The Scorned (The Permutation Archives Book 3)

by Kindra Sowder

  Screaming, he tried to pull away, but I refused to let go as the war waged around us. I felt his icy flesh give just a little and I knew I had severely hurt him, especially when the screams turned into agonized shrieks like a wounded animal. He stepped away from me. Cradling his hand, mighty fury stared out at me from behind his eyes. When he spoke, his voice deep and full of gravel, spittle flew from between his lips and ran down his chin.

  “You little bitch,” he yelled.

  He took a step toward me and then stopped as if frozen in place. A sharp whistle caught the air, slicing through it and piercing my one good ear with its shrill pitch.

  “Oh no, Valentine. This one’s mine.”

  That voice, one I recognized from years of exposure, slithered around the man like a snake and moved up my spine in a nauseating chill. I felt Julius still even though we weren’t touching, and he turned slowly to look at his brother.

  Steel gray eyes watched us carefully but were also filled with contempt and cunning. The need for revenge, even toward his flesh and blood that stood not even feet away from him. All because of me. Julius had lost his brother to King because of me.

  “Nero,” I spat through gritted teeth.

  The soldier he called Valentine slid out of the way, moving off to the side with his hand still cradled against his belly. Obvious pain on his face and in his posture.

  “Hi, Mila. I can’t exactly say it’s nice to see you again,” Nero shot back.

  Nero was dressed all in gray, long-sleeved shirt over cargo pants and boots. Much like we wore with the Paradigm. His ash brown hair fell over his eyes, but it didn’t seem to bother him. There was only one solitary weapon on his person. A long katana type weapon strapped to his back, clean and pristine like it had never been used. The handle was a crimson red, swirled with black and hints of white as if to symbolize something. It wasn’t lost on me. Cato’s purity was the white, taken over by the red of his living blood and the black of his dying blood. Anyone with half a mind could’ve figured it out.

  “The feeling’s mutual,” I retorted.

  Nero’s steel gaze slipped behind me to his brother, still frozen in place after seeing his brother again. So long after our crash into the freezing river, uncertain if he had lived through the impact or not.

  “Julius,” Nero stated with a curt nod toward his brother, not bothered by whether he replied or not. He looked back at me and continued, “Glad to see our little spy’s information was good. Famke’s intel was well worth the wait.”

  His enthusiasm for the cause of the carnage around us unnerved me, but I didn’t show it. All I could focus on was taking him and our traitorous red-head down, and then moving to King. His dark eyes flashed in my mind. I shook them away.

  “Don’t tell me you’re just going to stand there and taunt me, Nero,” I said.

  “I would never,” his voice slithered across my skin and I suppressed a shudder.

  A feminine cry came from behind me and, as soon as I turned around, Julius was face to face with Famke. She attempted to punch him, and he avoided it easily with grace. The last thing I saw was Julius putting his hand out toward me, acid eating the flesh in his hand. My face stung with the impact of an open palm and I stumbled back a few paces, stunned. My hand flew to my face, and I righted myself, looking up to see Nero in front of me with a look of triumph.

  “I just wanted my brother out of the way,” he stated as he flexed the hand he had undoubtedly just slapped me with.

  “You want me? You have me. Stop playing games,” I goaded. “Unless you’re not man enough.”

  I stood fully erect and pulled the rifle’s strap over my head, then dropped it to the ground. The gun holster with the handguns still tucked away inside of it followed, clunking to the ground – metal against metal. I turned my head from side to side. The vertebrae cracked in a couple of places, relieving some of the tension and giving me the flex I needed. Putting my hands up in front of my face with palms out and facing him, my eyes leveled at him, and a slow, deliberate grin of delight spread over his lips.

  “Someone been brushing up on their skills?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You like the feel of the kill after Cato? Is that why you learned?” he asked.

  I froze, and my mind began to wander toward Cato. I hadn’t liked killing him. Hated the feel of it. Hated the wrongness of it.

  Nero took that instant’s hesitation to lash out, reaching out to take my wrist in his hands. He turned me so my back would face his chest, pressed me up against him, and placed his forearm against my windpipe, efficiently cutting off my air supply without having to use his ability.

  “You liked killing him, and you know it. Just like you’ve loved taking the lives of those you’ve run into since you left the compound,” he said in my perfectly good left ear through gritted teeth.

  A few droplets of his saliva landed on my cheek.

  “You’ve got it all wrong, Nero,” I choked out. “I begged not to have to kill him, but…”

  The oxygen deprivation was too much. My vision began to blacken around the edges. I had to get out of this death grip or end up dead by Nero’s hand because he couldn’t see past his blind rage to take King’s orders.

  “But what?” he yelled. His grip slackened just enough for me to breathe and wiggle my fingers of my left hand between my throat and his arm.

  “But I am going to enjoy killing you,” I answered.

  Pulling my right arm forward, I jerked it back. My elbow made contact with his abdomen. His grip slackened even more, but he didn’t let go as he doubled over in pain with a grunt. I tightened my hand around his arm and turned forcibly out of his grasp, placing my other hand on his arm, and giving it a hard twist. He spun in the air and fell to the ground.

  With the litheness of a jungle cat, he was barely on the ground for an instant before he was on his feet again, coming toward me with enraged agility. Little did he know that I was much faster than I used to be and in much more control over my ability than I had been, even though it was still a work in progress. Something he didn’t need to know. He took a step toward me, and I took one back as his arm came out in a swinging arc, prepared to land a punch. I leaned opposite of the jab and ducked down, my arm jutting out to catch him in the ribs. My hit didn’t make contact. His hand came down and took my wrist again, pulling me in so he could hit me. My mouth erupted in the taste of iron and thick blood for the second time in minutes. I stumbled back as he let go of my arm, pride plain on his face. He thought he was winning, but I had my own arsenal.

  I pulled my power into my hand and reached out toward him, using my energy as a whip. There was a small flash of light, and a deep, oozing gash appeared on his cheek. He put his hand on the wound and pulled it back, becoming even more enraged at the sight of his blood. When he looked up at me, I almost felt the heat of his gaze burn right through me. His muscles rolled under his skin just like his brother’s, smooth and controlled like a predator. I projected my energy into his body, moving down to the cells and the atoms that made him a living human being. They began to rub together. My only aim now was to take him out with the same nuclear reaction encapsulated in a human casing like I had done others. Like I had done to Cato.

  The thought almost stopped me. He grunted and doubled over like I had hit him in the gut, but then stood up with his hand on his abdomen as if shielding himself. Nero sauntered toward me, taking each strike with a strength I didn’t think possible while I pushed every bit of power I had into him. His atoms continued to rub together, but it didn’t stop him. When even the tiniest bit of damage became evident, it would begin to heal, as if his power to steal oxygen from those around him helped partially shield him from my ability.

  Crying out, I felt my power leech out of me, barely able to hold myself up anymore as I pushed Nero’s limits. By the time he re
ached me, his back hunched and double over in pain, the damage had become evident in his skin. Blisters began to form as well as burnt portions eaten away by the heat created, lined in black and brittle edges. His lips were chapped — the skin chapped away — and the white of his eyes began to redden. Holes began to appear in the clothing on his back, leaving bare patches of bright pink flesh exposed. His energy ebbed and flowed around me, but couldn’t latch on.

  “Just die, Nero. Give up. It’s over for you,” I stated when he stood within inches of my outstretched hand. His chest almost touched my open palm.

  One of my knees nearly gave it — my muscles trembled with the effort — but I held strong. A smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, and his steel-gray eyes met mine, rimmed with red. Blood began to pool at his bottom lids and threatened to spill over.

  “Don’t count me out just yet, old friend,” he sneered.

  Swiftly, his hand came up, gripped my wrist, and pressed my open palm to his exposed chest before I had a chance to react. There was a loud snap in the air, and then a very familiar sensation took over my body. My lungs emptied, and my cells held just barely enough oxygen in them to keep me alive however long Nero wanted me to. Granted, he could infuse more if he wanted to drag it out, but I doubted that was what he had planned. I gasped to pull air into my lungs, but it refused to move down my throat and into the empty sacs. Not only had he stolen it from my body, but he had from the air around me as well. Before my eyes, his breaking body stitched itself back together, his insides showing in my mind while each cell healed. Then the image left me and my power came back to me in a flood. Black spots began to float around my vision, mixed with red.

  Nero brought his other hand back and then launched it forward. The hit landed at my left eye and sent me reeling backward. My feet left the ground for a few seconds, then I landed on the ground. Rolling to a stop, I coughed, and droplets of blood spattered the dirt. The whistle of a missile moved between us and when I scanned my surroundings, my lungs and my body burned.

  Agony. Burning agony was the only way I knew to describe what I felt.

  The projectile misplaced the air between us while he moved toward me, hell-bent on my destruction. He didn’t care what King’s orders were. There was no way he would be bringing me in alive. Not when it came to revenge. Only my death as his hands would suffice. Slowly, I pushed myself up from the ground even though I couldn’t breathe. I had to fight back. The odds weren’t in my favor at that point, but I had to. Not just for me anymore. For everyone.

  When I looked past him, everyone I had seen in my vision fought the soldiers, human and Special alike. Some fared better than others. Famke, our traitor, was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t matter. The damage had already been done.

  A shrill, feminine cry shattered the air from behind Nero. My mother, with a massive bladed weapon in hand and raised above her head, ran toward Nero’s back. Her face was twisted in blind rage, and animal ferocity, not a trace of her left as she came to defend me. Only the mother attempting to save her daughter from a grisly death. Nero registered the look on my face and swirled on his heel, catching my mother by the arms raised above her head. Head butting her, there was a loud crack, and then she dropped the weapon to the ground. Dirt shot into the air and then settled around it with a note of finality. A small rush of air moved into my body, but only enough to keep my standing and conscious so I could see what would happen next.

  Blood welled in the gash that appeared down the center of her forehead, then slithered down her nose like a crimson river. He moved his arm in an arc, a back-handed slap sending her sprawling to the ground in her dazed state. Then it was all too clear, the scene set just as perfectly as in my vision. My mother came to her knees before him, and I attempted to scream. Only a groaning sound came from my throat. I hunched over, the last bit of sound I made had used all the reserved he had seen fit to give me.

  Nero reached down and took her by the throat, her blonde hair plastered to her forehead in grit and blood. Without looking at me, he opened his mouth and then I watched it happen almost like it was in slow motion. Just like in my vision.

  Her lips blued and her body sagged in his grip. Only a final gasp left her. Then she was gone, an empty husk with no life left because Nero had taken it all from her.

  Her lifeless form dropped and crumpled to the ground as the battle continued to rage around us and still, I couldn’t scream. My vision swam as grief flooded through me, and I still had no idea what had come of my sister. Black and red spots splattered in my vision everything went black and then blinked back in brilliant hues just long enough for me to see Nero leer at me and begin to walk away.

  The hiss of another projectile coming our way moved through the air and oxygen snapped back into my lungs in just enough time for me to say one final thing to my traitorous friend.

  “I’ll kill you, Nero. I’ll fucking kill you!”

  Chapter

  TWENTY-THREE

  Tears streamed down my face. The last thing I saw was my mother’s body lying still on the ground, a stream of smoke, and a bright flash of light. The percussive wave caused by the missile sent me flying through the air, and then pain much more agonizing than anything I had ever experienced wracked my body.

  I cried out when my body hit something hard and unforgiving, my vision tinged in crimson and black as well as a heavenly white. All I knew at that moment was near nothingness filled with sorrow and soul-obliterating pain.

  Then everything went black, and I felt nothing.

  About the Author

  Kindra Sowder was born and raised in Rancho Palos Verdes, CA. At the age of 12 she moved with her grandparents to Spartanburg, SC where she graduated from high school with honors as well as a superior achievement in Spanish. She graduated college with two degrees in Criminal Neuropsychology. She still lives in South Carolina and lives with her husband and three cats. Two of her series have become bestsellers and she continues to write for the love of the craft.