“Nico,” Kazuaki tried again to reach him, but his spine’s ability to hold his body upright faded. He barely felt his cheek hit the stone ground, the dampness of the accumulated rain only resonating as a scarcely recognizable cold. His nerves stopped processing sensations. Like the rest of him, his tongue failed to move.
The last thing Kazuaki remembered was the one thing the dart could not paralyze: the overwhelming sentiment of anguish at the mental collapse of Nicholai Addihein. If the gods could ruin the unwavering resolve of the Southeastern Time Father, the man who Kazuaki came to respect as being immovable in his ethics ... that only meant one thing.
Nobody was safe.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Shit, shit, shit—”
Brack burst out from his hiding place inside a steam car he picked the lock on prior. He nearly tripped over his legs when he saw the captain collapse to the ground. It was a sight he’d never witnessed before, and one he never intended to witness again. He slid to his knees and inspected Kazuaki, finding the empty vial belonging to the dart close by.
“Nico!” Brack spayed his fingers and held his hands out in a shrug of confusion. “What the feck, mate?”
Umbriel, who watched from the partially pulled curtains in the Addihein household, threw the front door open and assumed a defensive stance on the porch. “Brack, be cautious,” she warned, her eyes wide. “I fear Madros has broken through his last shred of fortitude.”
Brack arched a brow, turning back to face Nicholai, who threatened him with nothing more than an ominous glare. “I see,” the Rabbit muttered, keeping a keen focus on the manipulated Time Father.
Bermuda ran out from an adjacent alley, cursing as her eyes stumbled on Kazuaki’s fallen form. She had watched from the sidelines out of caution and regretted it fully. “We’ll have to secure him,” she instructed to Brack, removing a short dagger from the place it was stashed inside her boot, “as we did with Vadim.”
Brack spied Bermuda’s dagger, only taking his focus off Nicholai for a moment. “Well, we can’t feckin’ kill him—”
Bermuda glared, tightening her grip on her small blade’s handle. “Why do you think I grabbed the dagger instead of the gun?”
Having heard the commotion of Umbriel dashing out into the forefront, Jernal filled the doorway with his body, leaning his palms on the frame as he stared outside. “What the hell is going on?” he asked, incredulous, as he saw the body of Madros, and what appeared to be the body of the immortal Captain Kazuaki Hidataka on the cobblestone streets of Nenada.
“Nico’s a wee bit possessed at the moment,” Brack informed him, removing a dagger from his hilt. “You could make yourself useful and get out here; we gotta restrain him and get him inside.”
Jernal did not need to be told twice. He rushed out the door, wincing only at the surprise of the cold rain from above. “It’s three against one, it shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Four.” Granite rounded a corner behind Nicholai’s house, his eyes on the Southeastern Time Father.
Brack smirked as he looked at Jernal. “Don’t be so sure. You ever tried fighting a man before with restraint? Hard not to kill a fecker.”
Jernal shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. As a soldier, he had destroyed his fair share of lives, but he detained far more than he ended. “He’s a pacifist with no weapons. This is going to be a cakewalk.”
“He still has three darts left,” Bermuda cautioned, edging her way to Nicholai’s other side. She saw the Time Father’s eyes follow her, though his head did not move. It sent a chill through her veins. “Enough to even the playing field.”
“This is ridiculous,” Jernal muttered, removing the handcuffs he kept at his hip from when he served as a footman in Southern. “Just hold him down.”
Bermuda was pinned by Nicholai’s focus. She felt frozen. It was as unsettling as it was unusual. At that moment, Granite’s dog ran out the door that Jernal left ajar, barking as he descended on Nicholai, absent of any fear. The Time Father’s gaze shifted to the canine, tearing away from Bermuda.
Brack took full advantage of the distraction. He bolted toward Nicholai and tackled him to the ground, feeling the full force of the unforgiving stone beneath them. “You know I love you, mate!” he shouted, holding tight to the Time Father as he writhed under his grasp. “But this is for your own good, so I ain’t gonna go easy on you!”
Without a word, Nicholai opened the shield on his forearm. The metal splayed out, cutting into the arms Brack wrapped around him. The sting made the Rabbit release him. Freed from the man’s hold, Nicholai struck his shield into his attacker’s nose and shoved his body away from his.
“Son of a bitch!” Brack dropped his dagger, his hands involuntarily coming up around his already swelling nose. Blood from split skin and his nostrils collected into his palm, though the rain was quick to wash it away. “Fecker packs some punch for a pacifist!” he scowled to Jernal, his words muffled as he held his hand around his injury.
Nicholai scooped up Brack’s dagger, surprisingly light on his feet. He turned toward Jernal, Bermuda, and Granite, making sure not to have his back to them. He flipped the small blade around in his palm until the handle settled well into his grip.
The desolate look in his eyes said he might kill them. Of that, Bermuda had no doubt. She couldn’t gamble on the hope that the Time Father’s cognition would return by his own will. “Nico.” She didn’t take any steps toward him, not wanting to breed additional panic in the already unsteady man. She tried to remember what Kal said regarding Vadim's reformation. She needed to appeal to his character. “Look at Brack. Look at what you did to him. That’s not who you are.”
Nicholai responded with a contemptuous stare. It was eerier than if he had said anything. Vehemence seemed so misplaced on him.
Penn, the last to appear, came up behind Umbriel after exiting the house. He stole a glimpse of her, immediately getting a feel for the desperation behind the situation. The captain was down. Nicholai was possessed. “Feckin’ shit,” he muttered, reaching down to scoop a few rocks into his palm. The closest non-lethal objects he found. “Oi, Nico—”
In his peripheral vision, Nicholai flicked his eyes to Penn.
“Catch.” The Elmbroke man whipped a rock toward him, having earned much experience throwing stones in the wayward home for orphaned children.
Nicholai looked unamused as he lifted his shield. The rock bounced off it without damage.
Capitalizing on another distraction, Bermuda leaped forward. Her small blade bit into the side of his knee.
Nicholai seethed. He spun, clipping the temple of her skull with his shield before he dropped.
Bermuda fell to her palms, swearing as she raised her free hand to the side of her head. Warm wetness met her skin, a blunt contrast to the cold rain from above. It bled profusely, as head wounds did. She rolled away from him and righted her position to a stand.
The attack seemed to hinder his movements, but it did not dampen his quiet ferocity. He did not grip his injury. He simply let it bleed.
Granite removed a small blade, taking a cue from Bermuda. He feared neither shield nor dart. Granite assumed he could take at least two of the three injections Nicholai still housed in his forearm before he fell. But the Time Father had other plans.
Nicholai raised his arm. The blade Granite held corroded. The behemoth dropped it with haste, not wanting to end up like a crippled heap of dust as the late Darjal Wessex did back in Avadon. He growled, angered by his inability to restrain the rogue man.
Brack’s eyes flicked to the fallen captain, his finger still applying pressure to his split nose. He spit out a mouthful of blood that had washed into the back of his throat. “Bet Cap’s wishing he didn’t teach Nico how to defend himself now.”
Bermuda scowled. She dug her heels into the wet stones beneath her. “We’re done playing nice. Umbriel can heal his wounds. Just bring him down, so long as it’s not an instant fatality.”
&nbs
p; “Aye aye, quartermaster!” Brack pulled a pistol from his hip, but before he aimed, Nicholai rusted the device in his hands. “Gods dammit!” The Rabbit cursed and chucked the weapon aside. “His feckin’ parlor tricks are hard to beat, love.”
From the porch, Umbriel steeled herself. “He can’t keep it up forever.” Every year of his life he gave away into corroding the weapons weakened him. She already saw the Time Father’s posture stagger as his breathing became tortured.
Granite rotated his shoulders and charged. His first swing missed and earned him a stab in the arm. Nicholai was quicker, but the massive man had endurance. An exchange of attacks met Nicholai’s shield. Then he landed a hit.
His fist met the Time Father’s ribs, some of which buckled under the force. Nicholai wheezed sharply, but wild desperation slid the dagger across Granite’s exposed torso before he staggered away.
Granite huffed, his gaze flicking down to the crimson that stained his shirt. It wasn’t deep. It could have been. It was almost as if Nicholai showed some restraint.
Umbriel couldn’t watch any longer. She walked off the porch, approaching Nicholai from behind. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping his body upright. His leg bled, his ribs were surely broken, and he’d given much of his life into destroying two weapons. He wouldn’t last. His body could not keep up with his mind. He didn’t even hear her quiet footsteps until she was right behind him.
“Nicholai.”
He turned. Like lightning, his arm came toward her, the dagger stained with Granite’s blood still clutched in his palm. Umbriel did not move. He caught her eyes. The blade stopped just before it met the skin on her neck.
“Nicholai,” she said again, pleading with the man through eyes that took every ounce of willpower to calm.
His arm quaked. She saw pain in him beyond the physical injuries he suffered. A small piece of the Time Father’s true self flickered to the surface of his pupils. Nicholai’s jaw clamped, a rasping sound of agony spilled a gush of saliva through his gritted teeth.
He suffered. He wanted to destroy her. His body wanted to know what it felt like to puncture her jugular with the blade. But a minuscule thread of sanity, which he gripped onto with broken bones, strengthened under the ethereal connection of Umbriel’s gaze. It would not last long.
Bermuda brought him down. The pair hit the cold cobblestone and wet fingers pried one of the darts from his exposed metal panel. The quartermaster jammed the tip of the needle into his neck, cringing when Nicholai’s dagger found a place in the meat of her shoulder.
His rapidly beating heart carried the vial’s liquid through his veins faster than it would have otherwise. Nicholai tried to push himself up, but the blade clattered to the ground and he gripped his side. It burned each time he inhaled. It radiated through his chest. The sting in his leg throbbed, but the effects of the sedation soothed the ache. Soon, he couldn’t feel his legs at all. Then, he felt nothing and collapsed.
Umbriel reached a hand up to the place on her neck where Nicholai almost gored her. There was no time to dwell. “Jernal.”
“On it.” The soldier strode over, securing Nicholai’s hands behind his back and cuffing them.
The Earth Mother knelt, her knee in a puddle of rain as she laid her hands on him. She was quick to restore his lost years, quicker to mend the torn flesh surrounding the gaping hole Bermuda left in his knee. Umbriel did what she could for the swelling tissue attached to his ribs, but there was nothing she could do for the broken bones. “Take him inside. Please.”
Jernal nodded, grunting as he threw Nicholai’s limp arm over his shoulder. He’d carried his fair share of fallen soldiers before; the effort was well within his skill set. As he dragged him back into the Addihein household, Umbriel kept her place on the ground, taking in a few bottomless breaths. She gave much of herself to Nicholai. She needed a moment to recover.
Bermuda slipped her blade back in her boot, sweeping her hands through her drenched hair. She tried to scrub away some of the blood from her temple with the water, but for every swipe of her fingers across the wound, more scarlet liquid escaped. “Brack, Penn, help me get the captain inside too.”
The men nodded, each taking up opposite sides of Kazuaki’s arms. It was an endeavor; not only had the rain weighed down the immortal’s long jacket, but he was several hundred pounds of muscle and dead weight.
Bermuda closed one of her eyes, the rainwater making a pathway for her blood to spill into her cornea. The body of Madros still laid on the earth. They couldn’t leave it there. Civilians waking up to witness the towering corpse of an unearthly creature would surely ignite a panic. “Granite ... I think you’re the only one who might be able to lift him.”
The man nodded, his dog running circles around him as he approached Madros’ carcass. The lesser god dwarfed even Granite in his mass. Though his stomach still leaked from the nip of Nicholai’s dagger, he reached down to seize the lesser god’s arm. It crumbled under his touch.
Granite’s eyes shifted into slits. He watched as the rest of the lesser god’s body collapsed into ash and smoke. The fierce downpour from the sky collected the dust into a puddle, where it dissolved into the pool of rainwater accumulating in the streets. Without a word, he seized the katars Kazuaki dropped earlier, relieved the endeavor of finding a place to bury the corpse of a massive creature was taken care of.
His long strides carried him over to Umbriel, who remained kneeling. He placed both katars in a single hand and extended his free one to her. “Need an assist?”
The silver-lavender strands of Umbriel’s wet hair clung to the sides of her face. She looked up, her eyes falling on Granite’s offering. “Thank you,” she said, accepting. After he helped her to her feet, she laid one hand on his torso, another on his arm, both places that had been ripped open by metal. In moments, the wounds were closed.
“Thanks,” Granite muttered, his voice dark but grateful.
Umbriel offered a weak smile. “Of course.”
By the time the two made it back into the Addihein household, the others had placed Nicholai in his bed. Jernal readjusted his shackles, choosing instead to chain one wrist to a bedpost. The other was secured to the opposite post with a metal chain.
“We’ll need to figure something else out when he wakes up,” Brack said, leaning against a wall. “He’ll just rust those chains the second he comes to.”
Umbriel felt an unnatural weight in her chest. Her heart was crushed seeing him like that, a prisoner in his own body, fettered to his bed like an unlawful beast. She turned away, unable to look at him, and walked into her room.
The unconscious Kazuaki occupied her bed. Bermuda sat in a chair she pulled up beside him, her head bowed as if she either lived in deep contemplation or a state of concussion.
“Bermuda,” Umbriel’s gentle voice swept into the quiet room. “Might I heal your head wound and your shoulder?”
The quartermaster’s eyes slid open as she lifted her head. She blinked, touching her temple once again. The blood was still warm. Still fresh on her fingers. “Yes,” she said, standing. “I nearly forgot about them.”
Umbriel took several steps toward her and reached out, regenerating the damages suffered by her flesh. Her arm fell loosely to her side when she finished. Flaccidity infected her muscles. Umbriel hoped she maintained enough energy to correct Brack’s split nose. After a large sigh that she hoped would bring much-needed oxygen into her lungs, Umbriel’s eyes fell to Kazuaki. “You two stay as long as you need.”
The quartermaster recognized the Earth Mother’s fatigue. She saw it frequently aboard the ship when the woman drew out the poison left in her heart by Mimir. “If you need to rest,” Bermuda started, “let me know. We can move him.”
“No, no,” Umbriel shook her head, holding up a hand. “It’s really all right.” She smiled. It was frail. “I’ll see to Brack. Get some rest.”
The Earth Mother slipped out the door and closed it gently behind her. Beads of sweat formed aroun
d her brow, her complexion pale, an accompanying clamminess glistening on her skin. She gave a large portion of herself away tonight, but walked up to Brack and raised a hand to correct the bridge of his nose.
The Rabbit held up his hands and took a step back, a reassuring grin on his face. He witnessed her fatigue. “Save your strength, love,” he said with a level of charming confidence. “I hear maidens are into blokes with scars, anyway.”
She knew his gesture stemmed only from kindness and concern, but Umbriel did not fight him. On the contrary, she was relieved. The woman offered him a smile and gave his arm a gentle squeeze before she crossed the distance over to where Nicholai laid. She sat on the edge of the bed, frowning.
He fought the lesser gods’ whispers off for a long time, but Umbriel knew he was a ticking time bomb. They were relentless. Even still, Kazuaki ran Madros through. The God of Revenge perished. She shook her head. “I just don’t understand. As soon as Madros’ life energy depleted, his hold over Nicholai should have turned to ashes with him.”
Mimir, who stood in the corner of Nicholai’s room with his arms crossed, lifted his chin. “Hm?” He only gleaned some of what occurred, having holed up in the Time Father’s bedroom out of a need for safety. If any of the lesser gods would have sought revenge for his efforts in stealing the katars from the in-between, it would have been Madros.
He pushed his body off the wall and leaned over Nicholai’s unconscious form. The lesser god extended a finger and gave his body a poke in the ribs. By accident or cruel intention, none were certain. It was with some luck Nicholai remained unconscious and paralyzed, unable to feel the weight of the lesser god’s jab on his broken bones. Mimir leaned closer still, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the Time Father.
Umbriel watched him with caution, a skeptical look glued to her tired face. Jernal, Brack, Penn, and Granite shared in her suspicion, each throwing watchful eyes on the lesser god as he inspected Nicholai’s figure.
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 80