by Julie Kenner
Mal nodded, thinking of Christina. “Believe me. I know how you feel.”
Raine dropped the king back on the table. “Well, fuck.”
“Listen,” Mal said. Maybe it would be more prudent to wait, but he was going with his gut here, and his gut said that Raine needed some hope. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He never got the words out. Before he had a chance to say another word, Callie burst through the door.
“She’s gone! The front door is open, and Christina’s gone!”
Chapter 12
‡
Pain.
Burning, horrible, screaming, fire-breathing pain.
I have no idea where I am when I come to. I barely know my own name.
There is just the pain and the fear.
And the weapon rising inside me.
Oh fuck. Oh shit.
Instinctively, I try to run, but I’m strapped to some sort of pole. I struggle, but that only seems to make the bonds tighter.
I blink, trying to see, but the room is dark.
Then I realize it’s not dark, it’s just that my vision is gray, as if dulled by the pain that still fills me. Still grows. Still pushes the weapon up.
I’m in what looks to be a warehouse, only it is empty. There is only me, the little bald man who assaulted me, and two other men in dark jackets and unshaven faces.
I remember what Mal said during the briefing about how the fuerie recruit humans. Maybe there were no fuerie on Manhattan, but there sure as hell were some minions.
I try to focus on the bald man. “You don’t really work for Jackson, do you?” My voice is like gravel and so low that I doubt that he can even hear me.
“Stupid bitch.”
I take it back. He can hear me.
I am floating. The world turning inside out. Pain so potent I’m not longer sure it’s real.
“Knock her out again. They said she couldn’t wake up. Bad shit if she wakes up.”
It’s one of the unshaven men. He’s standing across the room. A room that looks like a checkerboard. It’s covered with a grid of wire and cable, and I seem to be right in the middle.
The focal point.
The center of attention.
Ground fucking zero.
“Now, dammit. Look at her. She’s starting to turn colors.”
Pain and power.
It’s rising.
Rising.
And the bald man is coming at me and he has a needle and he’s going to stick me with it and I cannot get away because I’m tied to a post.
And then he’s right there.
And the needle is against my flesh.
And I cry out for Mal. I scream his name.
Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm.
It echoes through this empty warehouse and is the last thing I hear before the world turns black.
*
The moment Callie burst into the lounge, Mal had turned numb, the world reduced to only two elements—action and revenge.
Raine had stood, but Mal had dismissed him with a look. “No,” he’d said. “I’m not risking both of you.”
Mal hadn’t stayed to argue. He knew that Liam would back him. He’d just pressed forward, mind and body on autopilot. Moving fast. Moving efficiently.
And thanking the goddamn universe that every time Christina was born into this world, he could sense her essence.
Only the most fundamental of thoughts went through his head:
She was close.
Gather the team.
Pull the weapons.
Find her.
Save her.
“No fuerie nearby,” Dante had confirmed. “Must have used humans to grab her.”
Mal hadn’t said anything. He’d continued to move, confident the team would follow, all except Raine and Callie. Raine, who was staying to keep him safe from the burn. Callie, who was staying because of inexperience.
They found the warehouse in less than twenty minutes. Fast. Efficient. Just like any other mission. At least until Liam put his hand on Mal’s shoulder. “We’ll get her.”
Mal only nodded. That much was a given, because not getting her simply wasn’t an option.
Liam had already turned his attention to the rest of the team. “We go in hot,” he said. “Cover Mal. Take out as many as you can. Stay alive as long as you can. But this mission can’t be pretty and we can’t take our time. Not when the clock is literally ticking.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Go.”
They went—and it was a goddamn clusterfuck. Bullets flying. Bodies falling. Jessica first, then Dante. And both Liam and Ash took hits, as did Mal, though the sting of the bullet in his shoulder was nothing when weighed against his fear.
In the end, they took out all the furies’ minions who had been guarding the warehouse. Then, with Liam and Ash in his wake, Mal burst inside, expecting to see another army of minions in the interior.
But there were no minions in the dilapidated warehouse. No warriors. No bad guys.
No one except Christina.
She was trapped in the center of a wire grid that was buzzing and humming with power. She was held fast like a fly in a web. Her body shook violently, pain filling her, and the weapon going hot.
A terror that he hadn’t experienced in centuries tore through Mal as he watched Christina’s skin burn a translucent yellow-red, like the image that remains after looking too long at the sun.
She was on fire—literally—a live weapon. A goddamn dangerous one.
And there was no fucking way he could get to her.
He was going to lose her.
“Christina!”
No response. No recognition.
All he saw on her face was pain.
Dear Christ, he was really going to lose her. And the whole goddamn universe on top of that.
Because this was it. This was the fuerie’s final play. Torture Christina. Release the weapon. Reform the fabric of the universe.
Game. Fucking. Over.
No.
Somehow, he was going to save her. They were going to save her.
The problem was how.
And the answer was power.
“We need to get this goddamn thing shut down, and fast,” he yelled to Ash.
“On it,” Ash called back, and he realized that both Liam and Ash had climbed up to the catwalk and were searching for a way to do that very thing.
“Where’s Dagny?” Mal called.
“Status unknown,” Liam said.
Mal cursed, hoping that she was outside. Hoping that she was thinking along the same lines and was looking for a way to cut the power.
Because the only way to get to Christina was to traverse the grid.
But that, of course, would kill him.
Under other circumstances that wouldn’t be a problem, as he’d just regenerate. But in this case, there was no time. Soon enough she’d reach the tipping point, and this would be all over.
“Mal…”
Relief swept over him as her thin voice reached out to him from across the cavernous space.
“I’m coming, lover. Just hold on. Baby, just hold on.”
“Can’t hold—hurts—so tired…”
He clenched his fists, willing himself to think, dammit, think. There had to be a way. There had to be something he was missing.
Even as the thought entered his mind, the building went dark.
Dagny! She’d shut off the power!
For an instant, relief flooded Mal, only to fade the moment he realized that the wire web was still hot.
“It’s on a different system.” Ash called down to Mal from the catwalk. “There’s got to be a separate power source for the grid, but I’m not seeing it.”
“Look harder,” Mal growled, even as he skirted along the edge of the web, looking for a power source extending across the floor.
“There!” Liam’s voice filled the space. He was on the catwalk, too, on the opposite side from Ash, and now he pointed down toward t
he web. Toward Christina.
“Oh, fuck,” Mal said. He hadn’t seen it before, but he should have. The power that fed the web came from thick cables that extended up through the concrete floor.
Goddammit, he should have brought Raine. Maybe he could have talked to the goddamn power source and convinced it to shut itself down.
But Raine was back at Number 36, and the only way to get to the cables was to traverse the grid—but if he did that, he’d die.
And fuck it all, he was going to do that anyway, because just a few feet away, Christina was vibrating with the force of the power building within her, and even the tips of her hair were beginning to glow red.
“Out of time! Out of time!” Mal shouted. “Ideas!”
“I’m shorting this fucker out,” Liam called back. “It’s got to have a secondary power source—they wouldn’t leave it unprotected—so it’ll kick back on even if I manage to short it out. But I should be able to buy you some time.”
“And I’ll buy you a little more,” Ash said. “I’ll jump as soon as it flickers back on. That gives you one outage to get across the web, and another to get her out of there and under control.”
“Malcolm!” Christina’s scream echoed around them.
“Now!” Mal shouted to Liam, who threw himself from the catwalk onto the grid, snapping some of the wires as he did so, then screaming in pain as his body writhed with the wild and violent voltage. Immediately the grid sparked and snapped—
—and fuck if Liam wasn’t right. The whole thing shut down for one goddamn precious moment.
Christina, however, didn’t shut down. She still sizzled and popped.
“It’s too late,” Ash called, as Mal raced toward her, leaping from square to square in the perverted chessboard of a floor that separated him from the woman he loved. “The weapon’s armed. Mal, shit, you’ll never pull it back.”
Mal knew damn well that Ash was probably right—but he really didn’t give a fuck. “Either way we’re dead,” he shouted back. “I’ve got to at least try.”
Ash didn’t answer. The grid had started to spark back on, and instead of speaking, he flung himself down, landing near Liam’s body in the middle of the grid, his neck snapping even as the grid fizzled and went dormant again.
Thank god.
And then—oh thank god—he was at her. But she was wild, on fire, and when he pulled her close, the heat of her burned his skin raw.
“Christina.” He held her against him, ignoring the pain as his clothes began to burn. He needed to hear her voice. But she was too far gone, and when the power grid surged back on beneath him, Mal cried out in fresh pain and horror, because he couldn’t survive this. He couldn’t—
And then it stopped, and he sucked in a breath as he realized that the web had shorted out once again, this time because of the phoenix fire rising around both Ash and Liam.
Mal saw it, acknowledged it, but didn’t think about it. All he could think about was Christina. All he could do was hold her, claim her, draw her in. Find her energy and pull it down, down, down.
Except it didn’t matter. Not this time. This wasn’t her energy, it was the weapon.
And it wasn’t just a tiny peek as it had been that night she’d erased part of the tat from his back. This was huge. This was the world. This was the fucking Big Bang, and he was absorbing it. Pulling it in. Letting his body take it. Letting his being support that power. Taking it. Taking everything he had to and more—because he could endure anything to get Christina back. Hadn’t he been enduring hell all these years for her?
How much worse could saving her be?
And then he felt the power inside him. Filling him. Drowning him. Controlling him. And oh god oh Christ how the hell was he supposed to tamp it down? Because now he was the weapon and it was going to all end soon.
He was the weapon, and there would be no coming back from this death.
No friends.
No life.
No love.
No Christina.
This was the end. And the end was horrible.
*
He is here he is here he is here.
The words fill my mind, fighting through the pain. Twining with this rising power. This explosive force.
It’s wild and intense and uncontrollable—and it is right here, about to burst free. Opening, opening…
And yet…
And yet I can’t let it win. I can’t let go.
I can’t give in to the pain and the fear and the horror. Not without trying. Not without clinging to him.
Not without trying to help him pull it down, down, down, just the way he taught me. Holding it in. Keeping it down. Giving him my strength the way he would give me his until the pounding slows and the heat begins to die and the rush that fills my head calms and I can breathe and—
Almost.
Almost.
The world that had been red and black starts to regain color. The wildness within me starts to recede.
Then we are floating. Moving. I realize as if in a dream that we are being carried, and I look up and see that Ash and Liam are holding us, moving us.
They put us gently on the floor away from the wire grid, and Jessica is kneeling over Mal, her hands on him, and his skin is glowing, the burns fading.
And his skin is clear. Just one tiny tat remains, a small phoenix that marks him as a member of the brotherhood.
That is when I realize. That is when I know.
We did it. We really did it.
We pulled it back.
Mal took the weapon. He drew in the energy. He absorbed the life force.
And he shut it down. With my strength to bolster him, he shut it down.
We survived.
And yet as my heavy eyelids droop, pulling me down into the sweet relief of sleep, I cannot hold back the one final thought that rattles in my mind: We survived, yes. But barely.
Chapter 13
‡
I awaken to find myself in a thin nightgown on an unfamiliar bed. I am still wrapped in Mal’s arms. He is smiling down at me, his eyes heavy as if he has just awakened, too.
“Where are we?”
He looks around. “Guest apartment in Number 36. Jessica and Liam use it sometimes. She’s probably keeping an eye on us. Making sure everything heals the way it’s supposed to.”
I nod, then sit up. I stay like that for a moment, and then I stand. I remember my last thoughts before I passed out at the warehouse, and I know what I need to say. I’m just not entirely sure how to say it.
There is a light tap on the door, and Mal calls out, “Come in.”
I expect Jessica, but it is Ash. “Thought I heard you two moving around. Need anything?”
I shake my head. Right now, I just need him to leave.
He glances at Mal, who is looking only at me.
“Where’s Jessica?” I ask.
“Busy with Dagny. Power grid was booby-trapped. Jessica’s got her set up in the den. She’ll be fine, but there are a lot of wounds to tend. I said I’d hang out for a while. Give Jessica a hand with whatever she needs.”
I nod, but say no more, and after a moment, he leaves.
I stay as I am for a moment, watching the closed door, remembering back to the way Ash had tried to kill me not so very long ago.
Full circle, I think, and then turn to face Mal.
“I love you,” I say.
I watch the pleasure on his face, and the way he adjusts to sit up in the bed, as if the words alone have given him strength.
“I love you,” I repeat, because the words are true and they no longer frighten me. “I’m sorry I haven’t said that before.”
“I’m glad to hear it now. But at the same time, I’m a little wary.”
I look at the floor. I should have known he would say something like that. Because doesn’t Mal always see through me?
“I can’t stay,” I say, because there is no point in dragging this out. “You taught me some control, and I’m sure I
could learn more. And god knows I enjoy the lessons. But it will never be enough. They used pain—real, horrible, violent pain—to shatter my control. To draw the weapon out. And they did, Mal. They did pull it out of me. If you hadn’t been there—if you’d been a few minutes later or if Liam and Ash hadn’t shut down the grid—”
I cut myself off, because the end of the world is too horrible to speak.
“We’re cursed, you and I,” I continue. “Star-crossed. But we’ve been so blessed to have the time that we have had together.”
“No.” It is just one word, but it is powerful.
I shake my head, fighting to keep steady. Fighting not to give in.
“Yes,” I say. “You have to let me go. It’s not forever, Mal. We know how this works. We’ll find each other again.”
“No,” he repeats. “Hell no.” He tosses the blanket aside and slides out of the bed. He is wearing a pair of black silk pajama bottoms that are so big around the waist that I assume they are Liam’s. “I swore to protect you.” He strides toward me. “To cherish you. And yet I repeatedly destroyed you.”
“You did what you had to do.”
“Bullshit. I took the easy path. Over and over and over.”
“Easy? If it was easy, then kill me now, Mal. Take your fire sword and thrust it through my heart.” I close the distance between us and stroke his cheek. Just touching him comforts me, but I force myself to remain focused. I have to do this. There is no other option. “Do you think I don’t know how hard it was for you? The sacrifice you made? Do you think I don’t realize how much easier I had it, me without my memories? With non-existence and then with no memory. A fresh life every time?”
I shake my head. “No, I understand pain, Mal.” I draw in a breath. “And that’s why I won’t ask you to do it again.”
“Thank god.”
“But I do have to die.”
I see the confusion in his eyes.
“I’m asking Ash,” I say, and then call out for the other man.
He must have been right outside the door, because he enters almost immediately.
“No,” Mal says to me, even as I say to Ash, “You were right.”
I glance at Mal. “He knows it, too. But he can’t do it.”
“Won’t do it,” Mal says. “And neither will you,” he says to Ash. “Or I will end you so many times you’ll wake up greeting the hollow.”