Descendants Series
Page 30
Morgan laughed, apparently amused at Aern’s stand against him, but their words were lost to me, because I had found the line we needed. There was more talk, a shuffling behind us, and Emily’s fingers twisted. Something was happening, she was trying to pull free, but I squeezed hard, crushing her hand in mine. “One minute,” I breathed, “one minute.”
There was a shattering of glass, another body falling, and time froze as I drew the ends together. I opened my eyes to find her. She glanced at me, unsure, and then the missing link was there, tied securely in that network of fibers, telling her what she could do. Suddenly, she was alive, eyes lit with shock, and something else, something foreign.
“No,” she roared, turning toward the others, and I came back to the scene, realized that Morgan had been ordering his men to fire, dropping Council and Division guards for sport as Aern watched, helpless. He was moving for Morgan, going in for attack, and Emily’s words were the only thing that brought him pause, caused both him and Morgan both to hesitate.
She stepped forward, suddenly too brave, and I caught her arm. Her eyes didn’t meet mine, but I could feel the tremor running through her. She needed to touch him, to lay hands on Morgan, and that was going to be impossible from where we were standing. Images flashed through my mind again, too many scenarios, all of them wrong. She needed a distraction, some way to reach him without coming to harm.
He knew what she could do. He would kill her.
My gaze flicked to Logan and he understood, saw what we had to have. When he moved my stomach twisted, a thrill of terror flooding through me. This was a mistake, it wouldn’t work. Logan threw his pistol down, striding toward the waiting group with a purpose that left none of them in doubt. For half an instant, I thought Morgan would simply order him shot, and I hoped it hit somewhere safe, somewhere he could recover. Instead, a bitter laugh rose through the room and Morgan said, “Ah, the traitor wants in the game.” His gaze met Aern’s with a depth of resentment and hatred I couldn’t fathom, and I suddenly remembered Logan’s place. He’d been meant to be Morgan’s protector, but Logan was Aern’s lifelong friend, most trusted ally. “Let’s make this slow,” Morgan said, and it was another promise, this time for Aern.
The crowd behind me swelled forward, unable to stay, to leave the gap that would keep them safe, and Morgan gestured toward three of his men. “Teach the treacherous dog a lesson.”
Emily moved and I moved with her, but Morgan’s gaze flicked to us, a dare. He had Logan and Aern, and he had guns on every single man in this room. I had given them an advantage, they could heal faster than most, but Morgan still had the upper hand, and losing this battle would not be the end of the game.
The three soldiers rushed Logan and he swung first, a powerful uppercut that knocked the closest man back a few steps. The second punched him in the ribs as the third dodged a cross, and Logan ducked, taking the smallest man in the side to throw him toward the crowd. They stumbled back, and he was suddenly one step closer to Morgan.
He was good.
I felt Emily beside me, holding her breath, both of us willing it to work, for Morgan to shift free of the group, to move out where she could find him. But he wasn’t a fool. He held the power, could sway anyone he touched. Anyone but us.
And Emily was the danger.
Morgan tapped a finger to his lips, speculating. “No,” he mused, “I don’t think I like this.” He glanced at his watch, back at the men. “I’ve really got things to do.” Logan took one more swing, knocking the last man down, and was another step closer to the crowd. His nose ran blood, but it wasn’t deep and the wound had already begun to heal. His chest rose and fell with a composure I didn’t feel, but his gaze met Morgan’s with the next words.
“You know what might be fun,” Morgan said, the tapping finger suddenly gesturing between Aern and Logan. He smiled, eyes connecting with Aern’s. “A much more pleasurable way to watch you die. Bring him.” He was going to use his sway, turn Logan. The men started grasping at Logan, unable to get a solid grip as he fought, and the man nearest Morgan lowered his pistol, shooting Logan in the thigh.
There was the sudden flash of a vision, the soldiers behind me rushing forward, an eruption of gunfire and death, and I screamed, “Enough.”
Logan’s struggling ceased, all eyes on me, the prophet.
“Now, Brianna,” Morgan said, “you’re taking the enjoyment right out of this.”
I moved a step forward and he held up a finger, warning me.
“Stop,” I pleaded.
He sighed. “Fine. The game is over.” His head jerked, indicating Emily, and said, “Bag the girl, kill the others.” A soldier stepped from behind him, a black head sock and restraints at the ready, and Aern jerked, twisting to go for him without thought. Another round fired and caught him close range, throwing his leg out from under him. He caught himself, half-up, and I launched my own body in front of Emily, her attempt nearly knocking me forward. If she went for Morgan too soon, she would die. We would all die. Without Emily, there was no one to stop the prophecy, no way to end the fire.
“No,” I said, “Morgan, if you—”
He held up a hand, voice calm, deadly. “No more threats, Brianna. I know the truth. There is only one way this ends.”
My eyes stayed on his, all of us hanging in the balance, and he only had two words. An order before he turned to walk away, wholly unconcerned with the carnage that would follow.
“Do it.”
A rush of men attacked, bodies and bullets suddenly filling the narrow space between the crowds, and I was hit, knocked out of the way by two men colliding. Emily’s form was struck mid-waist as one of Morgan’s men tried to lift her bodily. They were too fast, it was too unnatural, and I looked up to see Aern and Logan moving for Morgan.
They were the three most powerful men in the room, but when Morgan’s fighters converged, they took Aern and Logan with a strength that seemed wrong, relentless and unwavering. Logan’s elbow jerked as he twisted one man’s head, threw two more punches. He’d lost the use of his leg, but it was already healing, the repair surely sapping his strength. Aern had made it farther, closer to his brother, and Morgan stopped, turning to watch what surely would be the last attempt Aern ever made.
Wesley and the others fought beside us, tearing Emily free from Morgan’s men as she landed a blow or two of her own. She didn’t have her knives, unprepared as we were, but she wouldn’t need them for this. She would only need her hands.
My arms lifted almost of their own accord, and I was aware in the back of my mind that there were too many of us here, that everyone would know.
There would be no more secrets. But it didn’t matter now, it didn’t feel unsafe. It felt like the only option.
My only choice.
The air moved around me, slowly at first, and it gave the impression that time stood still. It grew, my gaze finding Logan, still fighting as several men tore him down, and Aern, both of them so close to our target, so close to Morgan. The debris of fighting, bullet casings and broken glass, scraps of nothing and everything, floated around me and the torrent rose, widening to brush against everything in its path.
Emily was the first to see, her form still, motionless in the stream that surrounded me, and then the others—Brendan’s soldiers, Morgan’s, every single man who stood before us. It was like a wave of consciousness, spreading through the crowd, and the men on the opposite side did not only freeze. They stepped back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Fire
It happened quickly, in the scheme of things, but time seemed to crawl as I stepped forward among the current of power enfolding me. I’d not made all my connections, not completed the network, but I’d made enough, the ones that counted. It had caused a hesitation, given us the seconds we needed. I could feel the tide turn, crashing against itself before shifting back in our direction. It was now. We were going to win.
Morgan was the first to come to his senses, the moment of stunned silence
all he needed to realize what it meant. He’d known I was a shade, a shadow, but he hadn’t seen me use the power, hadn’t thought I could do more than free him. My gaze caught Emily’s, standing solidly beside me, and in the storm, my voice sounded deadly. Lethal. “Break him.”
The room erupted into chaos as Logan ordered, “Move!” the same instant Morgan opened his mouth to call out the command, “Shoot her!” I thrust the air circling me toward Morgan, his order meeting with a gale of power that threw him backwards, knocked him off his feet, and seventy men converged upon the group, bullets and fighting filling the spaces on either side. Wesley was the first to go, his body in front of me before Logan’s words were even out, and his shoulder swung back as he took a bullet intended for either me or Emily.
But she was gone. She was running, her feet moving swiftly through the few feet of space that was left from Morgan’s position, dodging resolutely past the soldiers to her target.
She wasn’t just a girl. She was a warrior; she had been trained for this. She knew what she had to do, and she’d do it at all cost.
She leaned forward, ramming one attacker with her shoulder, and spun, twisting away from another to move through the crowd. Wesley had fallen, but he was up again, and he ran with me, both of us following in her wake, close behind as she reached her target.
Morgan had scrambled back, was getting to his feet, and Aern sprang at him, bashing his knee into the other man’s face. But Morgan was strong, too. Of all of us, he’d had the most training, and he rolled, tossing Aern as he worked to get a grip on his brother’s skin ... to turn him. Shots rang out again, and Emily swayed, but her steps didn’t falter. She was on him, feet and elbows flying as the two of them struggled to pin Morgan down. His crisp white shirt was suddenly open, the skin of his chest bare, and Emily’s palms pressed flat against him with a force that pushed him back, seemed to sear through him.
There was a scream. An utter roar.
And it was Morgan.
The room stilled again, the fighting staggering and breaking as his shriek splintered the air, and his men stopped to stare at the body below my sister’s palms. Aern sat back, panting, as Wesley’s boots came to rest beside him. I stood, staring down at Morgan’s face, all of us knowing that Emily had done it—she’d taken his fate, torn his power away.
The anger hadn’t left him, but Morgan was irrelevant now. Empty. Everything that had made him important, powerful, frightening, was gone, drained from him, and I realized that he had never been vital to the prophecy at all. He didn’t mean anything. We’d simply needed him to get here, to break ourselves free.
This had all been to force our hand. Because the prophecy was bigger, far more significant than any of this.
Morgan’s chest heaved as he stared at me, his eyes suddenly dull, void of anything other. He wanted me to die, and yet it made no difference anymore. He was immaterial.
“Leave him,” I told Emily. “He’s nothing more than a commonblood now.” She let out a breath, satisfied by my words, and stood as Wesley and two others gathered him into their custody.
I scanned the room, hundreds of men who were loyal to Morgan because of his sway watching us from the wreckage, waiting for it to make sense. To decide.
We couldn’t make them unthink their thoughts, couldn’t reverse what had been shoved into their minds by Morgan, but as my eyes connected with Aern’s, I knew there was something we could do, a way to give them new thoughts. To convince them Morgan was no longer their leader.
I wet my lips, kneeling down before Aern to take his hand. He was a dragon. He had the most powerful sway of anyone, aside from Morgan, and I could give him the gift he needed, the power to turn his own kind. Because I trusted him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, fully aware of what it would cost him, of what I was setting into motion.
Aern sighed. “Let me guess,” he said, not certain what I planned to do, but understanding by my expression that he wasn’t going to like it. “It’s the only way.”
I laughed despite myself, and my fingers trembled as the power moved through my palms. It took the last of my strength, but I could see that it would be enough. That he could turn them.
“Tell them,” I whispered, “show them it doesn’t matter.”
Emily caught me, her arms wrapping around me as I gave everything that was left, and I focused on the scent of her strawberry shampoo, not the blood that caked her shirt, not the wound from a bullet that had grazed my shoulder. The fire was gone. We had done it. Strong arms came around me, and I was lifted, carried away beneath the flickering light of half-seen visions and surgical lights.
When it was finally over, I woke, arm tender beneath a patch of tape and gauze, swathed in a clean white blanket in my bed.
Logan’s arms were around me. “Hi,” I croaked, shifting to see him better, and he inched away, careful of my injury.
His hand moved gingerly to my waist, rested there as the corner of his mouth came up in greeting. “Hi.”
“Are you all right?” I asked, seeing that he was fully dressed, new jeans over the thigh that had taken a hit, and he nodded, moving closer to prop his head on an elbow.
The room was dim, soft light from the washroom throwing shadows across the canopy overhead. The halls were silent, empty. It felt slightly hollow, as if something were missing, but that something should never have been there.
That something had accompanied me my whole life. It was the sense of impending disaster, the looming feeling of dread.
Logan leaned forward, nose brushing my cheek as he whispered, “You did it.”
He drew back to look at me, and I exhaled, knowing it was finally over; Morgan was no longer a threat. Emily was not going to be taken, the urgency of saving her gone. I’d found the key, released our powers.
And then I smiled, remembering. The cold fire hissing through my palms, the feel of the power, the air as it moved around me. The satisfaction of seeing Morgan’s face. “It was pretty impressive, wasn’t it?”
He stared at me, stock-still. Logan was suddenly straight-faced, tone solemn, when he said, “That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”
I laughed, kissing him earnest, and asked, “Does this mean we finally get those three days?”
“Take as long as you want,” Logan offered. And then he pursed his lips, considering the men and women of the Seven Lines who were expecting their prophet, their savior, to make an appearance. “But I’m pretty sure they’ll be downstairs waiting for you the entire time.”
I groaned as I buried my face into his arm. But when I drew back, the spark in Logan’s eyes freed me from every other concern. That otherworldly glow was there; he wasn’t just a man now. He was more, so much more.
“Let them wait,” I said as I moved to him.
I pressed a kiss to his pulse, and he lowered his head, gripping my waist tighter as he brought his mouth over mine. It was the closest I’d ever been to security. To home. Sure, there was other stuff, but it was vague, far away. This was now. Emily and I were safe. We would live.
And I had every intention of doing so.
DESCENANTS SERIES
BOOK THREE
REIGN OF SHADOWS
Chapter One
Brianna
Heat pulsed through the warehouse, liquid fire pushed by some unseen force. Metal screamed and block crumbled, tearing away every protection she had from the gale. But it was not the light of fire that accompanied the wind, nor the brightness of a flame. It was dark beneath the haze of fog.
It was a shadow.
Brianna jolted awake, sitting up to find the darkness of her room. It was there again, that urge to fight and the impulse to run, but she forced it down, not allowing herself to be afraid. Not even conceding to the desire to click on the bedside lamp. She took two deep breaths, committing the details to memory: the tang of metal in her mouth, the sulfur that hung on the too-hot wind, and the sound beneath the screeching, that steady beat of footsteps heading toward her.
She ran a hand over her face. They didn’t understand. As far as anyone knew, it was all over. The terror they’d faced with Morgan, with the prophecy, all of it gone. But less than a day since waking from that affair, the aftermath not even cleared away, she’d begun having the new visions.
The real ones.
She shuffled across the floor in darkness, hand out to catch the edge of the dresser, purposely not thinking about why her mind had labeled them that way, not allowing herself to panic at the ideas that had flooded her in the last hours. She would work through them, but one thing at a time. Brianna reached up, blindly feeling for the switch that would illuminate the washroom, and flinched at her reflection, the glimpse of something as it flashed in the too-green eyes staring back at her.
One thing at a time, she reminded herself, feeling the heat pulse through her fingertips, the skin prickle the length of her arm. Brianna pulled her hair back into a ponytail to splash her face with water, barely sparing another glance at her reflection before sliding into a pair of borrowed jeans and leaving the darkness of the bedroom to join the others.
The front room was large, holding a sitting area, several tables, and a workspace. Emily glanced up from where she perched on the edge of a sofa, always appearing ready to stand or bolt from the room, her dark blonde hair in loose waves, her casual smile still out of the ordinary. “Sorry, Bri,” she said. “Did we wake you?”
Brianna shook her head, forcing a smile as her eyes caught Logan, sending a sharp pang through her chest. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the side of a large padded chair, that same state of constant readiness in his form as in Emily’s.