And no one cares.
At this point, a Defect has more sympathy than the Night Watchmen. They have become slaves of a war. A war in which they can’t even pick the side they want to fight on. These men and woman are sent to slaughter, night after night, so that the rest of our kind can live in oblivious peace.
I’d rather die. I’d rather bleed out, right here for all to see.
The woman’s monotonous voice, who broadcasts ninety-nine percent of the news to our kind, spreads like an airborne pathogen over the vast wave of people crowding the vendors in City Square. She’s dishing out a list of members within the Coven who are being summoned to the city, which transmits throughout our nation on a special channel only Primevals receive. The bottom of the screen reports the names of the growing number of Watchmen who have either perished or been taken by the hands of the Darkyn Coven.
Things are rapidly growing worse.
And still, life carries on as if it weren’t.
Weldon looks back at me from just inside the shadow we’re standing in. “This is as close as I could get us.” We’re standing next to a tree that’s about two hundred meters away from the Military Compound. “Once we step out of the shadow, we’ll be on Clara’s territory. We have to get in and get out.”
“I know,” I whisper back, watching the countless men and women walking past.
“No matter what, we head straight for the general’s room. Sprint for the compound. If anything happens and we’re split up, meet on the rooftop? Okay?”
I nod, ignoring the fact that my heart’s bouncing all around my ribcage, and shut off my emotions. It’s time for business, and this is the only way I can guarantee I won’t make a mistake due to my heart thinking for my brain. I reach behind me, pull out a flux for each of us, and hand him one.
He takes it, inhales and exhales, and then says, “Here goes nothing.”
The moment his foot crosses into Ethryeal City, a high-pitched alarm sounds from somewhere above the Courthouse. Dread slams into me.
They warded the entire city against us.
Elites storm out from every corner of the city with rifles pressed against their chests. Weldon grabs my hand and pulls me in a full-on sprint, leaving no chance of turning back. I feel the cloaking spell flickering in and out as Elite Witches cast counter spells meant to drop any kind of camouflage.
Jaxen’s terror bleeds into me, sending a sickening chill down my back. The earth could swallow me whole right here and now. It should, because that would probably be an easier death than what Clara could invent for me.
“Turn back!” Jaxen orders, but his words falter. His command is empty.
He already knows. He knows, because he knows what he’d do. I’m not coming back. Not until I’ve done what I came to do.
My heart’s pounding harder than it ever has before as I focus on my breathing, pushing the oxygen to my muscles so I can keep up with Weldon. He’s dodging and weaving through the passing Primevals. I try to keep his pace, shutting everything out except for the mission.
“There they are!” I hear someone shout behind us.
“It’s the Everlasting!” another person shouts.
Screams erupt and spread like wildfire as the Elites nearby try to close in on us. Red dots flash across Weldon’s back in a deadly dance.
A sniper, trying to secure a shot.
Horror and fear grasp a hold of my limbs like sticky fingers trying to slow me down, but I shove it away. I can already feel the red ghosts sliding across my back, whispering words of an untimely death. Saying a quick spell to shield myself, I extend it out towards Weldon, praying that it’s enough to get us into the building.
Keep going, I tell myself, shutting out the fear and the screams, and all the thoughts scattering like crazed maniacs inside my brain.
I start zigzagging, yelling at Weldon to do the same as we approach the Military Compound. Citizens scatter under the orders of the Elites moving in on us. Some drop to the ground, covering their heads.
We aren’t going to make it. Not without a fight.
A gunshot goes off, and Weldon stumbles forward, trying to catch himself. Blood sprays out from his calf. Another goes off, and searing pain ignites the back of my arm.
“Faye!” Jaxen shouts in my mind. “Their bullets are spelled!”
There’s no time to think. No time to respond. Another and another and another sound off, coming from all angles, and like an instinct ingrained in me, I tug on all the energy around me, and then throw it back out as far and as wide as I can, knocking back the Elites closest to us.
Just enough to get us to the door.
Weldon throws his flux toward the Elite on the right. I’m a second behind him, aiming mine toward the Elite on the left. Both fluxes land in the center of their foreheads, leaving their bodies sliding down the glass of the entrance. We don’t stop to retrieve our weapons.
I don’t stop to mourn the fact that I just killed one of my own. Without blinking.
Once inside, the lady behind the desk scrambles backward, screaming as we move toward her and take station behind the steel desk. Eleven Elites storm down the stairs to the right. Another handful fill the hallway toward the elevator. I manifest two semi-automatic pistols from my backpack, handing one to Weldon when he looks over at me.
We’re on the same wavelength now, fighting like we’ve done countless times before in simulation after simulation. Words are spoken through our exchanged glances. He winces when he crawls over to the next desk and shoves it toward the one I’m behind, building our barricade.
“You have to get the bullets out, Faye,” Jaxen says as calmly as he can. Worry and fear are embedded in his tone.
“I know. I’ve got this. Don’t worry,” I say, willing him to believe me.
“Let me fix it,” I say to Weldon when he crawls back over to me. I hold my hand over his calf and say a quick healing spell, but it doesn’t work. He was shot with the very same bullet that’s on my necklace back with Jezi. It’s cursed, created to harm any and every foe that one of our own might stumble upon. Even demons.
“We have to get them out,” I say, pulling on his leg. I don’t waste any time waiting for his okay. I dig into the wound and, a second later, the bullet lands on the ground with a sharp, metal clink. “My turn,” I say, pushing my shoulder toward him. The bullet’s wedged deep in my flesh, but there’s no time for second thoughts. The stinging has disappeared, gone with the adrenaline now fueling my body.
He looks at me, a little unsure, and then grabs my shoulder tightly, bracing me as he plunges his fingers through the hole. My teeth grind together as I see white.
“Almost got it,” he says.
“Breathe,” Jaxen tells me, and I can almost feel him next to me, caressing the side of my face, but I’m trying not to focus on the searing pain surging through my body with Weldon’s every movement.
“Got it!” he says, pulling it out.
I suck in a large breath of air just as the safeties are released on every gun in the room, breaking the sound of the rushed footsteps padding our way. I sense the amount of lead about to be released into the air, almost taste its metallic tang. Weldon loads his gun and takes aim. I do the same, peering around the corner of the desk.
General Tillman steps forward, and I’m pretty sure my lungs have frozen solid. My heart bursts into flames. I turn back around, pressing my back against the backside of the desk. Of course it’d be him.
“Tell Weldon to find a shadow and leave, Faye. You’re going to get yourself killed,” Jaxen says.
I don’t reply. My heart and my mind are playing a game of tug-of-war, and it’s my mind that’s going to win.
“I don’t believe it,” Tillman says from the other side of the desk. “Clara said it’d only be a matter of time until you showed up. I have to admit, I didn’t believe her. I mean, who in their right mind would return to their death?”
“If you think that’s why we’ve returned, then maybe you should have your
head checked,” Weldon spouts off.
I peer back around the corner. Tillman’s a few feet away from the desk. Unarmed. “Surrender now and come with us, and no one will be harmed,” he says sharply.
I turn back to look at Weldon.
“Harmed?” Weldon barks out on the edge of suppressed laughter. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be declaring that?” Blood still pumps from his calf, smoke rising from his flesh.
“Don’t push me,” Tillman says, impatience dangling from the edges of his tone.
Weldon looks over at me and rolls his eyes. He turns back to the edge of the desk and shouts out, “And where’s this place you want to take us?” in his best serious voice.
I’m trying to figure out how he could possibly make jokes. How he could possibly think this is funny, when there are so many men in this room that are dangerously close to losing their lives… because of me.
“Clara has summoned your presence.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to pass,” Weldon says snidely.
“And why is that?” Tillman asks, stepping closer to the desk.
“Because, despite the fact that I’m incredibly strong and swift, I’m a highly superstitious person, Dullman. And one of my many, very unfortunate superstitions involves your conniving High Priestess. I can only see Clara when I’m wearing my blue underwear, and today, I chose red. So you see, it can’t happen, or I’ll be jinxed.”
No one laughs except Weldon, and the sound is uncomfortably brittle.
I drop my head and squeeze my eyes shut, not knowing if I want to laugh or scream at him. He’s the only person I’ve ever met that makes me feel such contradicting emotions at the exact same time.
Tillman’s tone is solidly neutral when he finally speaks. Almost pleasantly even. He could be granting us safe passage with the ease and comfort at which he delivers his next sentence with a steady smile. “We’ve been given the go ahead to secure your presence however necessary. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Faye, I’m serious. You both need to leave,” Jaxen says sharply.
“Jaxen, I know you’re worried, but I need you to trust me, okay? I can handle this.”
He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t leave my mind either, and I’m grateful for his trust.
Tillman and Weldon are still bantering, but I tune them out, closing my eyes. I inhale deeply. One by one, the energy of everyone in the room forms in front of me, just waiting to be harvested. I zero in on Tillman and the five men he brought with him. With one hard, swift tug, I bring them to their knees.
I open my eyes and, slowly, I stand. Every gun in the room focuses on me.
“Faye, no!” Jaxen says.
“This is what’s going to happen,” I say, squeezing my fist, which makes a loud cry erupt from every Elite under my grip. “You’re going to hold your fire and let us pass.”
Weldon stands up next to me, unsteady at first.
“Neve—” Tillman tries to mutter out, but I squeeze harder and he falls flat against his face, unable to mutter another word.
“If you don’t let us pass, you will all end up like him.” I connect eyes with as many Elites as I can, ensuring that they hear my threat through and through.
They don’t lower their weapons. They’re brainwashed. They’re warped, seeing me as an enemy. Seeing me as a threat.
And maybe I am.
Weldon’s head jerks to the window. “Faye, we have to move. Hundreds are approaching outside,” he says under his breath.
It only takes me a split-second to decide what needs to happen next. There’s no time for second-guessing. No time to question what’s wrong or what’s right. Without an apology, I grab a hold of all the energy around me and tug hard, smiling as their power slams into me and levels them.
Every Elite in sight falls face-first against the ground, unconscious. Weldon doesn’t waste a second. “Let’s go,” he says, moving around the desk. He’s hopping over bodies, searching for ground to step on. “Did you kill them?” he asks, looking me right in the eye.
Shock slams against my skull. “No. Just knocked them out.”
“Good.”
We reach the glass elevator as the Elites from outside storm through the entrance. Weldon’s face pales a little as he presses the button. The metal doors slide open and we rush in, pressing the button for the third floor. Sterling’s floor. Bullets race through the air in our direction, all trying to get ahead of the other. All seeking a body to penetrate.
“Faye, use your magic. Don’t just rely on your Hunter skills. Magic can transform anything,” Jezi says through our connection. Her voice almost startles me.
“I tried using magic. The shield didn’t work.”
“Magic isn’t just for shields. You have to be smarter than their spells. Think defense, not offense,” she says. “We’re Witches, Faye. We make water from thin air. We turn toads into princes.”
Weldon grabs my arm and shakes me one good time. “Are you listening? The bodies will stall them long enough to get us to his room,” he says, pulling the bag from my shoulders. He digs through the contents, loading up on guns and fluxes. “Once on the floor, we make two rights and a left, okay?”
I nod. Bullets pierce through the glass, shattering it. We both drop and cover our heads. Jezi’s words crowd every open space in my mind, almost as if she’s really here. Toads into princes, I think to myself, and in a flash of a second, I say a spell, turning the glass into tiny butterflies and the bullets into flies.
“Quick thinking. I like it,” Weldon says, throwing me a swift smile before spitting off a fly that had landed on the outside of his lips.
“Thanks.” I’m surprised by how calm my voice sounds. How in control I am despite the small shudders of panic pulsing in the depths of me.
An ear-piercing alarm rings through the air. The elevator stops, the lights switch off, and emergency lighting flashes in and out. The robotic woman’s voice pelts out through the small speakers. “All Coven members, please exit the building at this time. This is not a drill. An armed threat has breached the parameters. Please find the nearest exit and proceed with caution.” There’s a short pause, and then the alarm resumes. “All Coven members…”
“We stop for nothing,” Weldon shouts over the alarm, his face coming in and out with the vanishing light. He stands and points to the service hatch. I send a small blast of magic up, knocking it open. He smiles at me, and then continues, “Take out any in the way by whatever means necessary. Clara has to be close by now.”
“If I see her, I’m taking her out,” I say, gripping my flux as he braces my waist to lift me up.
“No,” he says firmly, piercing me with his sharp, golden gaze. “We need her alive. She knows the whereabouts of your parents and Claire.”
His truth is like the searing side of a pan pressed against my face. It’s like having my hands, my feet, my face, and my heart submerged in fiery coals.
I exhale forcefully. Bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from cursing.
The force in his eyes dissolves. “I know,” he says, reading me so well. “It pisses me off too.” He grips my waist again, and then lifts me into the air. I plant my hands firmly around the edges of the small hole and push up, pulling myself through. When I’m lying flat against the top of the elevator, I extend my hand to him. He grabs my bag and takes my hand. I pull him up, using every last ounce of strength. I call on my volation, but there’s nothing to pull from. Nothing but Weldon’s energy, and we can’t afford that right now.
“Use your volation,” he says on a groan, dangling halfway in the air.
“Can’t,” I strain out. “They did something to the air.” I feel the fibers in my muscles stretching past their limits and, still, I pull.
“Use your magic, Faye,” Jezi whispers in the back of my mind.
Right. Magic.
With one last, deep inhale, I spell him to be as light as a feather and lift, pulling him the rest of the way
up.
He rolls onto his back. “You’re getting better with the spells.”
“It’s not my go-to, but it does make it easier. Thank, Jezi.”
He looks at me funny, and then says, “Oh, right. The connection.” He points to my forehead. “Jaxen in there too?”
I nod and he grins, making kissy faces near my eyeballs.
I shove him back. “Knock it off,” I say, laughing despite not wanting to. The heaters have flicked on in my cheeks.
“Oh, look, there you go, getting all embarrassed on me again,” he says, chuckling to himself as he stands. He offers me a hand. “Ready?”
I nod, and then he turns for the makeshift ladder.
“Good thing our floor is right above us.” He climbs the three steps, and then makes quick work of pulling apart the metal doors of the elevator to the third floor. By the time I’m beside him, he slides the doors all the way open. Two Elites are aimed at Weldon. He ducks and rams one, while I aim for the other, my flux striking him in the thigh. The Elite slams back against the wall, aiming for me, but I’m quicker, and tug on his energy hard enough to knock him out.
Weldon stands from the other Elite he punched to sleep. “Let’s go.”
We head down the hallway that flashes in and out under the emergency lighting and make our first right. Immediately, we notice something off. There are no Elites. Not a single soul nearby. We take the other right and head down the long stretch of hallway, passing room after room, which were the same rooms I was placed in to be studied. To be tortured.
We’re feet away from the left turn when I make my first mistake. I look into the viewing window to one of the rooms.
Long, brown hair is splayed out against a cold, metal table. High-pitched screams that I’ve only ever heard once before—the night the Werewolves attacked all the novices in the Enchanted Forest during the Trial back at the Academy.
The head on the table turns toward the window, almost as if she knew I was there, and the pink scar clawed across her face nearly drops me to my knees.
“Katie?”
NO.
My insides slam against the side of my body from the impact of this realization. My guts shred into nothing. I can’t catch a breath. Not a single one. I’m not sure I ever even knew how to breathe as my lungs wheeze, fighting for air.
Everlost (The Night Watchmen Series Book 3) Page 7