. A sheen of sweat shone on his brow.
“She needs medical attention,” Marc said, ignoring Cash’s animosity. “Where is everyone? I thought you brought back-up.”
“I ran here.”
He ran?
“She depleted herself fighting Urser,” Marc said and rested a palm on my forehead. “Her body is weak. Close to crossing, I can sense it. We need Lena.”
“I said, get your hands off her.” Cash shoved Marc again.
My breathing accelerated, my chest tightened. “Stop it.” The words took too much effort. “Stop fighting.”
“Take my energy,” Cash ordered.
“No, this is my fault, take mine, love.”
“Stupid men,” I slurred, eyes rolling back. “The world will give me her energy.”
“No, love. Don’t do it. You’re not strong enough to let it in. Your body is weak. Do you hear me?”
Do
n’t let it in. I locked onto those words and used them as my anchor.
A sharp sting in the crook of my arm roused me from sleep.
So I was alive.
Still hurting.
Oh God. Pain strapped me down. I whined, grimacing in the glare of blinking lights overhead. What was happening? Where was I? Bright lights. A few more seconds and the room came into focus.
A medical type room. Sterile white walls, stainless steel equipment… and I was on a bed. A gurney. It was a doctor’s surgery, or… must be one of the labs. Nausea rose violently in my stomach and I retched. That body. Chest with ribs open like a butterfly. My skin was clammy.
“Hurry,” someone said… Marc?
The sting again. I glanced down at my arm. A clear, plastic tube stuck out of it. “What the hell?” I tugged.
“Leave it in, Roo.” Cash growled from beside me.
I glanced over. He lay on a twin hospital gurney a hand’s-width away. Marc stood next to Cash with the end of my tube in his hand. He connected it to a needle in Cash’s arm.
“This is a bad idea,” Marc mumbled. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“What are you doing?” I murmured.
“We’re infusing you with my blood,” Cash said. “Jesop and Lena are on their way, but if we don’t…”
His voice faded and dark clouds battled bright spots in my vision. From a distance I heard male voices. I fought for clarity, came to, and tried to pull the tube out. I knew it was stupid. My Nephilim body had burned out. I remembered that. But the only other choice was to let Eve win and Lincoln suffer. I knew the consequences. Still… “I’m not ready to die.” I faded out.
“Roo.” Cash’s voice broke. “Don’t you die on me, Roo.”
I sobbed and licked my lips. “The voices are quieter now. I’m okay.” But as the words came out, I knew in my heart that I wasn’t okay. A wrongness sat heavy in me, like a rolling stone, falling, gathering momentum. It was my soul trying to leave my broken body.
His hand floundered until he sourced my own and gripped tight. “You will die without this. You will leave me, and I can’t have that.”
“But—” I took a deep, shuddering breath.
The Game of Gods: Series Box Set Page 84