“Yeah, we will see.” Whatever. I didn’t have time to sit here and argue with him. I had to warn the Magister about what was happening, and I needed to get him to sign off on a sneak attack while we still had the chance.
If we had any hope of stopping the Four, we needed to act now…before the final riders joined the group and made themselves indestructible.
34. THE POWER OF THE FOUR
The rain pelted down against the windshield of Trace’s Mustang as we sped down the highway that would eventually take us to the border of Hollow Hills. After filling William in on what I had read in the book and his announcement that another Horsemen had joined the pack, we didn’t waste another minute discussing it. There was no time for hesitation or doubt. There wasn’t even time to make a proper plan. We were racing against the clock in the worst kind of way.
“So, what’s the plan when we get there?” asked Trace as he upshifted and then swerved into the passing lane.
“Apart from praying the fourth hasn’t joined them?” I asked rhetorically as I unsheathed my Sword of Angelus and prepared the rest of my weapons. “I go in for the jugular and you…wait in the car.”
Judging by the murderous glare in his eyes, I could tell that wasn’t going to fly with him.
“Okay, maybe not in the car, but you’re going to need to let me do this on my own. I’m protected. You’re not. All I need to do to stop the Power of Four is kill one of them—just one—but I won’t even be able to do that if I’m busy worrying about you.”
“Why would you be worried about me, though? I thought you didn’t give a shit about me,” he pointed out with absolute intent.
Nicely played, I thought to myself and then glared at him. “Because…it’s just…what I do. Look, don’t argue with me. We don’t even know what we’re dealing with yet or how strong they are—with or without their power.”
“Alright,” he said and then downshifted to get into the exit lane. “How about we make a deal? I’ll stand back and let you do what you do if you admit you have feelings for me.”
I turned and gaped at him. “I know you’re not serious right now.”
He shrugged. “It’s a good deal, you should take it,” he suggested, mischief lining his face with creases and smirks. “Honestly, I’m good either way. I’ve been itching for a fight lately and a Horseman sounds like a nice—”
“Oh, my god. You’re seriously deranged,” I said, not even joking.
He laughed, making both of his dimples pop at the same time. “So, what’s it gonna be?”
I gnashed my teeth together at the horrible rock and hard spot he’d just thrown me in between. “You really suck, you know that?”
“Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock—”
“And I seriously hate you right now,” I added as he continued to beam at me.
“Is that your final answer, Jemma Blackburn?” he asked, raising his eyebrows like a dare.
I gave him the middle finger salute and then gave in. “Fine. I have some feelings for you. Like, a tiny amount of feelings. Barely even noticeable really.” That was all the fucker was getting, and hopefully, it was enough to get him to stand back. With the Horsemen that is. No doubt he’ll be coming at me full speed ahead if I made it out of this tonight.
His gorgeous grin was stretched from ear to ear and looked damn near illegal. “Go on a date with me,” he said suddenly, his eyes brimming with intrigue and want and excitement.
“What? Right now?” I asked incredulously. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
“I meant this weekend—Friday night.” He bounced his eyes in my direction and I blushed as they eagerly soaked me up. “Let me take you out on a date.”
What an absurd request to make while we were barreling down the highway to square off against The Four Horsemen. “You do realize I could be dead by morning for all you know, right?”
His lip hiked up into his cheek on one side setting off his right dimple again. “You won’t be.”
I gave him a quizzical look. “And how would you know that?” I asked, skeptical but curious about why he was always sounded so sure of himself when he spoke about our future.
“Say yes and maybe I’ll tell you about it on our date.”
A spear of heat cut through my stomach as I thought about it. I couldn’t deny that the possibility of learning Trace’s secrets was definitely something worth trading for. Besides, how was I supposed to protect him if I didn’t know what kind of arsenal he had at his disposal. That was an unknown I wasn’t willing to risk.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
“Okay,” I agreed cautiously as a flash of lightening igniting the sky ahead of us. “If you promise to stay out of my way and we manage to see another tomorrow, I’ll go on a date with you. One date.”
That was all I needed to say to make his face light up like the Fourth of July. If the two of us had been in an actual war, it was clear the moment I agreed that Trace had definitely won that round.
The rain was still coming down hard by the time we reached the abandoned barn on the outskirt of town. The Council’s trackers had followed them here days ago and had confirmed that they had not moved since, however, no one had yet to venture inside the barn to see exactly what was going on in there.
For all I knew, they could have been opening a portal to Hell and were waiting patiently with an army of demons at their side. I mean, okay, it wasn’t likely, but it also wasn’t impossible.
“I don’t like this,” said Trace as he cut the engine and stared across the barren field. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “We’re parked fifty feet away from some abandoned barn that’s currently sheltering the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. I doubt any of this is going to feel right,” I pointed out.
“Yeah…but I still think I should cover you in there.”
I openly glared at him. “We had a deal, Trace!”
“We did, but you weren’t being completely honest with me, so I guess I wasn’t either.”
“Wow. What a lovely start to a friendship,” I grumbled and then slipped my sword inside my leather jacket.
“If shit goes bad in there, you’ll be glad you have me.” Something fierce and deadly flashed in his eyes and I couldn’t help but pay a little more attention. “I’m a Reaper, Jemma. I’ve been a trained killer since before I could date, and let’s not forget I have the ability to port us the fuck out of there if things start to go bad.”
Well, damn. When he put it that way, it definitely sounded like a smart move to have him by my side, especially if things got hairy. I supposed this was exactly why William insisted he come along for this.
“Okay, fine,” I said, giving in because let’s face, he was probably going to do what he wanted anyway. “We do this together, but if you so much as get looked at the wrong way, I want you to out of there.”
“Can’t stand the idea of me getting hurt, eh?” he teased and then flashed me a perfectly dimpled grin.
“Don’t push your luck,” I warned. “Or I’ll hurt you myself just to prove a point.”
He let out a throaty laugh that made my toes curls and then threw his door open and stepped out into the rain. Shaking my head at him, I quickly followed suit and then joined him to the back of the car where he popped his trunk and revealed a ridiculous arsenal of weapons, fighting knives and hunting daggers.
My eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. “Is that a V-42 Stiletto?” I asked and then snatched up the narrow double-edged carbon steel blade. I remembered practicing with a knife just like it back in the Lab but I’d yet to ever see one outside of that room. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Take it. It’s yours,” he said, staring down at me with so much more than interest or even intrigue. He was completely enamored with me, captivated by something only he could see, and it was pouring right out of his soul.
“Thank you,” I mumbled and then slipped the knife into my sleeve as I watc
hed him equip himself with everything from fighting knives to a freaking Desert Eagle pistol.
To say the guy was armed to the teeth was the understatement of the year.
He slammed the trunk shut and then turned to me; his hair dripping went from the downpour coming down all around on us, his eyes twinkling as they caught the light from the moon. “You ready to do this or what?”
“I’ve been ready,” I said and pretended to look at my watch. “Just waiting on you, Blue Eyes.”
His face lit up as he took me, and as per usual, I cowered under the intense scrutiny of his hungry, appreciative eyes. How strange it was that I had zero fear going up against four apocalyptic horsemen yet being ogled by Trace was something that reduced me to a useless pile of bones.
Thank you, stupid hormones.
Having reached the absolute limit of direct eye-contact I could stand, I whipped around and started trudging towards the barn, but Trace quickly reached out and grabbed my hand, yanking me right back to him.
“What are you—” My words died in my mouth as he cupped my face with both his hands and pressed his lips against mine, slow and deliberate at first and then hungry and fevered as the kiss went on under a blanket of stars and falling rain.
And the kiss most certainly went on. I’d been so stunned by the move that apparently all I could think to do in that moment was kiss him back, hard, and for way too long. It was as though my lips immediately recognized his—remembered when he was mine and I was his—and they came to life again amid the torrid rush of memories and stolen forevers.
He hissed under his breath and then broke off the kiss, his breathing coming out in short, labored bursts that matched my own perfectly. His eyebrows were drawn together as he stared down at my mouth with a frown like my lips had offended him. Like he was angry with them. For what, though, I had no actual idea.
“What the hell was that for?” I snapped at him, pretending to be appalled by the kiss even though I was openly devouring his mouth not even two seconds ago.
“I have no idea.” He pushed his hand through his sopping wet hair and shook his head, looking just as confused as I was. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Okay…that wasn’t really the answer I was expecting. I looked back at him for a second and could’ve sworn I saw remorse in his eyes, like he was deeply regretting the kiss.
As puzzling and outputting as it was, I didn’t have time to dissect it. This wasn’t the time or the place. So, I did what I always did. I shook it off and turned for the barn again, keeping my mind trained on the job I had to do.
Trace followed closely behind me this time, and neither one of us said anything until we reached the back of the structure. Once there, I picked up his hand and let him listen in on my thoughts.
I’ll take the front entrance. You slip in through the back and then make your way to the second floor. Stay hidden until I give you the signal, I ordered through my mind.
He quirked his brow and I knew he was asking me what the signal was.
Blood spilling, I answered easily, because what else would it be?
He nodded and then quickly stepped away from me before shuffling off to the back of the old tattered building. I glanced up at the rickety structure and pulled in a steadying breath. Honestly, it was a miracle the barn was even still standing with how degraded and lopsided the wood planks appeared. Knowing my luck, the whole thing would come crashing down on my head the minute I stepped inside.
I turned my attention back to Trace and watched as he turned the corner and disappeared behind the barn, and then I made my own way to the front. I moved as quietly as I could, doing my best to listen in for any noise or hushed voices but there was absolutely nothing but deafening silence coming from inside the building.
Something about it didn’t feel right, but it was too late to turn back now. Reaching the entrance, I pulled out my dagger and then threw the door open, hoping the element of surprise would be on my side.
My eyes immediately landed on the three muscled Horsemen staring down at me from atop their steeds—a white horse, a black horse, and a red horse—lined up perfectly beside each other, facing the barn entrance as if ready to ride out into battle at the first sign of the fourth.
I recognized each of them from the descriptions in the Sang Noir and knew them as Pestilence, Famine, and War, respectively. The pale rider, Death, was the only one still missing.
Pestilence’s gaze snapped to the weapon in my hand as he casually picked up his bow and arrow and aimed it at my head.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I warned him, tightening my grip around my sword.
“Any friend of Little Horn is an enemy of The Four,” he informed, his long blond hair falling several inches passed his shoulders.
“Yeah, I have no idea what that means.”
His face twisted with smug disgust, as though speaking to me were a waste of his time. “It means you should not have come here, sympathizer,” he said and then cranked the arrow all the way back.
Before Pestilence could release the arrow, Trace dropped from the second floor and knocked him clear off his horse. The two of them landed on the floor with a loud thump as the other horses reared back, riders and all.
Adrenaline pummeled through my body as I kicked off the ground and rushed forward to back up Trace but was immediately cut off by the raven-haired rider of the black horse, Famine.
His short, tussled waves hid his eyes as he punched through the air and grabbed my neck, wrapping his massive hand around the entirety of my throat and then squeezing. His grip was like a manacle that immediately cut the air flow to my lungs. My eyes widened at the same time as his, and then he did the strangest thing.
He released me and took a step back. “You’ve made a grave mistake coming here,” he said and then tried to reach for my hand—the one holding the Sword of Angelus. Talk about a grave mistake.
I yanked my arm back and then twisted the blade around through the air before plunging it into his abdomen in one swift move. His face contorted with rage, but he didn’t make a sound as he covered his wound with his hands and then dropped to his knees. That ought to teach him not to touch what didn’t belong to him.
My eyes snapped back to Trace. His body was pinned under Pestilence, but he was still somehow managing to land a few blows, though I had no idea if his hits were making any kind of a dent. The only thing I knew for sure was that there was blood everywhere, a lot of which appeared to be Trace’s.
Dammit! Why the hell didn’t he port out of here like I’d told him to?!
I kicked off the ground and barreled for him, making it all of two steps before someone grabbed my ankle and tripped me to the ground. My gaze swung back to Famine, to the strange pleading look in his eyes, and then to his hand twined around my ankle. I reared my leg back and kicked him square in the mouth before pushing off the ground again.
My heart slammed into my chest as I watched Pestilence raise his sword in the air with both hands, aiming it directly over Trace’s heart as he lay unconscious beneath him.
Something primal and savage took over me and I reacted. I grabbed the White Rider by his long blond hair and yanked his head back into my chest before swiping my blade clean across his neck. The moment was so fast, you wouldn’t have even noticed it unless you were paying close attention.
“NOOOO!” boomed the third Horsemen, War, as Pestilence’s lifeless body slumped to the ground beside Trace.
“Trace! Get up! You need to get out of here! NOW!” I yelled as a thick hand slammed down against my shoulder like a block of concrete and then hauled me backward through the air.
With adrenaline pumping through my body, I broke out of War’s iron grip and swung around before cracking my elbow into his nose and then bringing my sword back up between us.
“You need to listen to me!” roared War as he reached out and grabbed the sword right out of my hands.
Shock slammed into me as I stood there, disarmed and panting and
utterly confused as the sword lit up in his hand just as it did for me. How the hell had he been able to get the sword from me? And why was it lighting up for him when it only ever did that for me? Something was very, very wrong here.
Panicked, I took two giant steps back and pulled the Stiletto knife from my sleeve. It wasn’t as powerful as my sword, but it was damn better than having no weapon at all.
“Put you’re weapon down, Daughter of Hades. We aren’t here for you.”
My eyebrows knitted in confusion as my eyes dropped to my weapon—the weapon he’d taken from me. “Bullshit.”
He reached back and drew his own sword—a carbon copy of my Sword of Angelus. “We are the same as you,” he said, holding both glowing swords in each of his hands as if to offer proof, and then he calmly handed my own sword back to me. “We are here for Little Horn—the Son of Perdition.”
The son of what now?
I took my sword back with my free hand, though my other arm was still frozen in the air, mid-stab, as I tried to make sense of what this man-creature was telling me.
My focus bounced to Trace as he staggered back to his feet, having regained consciousness at some point during the scuffle. He hobbled across the barn until he was standing beside me, his own weapon drawn but also not doing much else.
“I don’t understand what’s going on. Who is the Son of Perdition?” I asked, my frenzied gaze ping-ponging from War to Famine and then back again.
He sheathed his weapon and then lifted his palms in the air to show me that he was completely unarmed. “Allow me to show you.”
I bounced a glance at Trace and then shrugged. I had no idea what he could possibly show me that would make any of this make a lick of sense, but what else did I have to lose at this point. If he wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it when he seized my weapon from me.
His auburn hair fell around his face as he took a step forward and then picked up my hand. “See what we see,” he commanded, and I gasped as my mind became inundated with a hundred different images all at once.
Incarnate: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Marked Saga Book 5) Page 28