Bridge: Bridge & Sword: Apocalypse (Bridge & Sword Series Book 7)

by JC Andrijeski

  The images faded at once.

  Jon opened his eyes, still panting.

  The sickness continued to nearly cripple his mind, blotting out rational thought. He was hard, but grief overwhelmed him, making it impossible to do anything but sit there, wanting to rip out any part of himself that could feel.

  Without meaning too, his eyes shifted to Wreg’s.

  The other seer wasn’t looking at him, though.

  Jon stared in disbelief when he took in Wreg’s face. He saw the pain standing out starkly in Wreg’s light, his nearly-black eyes focused on Allie’s naked body where it faced away from him. Those same eyes looked nearly glassed. Jon watched Wreg’s gaze run down the length of her, as if outside his control. Taking in the expression on the older seer’s face, an uncontrollable rage exploded out of Jon’s light, more intense than anything he’d felt in weeks.

  Maybe months. Maybe ever.

  Pain rose with that rage, a desire to hurt someone like nothing he’d ever felt, even the times he’d been jealous of Wreg before. He gripped the edges of the metal seat, maybe to keep himself in it––maybe to give his hands something to do so they wouldn’t wrap around the ex-Rebel’s tattooed neck.

  He wanted to fucking kill him.

  Forcing his eyes off the other man, Jon glared at Allie before he’d thought about whether that made any sense, either. Fury pulsed out of him, an anger he couldn’t remember ever feeling towards her. Seeing Wreg’s eyes shift to his, seeing the startled expression reflected there, Jon could only stare at the floor, then back at Allie, then at the floor again.

  It didn’t much matter. Allie wasn’t looking at him, either.

  And Jon wasn’t the only one who was angry.

  Revik stood there, panting, hands clenched in fists as he faced off with her. When his voice exploded out of him next, every seer in the room jumped, as if smacked with his light.

  “What the fuck was that?” he snarled at her.

  Allie’s eyes didn’t flinch. She stared at him, her mouth a hard line.

  “You’re threatening me?” Revik said, voice cold. “Really, wife?”

  Jon hadn’t heard Revik call her that in months. He hadn’t heard Revik call her that since they’d found her in that coma in Mom’s old bedroom.

  Whatever he called her, it didn’t seem to make any difference to her expression. She stared at him, her face utterly unmoving.

  “What if I did the same?” Revik said, his voice soft, but colder still.

  Her hand went up, palm facing out.

  She didn’t touch him, but something, some hard force shoved him backwards.

  Jon blinked, his jaw dropping as Revik stumbled, losing his balance enough that he nearly fell. He didn’t fall, though, and after he regained his balance he straightened back to his full height, staring at Allie in disbelief.

  She took two more steps into the room, her hands clenched in fists, just as his had been, and he backed away from her, as if she were some kind of dangerous animal, nearly stumbling again in his effort to give her enough room.

  Allie barely seemed to notice. She continued to glare at him, her eyes glowing sharper in the greater light of the main room, her expression still exuding that pale fury, even inside the more complex colors of those glowing green eyes.

  Jon watched her along with the rest of them, unmoving, barely breathing.

  She’d just used her telekinesis on Revik. She’d done it in front of all of them, as if they weren’t even there.

  Jon couldn’t think about that for long, either.

  More images slammed him out of that dark.

  Jon clamped his eyes shut but he couldn’t block them out that time, either. These images were more complex, less visceral, but somehow hit him harder, in that same bull’s-eye of vulnerable light, right in the middle of his chest.

  Jon saw flashes of her walking out of the Victorian house, leaving San Francisco, leaving Revik. Jon saw the rooms standing empty when Revik and the rest of them got back. He saw Wreg knocked out on the floor, Balidor, too. He saw her barefoot in the park, swimming in the ocean, riding in cars outside the quarantine zone, laughing with faceless people. He saw her traveling to other cities, alone, with others––

  Jon gasped again, feeling a stab of pain, that time off Revik.

  That pain worsened in the pause after the images faded, as the full extent of their meaning sank in.

  But Allie wasn’t finished.

  The images changed again. That time, Jon saw scenes from their wedding ceremony, in that vast dining room of the restaurant in Central Park.

  The pain in Jon’s chest sharpened more, bringing tears abruptly, shockingly, when it hit him what she was showing them. She was showing them those moments when they’d made vows to one another, in front of Tarsi and their Aunt Carol, the gods and Ancestors.

  “Fuck you,” Revik snarled. “That’s not relevant here. Not now.”

  The images faded abruptly to black.

  That time, when Jon looked at Allie, she was shaking. Jon thought at first she might be crying, or upset, but when he saw her face and the pulses coming off her light, all he could feel was fury. Dense, unbridled, unreasonable and totally irrational fury.

  “So those are my options?” Revik snapped. “You fuck other men, or you leave me?”

  She stomped her foot, hard, glaring at him.

  Again, images of Allie wearing armor flooded Jon’s mind, Allie sitting on the plane with him, Allie standing beside him on Fifth Avenue, holding––

  “No!” Revik snapped, stomping his own foot. “No, goddamn it! No!”

  She shoved at him with her light again, and he gasped, panting as he stared at her.

  Once again, Jon saw images of her in armor, images of her on the plane, on the helicopter after the plane, on the streets of––

  “Stop it!” Revik shouted. “Stop! Fuck, Alyson! I get the goddamned point…”

  Revik seemed at a loss that time, though.

  Even his voice sounded confused.

  His anger lost some of its punch, right before that pain in his light intensified, blending with those gold streamers of light until Jon could scarcely tell them apart, could scarcely make sense of what he was seeing.

  Revik’s face reflected grief, confusion, an overt frustration. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that profusion of feelings either, because eventually he looked away from her glowing green eyes, the almost complete lack of expression in her high-cheekboned face.

  Revik stared around at all of them, his jaw clenched, then back at Allie, before he finally looked at Balidor, then Wreg. Raising a hand to his forehead, he covered his eyes, standing there and staring at the floor under his fingers.

  “Why, Allie?” His voice sounded close to breaking. He swallowed, shaking his head without looking at her. “Gods. I’m trying to protect you.”

  She stomped her bare foot, gesturing at him angrily.

  “I know what we said––” he growled.

  Allie stomped her foot before he could go on. That time, instead of the hardwood, she stomped on the padded mat of the main floor, but it had roughly the same effect. Before he could say more, she cut him off by stomping again, gesturing another, more vehement “no” in the air with one pale hand.

  Jon saw Revik’s jaw harden more.

  “Allie. Wife…” he began. “Please. Let me do this. Please.”

  She gestured another no in the air.

  “Allie. Gaos di’lalente. I know you’re in charge––”

  She gestured yet another no, and he fell silent, at a loss.

  That spark of energy around Allie’s light flared out yet again, right before more images resumed. This time they were of Allie with other seers, seers Jon had seen in the bars here, seers who’d been recruited from the Lists––seers who would be less likely to say no than Balidor or Wreg might be, given their relationship to her, Revik, Jon and whoever else.

  Seers who would be more than happy to accept favors from the Bridge
, especially given what the Lao Hu had taught her about––

  “Stop it,” Revik snapped. His voice shook. “Alyson! I get the fucking message!”

  The images faded at once.

  There was a pause, then that first set of images resurfaced.

  This time, they had a softer quality to them.

  They were softer, but somehow more insistent, too––exuding a quiet intensity and determination Jon couldn’t help but feel, that couldn’t help but bring a less-conscious flare of hope. It felt so much like her that time. Jon felt her, irrefutably, even if she was still far away, even if it felt different from how he knew her before. Layers of meaning lived there, reassurance mixed with softer messages Jon couldn’t fully make sense of. He could only glimpse fragments, like puzzle pieces from several different puzzles scattered on a table.

  In the midst of that, he once again saw Allie in combat gear, wearing a black shirt and pants, holding Revik’s hand, her light entwined in his.

  Whatever the emotional undercurrent, Jon got the message, along with the others.

  Allie intended to come with them to New York.

  She would come with them, or she would make Revik regret it, and maybe make the rest of them regret it, too.

  Jon didn’t feel a lot of room for compromise.

  Hell, he didn’t feel any room for discussion.

  Another, denser pulse of pain left Revik’s light, strong enough that Jon flinched back from the other man, closing in spite of himself. His fingers clenched on his chest, but he didn’t look at Wreg that time, or Allie––or even at Revik himself.

  He stared at the floor until he heard Revik speak.

  That time, the Elaerian’s voice sounded tired. Defeat rang audibly in every syllable.

  “All right.” He rubbed his face, exhaling in a series of sharp clicks. “All right. I’ll make it happen. We’ll have to leave tomorrow. I need to make arrangements.”

  Jon looked up, startled, in spite of himself.

  It wasn’t Revik’s face that drew his eyes, however. It was Allie’s.

  She continued to stare at Revik, her green eyes sharp, commanding.

  “I know you’re in charge,” Revik snapped. “I said yes, didn’t I?”

  That sharper edge in her eyes dimmed, but only somewhat. After another pause, Revik shook his head again.

  “I won’t,” he said. “I promise I won’t. I vow it, okay? I’m not a fucking liar, despite what you keep saying…”

  He trailed, presumably because she interrupted him again. After another silence where they frowned at one another, he looked around the room at the others.

  “I am vowing to my wife that I won’t drug her and leave her behind,” he growled. “I am fucking vowing I will bring her to New York. All right? Is everyone clear on that?”

  The seers seated in metal folding chairs nodded to him nervously, gesturing affirmations even as they shifted uneasily, glancing at Allie. Jon saw smiles on a few faces, but even those looked more nervous than amused.

  They were still careful to hide those smiles from Revik, however.

  Another silence fell as Allie seemed to be speaking to him again.

  “We’ll leave tomorrow,” Revik repeated, his voice warning. “I need to make arrangements, change a few things. All right?”

  Allie folded her arms in front of her bare chest. Jon saw her let out what looked like a relieved exhale, right before a calmer look smoothed her expression, taking away that sharper bite he’d seen in her eyes and light.

  Revik exhaled too, clicking to himself softly.

  “Fine. I’m bringing Balidor, then,” he muttered, shaking his head. More than anything, he sounded tired now, almost as if he were thinking aloud. “…and Wreg. Fuck.” His frown deepened as he stared at the floor. “We should just pack up. There’s no reason to leave anyone here, if we’re doing it this way. We have to move inland, anyway.”

  Allie didn’t move, other than to watch Revik as he reacted in front of her.

  She didn’t change expression, but remained where she was, her light exuding a pale warmth Jon could almost feel, even from where he sat with the others.

  In any case, she seemed to know Revik was in planning mode again, no longer arguing with her but trying to figure out logistics.

  Jon stared between the two of them, still in shock at what he’d just witnessed.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes off Allie herself, not caring anymore how inappropriate it might be, considering how she looked, even with her long, dark hair covering a fair bit of her front torso. He couldn’t comprehend in any way the blank, yet totally present expressions he saw flickering through those jade-green eyes. She just stood there, completely unselfconsciously, not wearing a stitch of clothing.

  As Jon watched her, a faint, almost happy smile slowly warmed the edges of her lips.

  He supposed that made sense, too. She’d gotten what she wanted.

  Something in the expression reminded Jon briefly of Tarsi, although he couldn’t have said what that was either, not precisely.

  When Jon glanced at Revik next, he saw a kind of frustrated relief in his eyes, too, mixed with something like exasperation as he stared at his wife. As Allie continued to smile at him, however, Jon saw that relief slide back into a darker anger.

  “Now go put on some fucking clothes,” Revik growled. “Or I’m changing my goddamned mind… and locking you in the basement until I get back!”

  There was a silence.

  It didn’t occur to Jon until that exact moment that Allie hadn’t spoken a single word, not one since she’d come into the room, despite the intensity of her back and forth with Revik.

  Even so, and despite the faraway look that still lived in her green eyes as the silence stretched, she did the last thing Jon would have expected.

  She laughed.

  21

  SHAME

  REVIK LEANED BACK in the airplane seat, trying to get comfortable, mainly by rearranging his long legs in the space between his seat and the one in front of him.

  Nothing initially designed for human public transport ever fit him.

  Even so, he didn’t try to get up, not even to stretch his legs.

  The reason for that primarily lived with the dark head resting in his lap, as well as the pale arm that coiled around his thigh. That same arm squeezed him tighter as he shifted, then relaxed once Revik relaxed himself.

  Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to think about her, at least right at that precise moment. He found it almost impossible not to have some smattering of thoughts in the back of his mind about her, no matter what he was doing, but he at least tried to push it out of the forefront of his waking thoughts.

  For now, at least, he needed to give his mind a break––apart from how she figured into the new plan, anyway.

  Out of habit mostly, he sat at the back of the cabin.

  He didn’t know why he sat there, other than the fact that he usually walked around more, so the seat’s inability to recline usually didn’t bother him. He liked having his back to walls in general––old infiltrator’s habit, even apart from the war and some of the identities he’d adopted over the years.

  Still, he could have brought Allie with him to another part of the plane where both of them could have slept.

  He didn’t want to sleep, though.

  Conversely, he could have headed up to what had been the first class cabin, where he knew Wreg, Balidor, and Yumi sat, probably talking over details of the new plan, or even about Revik and Allie themselves, which he knew they did on occasion, too, although they tried to hide it from him.

  He wasn’t feeling particularly social either, though, not even in terms of strategy.

  He needed to talk to them again before the plane landed, but that could wait.

  For now, he just wanted the quiet of his own mind––or as quiet as it ever got nowadays, with the connections between himself, Jon, Maygar and Allie.

  Maybe because of those c
onnections, he found himself craving silence more these days, not less. He found himself wanting to be alone more often, too––or, more accurately, alone with just Allie, even if it meant an artificial physical barrier of one kind or another between the two of them and the rest of their strange quartet.

  Whatever the causes and connections, Revik already knew he wouldn’t sleep, even if he’d felt inclined to try.

  Anyway, Allie seemed to be okay where she was. Revik knew that probably influenced his decision as much as anything. He scarcely bothered to think about that fact consciously anymore, much less find fault with it.

  Running his fingers through the dark curls of her hair, he combed through tangles absently, feeling her light and body grow heavier against his when he began to massage her neck and shoulder with careful fingers. Without his willing it, his light reacted sharply to the increased warmth he felt off hers, especially when her fingers tightened on his skin through his pants, one hand curled around his thigh and the other his calf.

  He shoved that awareness away, but not before it began to affect his body, and not only by tensing his muscles.

  Also without his willing it, his mind shifted to the day before.

  Emotions still warred in him whenever he let memories touch the more conscious edges of his light. His chest hurt when he thought about her walking into that basement room without clothes, but he felt pain too, especially when he let his mind drift to their interactions when he caught up with her again upstairs.

  He couldn’t pretend any of it felt simple to him, not anymore––or that he had some black and white set of answers that made sense to his rational mind. Even less could he pretend to understand the more light-level reactions he had to her, the ones that always seemed to bypass rationality altogether.

  His mind toyed with those lines anyway.

  Looking down at her now, at her profile where her head rested on one arm that curled into a near triangle in his lap, he felt another pulse of that heat. Guilt accompanied the feeling, along with an uncomfortable shift of his eyes off her body––but the feeling didn’t really dissipate. He knew the others had been speculating as to what he’d been doing with her since she regained consciousness, but he couldn’t let himself think about that, either.