Shadows of Divinity

by Luke Mitchell

  I swallowed, my stomach sinking at the unanswerable questions I expected to follow.

  Instead, Elise continued on as if the whole terrorist thing wasn’t worth concern. “He’s heard all kinds of stories. He used to tell me tales about the Shapers, and the, uh… Em-yoos… Em-yute… Agh, it was something…”

  “The Emmútari,” I offered.

  “That’s the one. He was fascinated by them. Used to talk about ‘em a lot.” She shrugged. “I guess I was fascinated too. I’m not surprised he wanted to help Carlisle with… whatever this thing is that you’re all doing.”

  She looked away abruptly, her jaw quivering.

  I cringed, realizing her casual comment about us being terrorists had been anything but. This situation was taking a toll on her. Not that I could blame her one damn bit for that.

  When she turned back to me, her eyes were wet and imploring.

  “I’m scared, Hal.” Her voice was quiet, desperate. “And not just because you could have died the other night. The only other people I really care about in this world are all caught up in this thing, too. And meanwhile, everyone just expects me to sit quietly in the corner and… and do what, exactly? Pray that you won’t all be dead next cycle? Grop that.”

  Her tears were spilling over now.

  I watched the clear rivulets flow, working my mouth noiselessly, praying for the words to defuse the situation. I wasn’t sure they existed. So instead I reached out to take her hand.

  “I deserve to know,” she said quietly.

  Seeing her crying, so clearly in pain, I felt the aching tug of my own phantom tears. I couldn’t stand it anymore. She was right, and I wanted nothing but to explain to her what was happening. But I couldn’t say the words.

  So I closed my eyes and thought them instead.

  “It’s the raknoth, Elise. We’re trying to stop a bunch of demonic parasites from destroying Enochia because we’re the only ones who can!”

  It was a cowardly move on my part, and I hated myself for it.

  I knew she couldn’t hear me. My message wouldn’t make it to her, and some scuddy part of me would still get to feel like I’d tried somehow—like I wasn’t just going to stand there and watch her cry her eyes out over an undeniably scuddy deal. Despicable.

  Only she wasn’t crying her eyes out when I opened mine again.

  She was just gaping at me, eyes wide.

  “What…” She took a step back, holding a hand out as if to keep me at bay.

  It wasn’t possible.

  She took a sharp inhale to clear her runny nose. “What in demon’s depths was that? What’s a raknoth?”

  It just wasn’t possible. And yet she’d clearly heard the telepathic message she had no way of hearing.

  Alpha only knows whether she caught the next one.

  “Oh, scud.”

  25

  Fire and Ice

  Carlisle and I trudged the streets of Divinity in pouring rain, watching the shadows for unfriendly eyes.

  “It was reckless,” he sent, not pausing ahead or even looking my way.

  I wasn’t quite sure if he was referring to my actions over the past hour, or to Franco’s. Probably both.

  “She wasn’t supposed to hear,” I sent back. “It was only supposed to…”

  It didn’t matter now. The damage was done.

  “Let this be a lesson on all reasoning that begins with ‘supposed to’.”

  I scowled at a puddle underfoot, fighting the temptation to argue.

  “How is it possible she heard my thoughts?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “She’s gifted?”

  He walked on silently ahead.

  “Did you know?”

  There was a shift in him, something like the equivalent of a mental sigh. “No. Franco has never allowed me to test her for any latent ability. But it was a possibility I might have been wise to inform you of. It might have even played some intangible hand in the… affinity you so quickly felt for one another.”

  “But why suspect it was a possibility at all?”

  “Elise’s mother, Liandra. She was a Shaper.”

  For some reason, the answer didn’t really surprise me. Not as much as the implications, at least.

  “But my parents…”

  “The gift is not always passed directly. It might skip generations. It might not even be hereditary, for all we know. But there’s a reason Elise has been wearing a cloaking pendant since Liandra died.”

  “I hadn’t realized she—Wait…”

  Something had clicked in my mind. Something Carlisle had said about Franco’s wife losing her life mixed up in business like ours. And twelve years ago. That’s when Elise said her mom had passed. Twelve years.

  The same twelve years since Carlisle had seen seventeen Shapers slaughtered at the hands of the raknoth?

  “Was… Did you know her before? Liandra?”

  This time, Carlisle did stop. He pulled into the shadows of an alleyway and waited for me to catch up, face buried beneath his hand in what could’ve been exasperation—or overwhelming sorrow.

  “Now is not the time to discuss this, Haldin. Suffice it to say that Elise was not the one I originally crafted that cloaking pendant for. After Liandra… was taken, I gave it to Franco, delivered the news, explained what pieces he didn’t already know. He was devastated, of course. But he took the pendant and told Elise that it had been her mother’s and that she must wear it at all times so that Liandra could always watch over her. It was enough. He never wanted to know if she possessed the gifts that had been the death of her mother.”

  It was a lot to process.

  I tried to picture whether Elise had been wearing her pendant tonight when my thoughts had slipped. She must not have been. But why? What had motivated her to remove it after all these years, tonight of all nights?

  I thought of the stone flower and her questions about Shaping. Of her tears, and her talk of her family.

  “I take it Elise doesn’t know any of this?”

  “I’m not sure what Franco’s told her. She clearly has some inkling of the existence of Shaping, but I’d not be surprised if Franco had kept the rest hidden.”

  No. I wouldn’t be either.

  Since we’d left Franco’s, I’d been trying to understand exactly how in Alpha’s good graces things had unraveled as spectacularly and rapidly as they had. Suddenly, though, it all made a lot more sense.

  The man had come completely unhinged when he’d realized what I’d let slip to Elise. I’d never forget the dark look on Franco’s face when he’d thrown open the door and stormed into my room, growling accusations.

  I’d tried to apologize. Tried to explain that it had been an accident and that it turned out Elise had an incredible gift. Of course, knowing what I knew now, his subsequent explosion was a bit less mystifying. He’d even taken a few swipes at me.

  Now, I kind of wished I would have let one of them land. Maybe it would have helped him get his head on straight. Maybe I even deserved it. I wasn’t sure anymore. But when Elise had come running, defending me, yelling at him to stop… that had been the final straw.

  Franco had screamed at me to get out. I’d tried to talk reason into him—to remind him of the raknoth and ask him what any of this would matter if we didn’t stop them. Then the furniture-throwing had started, and Carlisle had appeared to tell Franco we’d simply go back to our hideout for the time being.

  Too bad we’d left our skimmer waiting a couple miles away in Carlisle’s underground lot.

  It wasn’t exactly a smart idea for the two of us to be wandering the streets of Divinity. In fact, given our brands as wanted terrorists, it was plain stupid. But at least it was dark, and the pouring rain had cleared most of the usual foot traffic out of the streets tonight.

  So, hoods up and heads down, we trudged on.

  I didn’t know what our next move was—how long it might be until I saw Elise again, when and where our next shot at the
raknoth might come. The persistent rain didn’t help my spirits, either.

  I hastened to catch up to Carlisle in the yellow glow of the streetlights and the pale blue of the various displays that plastered the building sides and rained their own downpour of advertisements on the few pedestrians who skittered about trying in futility to keep their heads dry.

  “I’m sorry,” I sent as I drew up beside Carlisle. “I should have been more careful.”

  “I won’t argue there.” Another mental sigh. “But it’s not you I’m upset with. I understand what losing Liandra did to Franco, but the man has simply lost all reason where Elise is concerned. Trying to keep her safe from the truth was one thing at the start, maybe, but after everything we’ve learned? And wanting to keep her true nature hidden all the while? Bah.”

  “He’ll come around, right? He’s too smart to think he can just sit under his rock and hope the raknoth play nice.”

  Plus, he still had all the Vantage data. I had a feeling Carlisle wouldn’t take no for an answer where that was concerned. None of us could afford to sit back and ignore what the raknoth were up to.

  “I trust he will. It’s just a question of how much time he needs and how much time we—Stop walking.”

  I almost didn’t register his words in time to slow down beside him as he drew up and pointed up at a big, bright ad display ahead of us. An ad display for some kind of feminine product.

  Something was wrong.

  I didn’t see anything, but I trusted his instincts just as much as my own, if not more.

  “Seekers,” he whispered in my mind.

  Cold fear clutched at my stomach.

  Then I saw it—a distortion in the air, maybe fifteen feet to our left, where the walkway lines and the falling raindrops subtly warped around what appeared to be empty space. The telltale sign of an optical shroud. And once I’d spotted it, I noticed another.

  Specters?

  I did my best not to react.

  Whoever it was, they had us caged against the building, holding perfectly still now, probably waiting to see if we’d actually noticed them or if Carlisle just had an odd fascination with women’s hygiene.

  “How many?”

  “Two Seekers, four guards. You focus on the guards.”

  Six on two, us unarmed?

  I tried to keep my expression neutral.

  I couldn’t see them, but the tension in the air was palpable now. We’d been paused for too long. Any second, they’d throw demons to the wind and jump us. We couldn’t wait for that.

  Carlisle was of a similar mind. “Close your eyes.”

  My last glimpse was of him raising a foot as if to stomp the ground. Then a violent white flash lit the darkness, nearly blinding even through my eyelids, and a gust of rain and air slapped my face on the tide of an odd, magnetic thrum that washed over me in a sea of tingles.

  Six forms had appeared in the street when I snapped my eyes open, most of them reeling from Carlisle’s flashbang, trying too late to cover their eyes. A few of their shrouds were still sputtering out.

  Where I’d expected the dark armor plates of the Specters, four wore the white and gold of the Sanctum Guard. It wasn’t hard to figure the other two were the Seekers, one in a dark gray long coat, the other—

  My stomach fell as I recognized the slick face and green canvas jacket.

  Smirks.

  Before I had time to dwell on it, Carlisle stepped forward and telekinetically hurled a thick hunk of ice he’d apparently conjured from the rain water at the two Seekers. Smirks shoved Gray Coat aside and dove the other way himself to avoid the projectile.

  No time to see what happened next.

  I charged the nearest of the Sanctum Guard, dialing my cloak out as I went. He was still squinting from Carlisle’s blast, but his rifle was shifting my direction.

  I gathered my strength and gave myself a telekinetic boost as I leapt, flipping in the air, and landed right behind him. In a smooth motion, the Guard dropped a hand from his gun, drew a knife, and jabbed it back at me, reverse-grip.

  He was quick. I was quicker.

  I caught his forearm. Kicked the back of his right knee, driving him down to the ground. I planted my knee against his knife arm and yanked. Bone cracked with a sickening sound. His scream turned my stomach, but I forced myself to grab the knife from his now-limp hand and drive a hard kick into the back of his helmet.

  He crumpled to the rain-soaked street, and my rising guilt was quickly snuffed by the sight of the three Sanctum Guard who now had a clear line of fire on me.

  I tucked into a diving roll to put the Seekers and Carlisle, who was somehow swatting aside Gray Coat’s fireballs with his bare hands, between myself and two of the soldiers.

  That left only the third Guard to worry about for the moment.

  I rolled back to my feet and chucked the knife at him. He deflected it with an armored forearm, but by the time he brought his rifle back to bear on me, I was nearly on him.

  Just not nearly enough as I felt his finger tighten on the trigger.

  Without thinking, I threw myself horizontal, legs first. The rifle barked. I twisted in the air and kicked, not entirely sure if I’d just been shot or not. My foot connected, then I slammed to the pavement with a grunt.

  The guard swore as something clattered to the pavement several feet away. He was reaching for his sidearm. I scurried back to my feet and kicked him in the armored chest as hard as I could, then I thrust a hand out and added a strong telekinetic shove to propel him straight into Smirks.

  My head and arms buzzed with the surge of channeled energy as the two men crashed to the ground amid growled curses. I scanned for the next threat, and my insides went cold.

  The other two Sanctum Guard were flanking their way around the Seekers’ brawl with Carlisle, and they’d have a clear line on me in about two seconds.

  Too much space between us. Not enough time.

  I needed cover. But there was none.

  They raised their rifles.

  I didn’t know what to do. I raised my hands helplessly, willing them to stop—willing it all to stop.

  They opened fire.

  The first slugs hit like rapid fire punches right into the center of my being—half a dozen in the blink of an eye, each one a small inferno. Only…

  I gaped, taking in the sight ahead.

  … Only the slugs hadn’t hit me. They hung motionless a few feet in front of my outstretched hands. And that fire pouring through me? Energy, I realized.

  I’d caught their slugs.

  The Sanctum Guard, who looked as shocked as I felt, recovered their wits and tensed behind their weapons, ready to fire again.

  I focused my will and let the absorbed energy go with a thrust of my palm and wordless cry. My telekinetic lance caught one of the men and sent him corkscrewing to the pavement. His partner stumbled in the wake but quickly recovered.

  Head swimming with the exertion, I reached out and telekinetically ripped the rifle from his hands. It caught on his back by the strap. I pulled more energy, steam rising around me now, and hurled the rifle down with enough force that the Sanctum Guard went with it, face smacking to the pavement.

  The other Guard was getting back up now. My vision was darkening. I reached out to slam him to the pavement with telekinesis anyway, and… nothing.

  Without warning, I’d lost him like someone had slipped a blindfold over my extended senses. I tried to reach out again. Couldn’t.

  And that’s when I realized I couldn’t move, either.

  “Got ya, you little scudder,” a voice growled in my head.

  My stomach fell through the floor.

  I threw myself behind my mental defenses, but it was too late. Smirks had me, and I could only watch helplessly as the Guard ahead regained his feet.

  At the edge of my vision, Carlisle slammed one of the Seekers to the ground. Apparently not Smirks, though, because I remained immobilized.

  The Guard took aim.

&n
bsp; To the left, Carlisle caught Smirks in the side of the head with a glowing, outstretched palm. The Seeker sagged into a motionless pile. Control returned.

  Too late.

  The rifle roared, and something punched into my side, frighteningly abrupt, as I dove.

  I hit the ground like a sack of bricks, stunned senseless. It took the pain a surprisingly long time to come. I swear I saw the blood first. It stained a wide swatch of my shirt, running thick from my sleeve down my hand to mix with the rain into thin, watery streams of pinkish-red that dribbled from my fingers to the pavement.

  Drip. Drip.

  “Hal!” Carlisle’s voice snapped me back to reality.

  And with it, the pain—sharp, fiery agony that blossomed in my right shoulder and screamed its way through the entire side of my body. I tried to focus

  After that, my account of the fight was hazy.

  The Guard who’d shot me tried to shoot Carlisle. Ended up shooting Gray Coat somehow thanks to a clever move on Carlisle’s part. Gray Coat died in wide-eyed surprise, a neat hole in his forehead.

  Carlisle extended a hand, the wrath of Alpha in his eyes, and the shooter rocketed into the building behind so hard that he might have died on impact.

  All threats accounted for, I laid my head on the rain-soaked pavement and closed my exhausted eyelids. In the aftermath of the fighting, the street was wonderfully silent, save for the steady patter of the rain. It was comfortable, in a way. Comfortable enough to sleep.

  Something slipped under my head. A hand.

  “Hal.” Carlisle, shaking me gently, his voice brimming with urgency. “Haldin? Hold on. I’m—” His attention snapped elsewhere. He raised a hand, and there was a smack and a groan from someone before he turned back to me. “I’m going to stop some of the bleeding.”

  Pain lanced through my side as he placed his hands to my right shoulder and arm and announced, unnecessarily, “This is going to hurt.”

  Searing heat pierced from his hands. I screamed.

  The pain doubled. Quadrupled.

  My scream outlived the air in my lungs.

  Then, just before I lost consciousness, Carlisle withdrew his hands, and the heat faded.