Descendants Series

by Melissa Wright

  There was a sudden stillness in the air as Brianna stopped, one small instant of respite from the wind and cold, the rustle of leaves, and Callan’s step faltered as he turned to look at her face.

  She stood, expression blank, green eyes wide. Her voice was dead, tone void of all emotion when she said, “He didn’t kill her.”

  She drew her arm free of his grip, braced it at her side. “He didn’t kill her and no one knew about the letter.” She took the step forward, but not to draw herself beside him. It was to close the distance. To confront him. “He pushed her. You pushed him and he pushed her.” She straightened to her full height, flexed her fingers before curling them into fists. Gone was the frailty. Nothing remained but the fury of a true shadow. “So that I wouldn’t see you before you were ready.”

  Callan pushed hard against the guards, knowing he would need to buy a few precious minutes to deal with the new direction this had taken. He might have explained it to her fully if he’d thought he was in danger, might have told her that once he released his hold, the prophets would see, that they would warn the ancients and there would be nothing for her. But he thought he could handle this girl. He’d simply misread her before, because she’d purposefully let pieces of herself slip through. He could fix it, he was certain. Even if she had sealed herself against him now. Even if she’d left nothing but the surety that he’d been wrong.

  That she’d had a vision, that she’d seen the truth.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but the snap of underbrush behind him caught the breath in his chest.

  It was the girl’s sister, the one on whom his power had absolutely no effect. Emily. And she’d heard Brianna’s revelation.

  “Oh,” she said in a low, even tone, “I am going to enjoy this.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Brianna

  After all they’d been through, Brianna should have been angry at learning this shadow had taken her mother. But all she could feel was relief. Their mother was gone, nothing could change that. But the idea that her mother’s power, Morgan’s torture and the visions that had showed her the only way to save her children had caused her to take her own life, that knowledge had been a burden on Brianna for as long as she could remember.

  Brianna had thought her mother’s gift had killed her, that there was no escaping it. But she’d been wrong. It wasn’t the power. It was Callan, it was the shadows.

  Suddenly, it was as if there was a chance, a way to make their own fate, and the weight on her chest lifted, freeing her up to feel what the dark-haired man was taking from her. It was his gift, she knew. His way of reaching her, clawing into her mind and stealing from the core of her power, her very self. And there was nothing stopping them now, no hope that their mother had laid this man in place.

  He was nothing.

  “Do it,” she said, eyes meeting Emily’s over the shoulder of the dark-haired man. Her sister was perched on the balls of her feet, waiting for the command. Head tilted down, green eyes glowing, she only hesitated the one instant before launching herself toward Callan. Brianna knew what she was doing, knew she was putting every emotion she had into signaling Aern.

  Callan’s mouth opened as if to speak, and there was a crash as Emily’s lithe form slammed into him. Brianna moved in sync with her, using every remaining bit of energy she had to break his concentration. Emily got a hand on him, but Callan was fast, spinning free of her grip before she could do any real damage. Another man might have given up training, let it slip as he relied too heavily on his gift and the talent to sway, but Brianna could see that Callan had not. Everything he did was smooth and practiced, and he’d had so much more time to prepare, let alone become familiar with his gifts. But she and Emily were no longer insignificant.

  “Stop,” he said, but Emily’s fist smashed against his chiseled jaw. From the sound of it, Brianna guessed she’d perfected her ability to move with the force of her power. Emily was no mere shadow. She was the chosen. She could do this.

  Callan’s words might have been cut short, but he didn’t hesitate at the interruption, his own instincts kicking in as he grabbed Emily’s wrist and wrenched it sideways then down in a quick twist and jerk that definitely broke something. Brianna hit him from behind, throwing the largest blast of power she could muster after he’d taken so much from her in the last few minutes. Callan turned, shoving his own power toward her. It was like an explosion, like the blasts at the Division house when she’d been running and then opened her eyes to find herself in a whole other spot, ears ringing, eyes burning, body numb. She lay on the ground, the dark-haired man stalking toward her, a predator that should have set off the alarms that were instinct to her. But she could feel nothing aside from the crushing pressure of her chest, the tearing pain inside her head. She squeezed her eyes shut the way she had during the visions, forcing herself to feel through tingling hands for the earth below. She found it there, barely, the uneven blades of grass, the edge of two dried leaves, the soil, wet and cold, and she clung to it.

  Brianna opened her eyes, knowing her body would respond if she asked it to stand, but she did not make the command. She stayed still, staring at the shadow who moved toward her in a prowl, his eyes black pools beneath a set brow. He had plans for her. Still. Brianna let out a breath, a final, relief-filled sigh at the sight of him, so determined and focused on her. He never even saw her sister as she reached up, grasping the bare forearm that had only moments ago been exposed when his cuffs were ripped free.

  She might have smiled at him, given him that one small thrill of terror that he’d seemed so fond of when torturing Ellin. But she didn’t, because she’d seen Morgan and she understood what Emily was about to do.

  He felt Emily’s touch the same moment a burst of red exploded on the collar of his crisp white shirt. Brianna knew this because somehow, through everything that had happened, he still held that link to her. She knew that he’d not expected the sniper fire, that he’d never really considered her a threat. She knew that he trusted his sway to handle any of the Seven who attempted to help her, and she knew that he’d never expected either her or Emily to show up at this property.

  But what she didn’t know, what she hadn’t felt until that very moment, was his fear.

  And it was not what she’d expected.

  “Emily!” she screamed, scrabbling to her knees, groping for purchase on the dark-haired man or her sister. “Emily!”

  Emily was so intent on her task, wincing and straining and twisted around him, that she didn’t realize it wasn’t simply a warning to hurry. “Almost,” she promised, “one more second…”

  A hand was suddenly under Brianna’s arm, bringing her to her feet, soldiers rushing toward Emily and the shadow, the Seven who had been hiding, slowly working closer to save them without risk of sway. She stumbled, fighting against the arms urging her to stand so they might run back to the waiting vans, and she screamed it again.

  Emily looked up, this time hearing the fear in her sister’s voice. But it was too late. Brianna felt the rush of power as it came back to her, the sudden, overwhelming feel of everything. It was the way she’d felt it on the Council lawn, when everything had changed. And she understood it now, recognized that he’d truly saved her that day. In that one brief moment he’d given up his control on her, he’d let it slip so that she could live. But she wasn’t safe anymore.

  They were watching her.

  Emily dropped her hold on the dark-haired man, who was marked in several places with the blood of armor-piercing rounds. The soldiers stilled, Aern and Logan and a half-dozen men of the Seven Lines. She didn’t speak, but Emily’s expression was clear. What is it?

  A wave of darkness swam over Brianna and she fought to focus. But it was Callan who spoke. A wet, rattling gurgle as he pressed his free hand against the wound in his neck. “You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have come.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Callan

  A wave of vertigo hit Brianna as her po
wer returned, the swarm of visions bringing her to her knees where she heaved helplessly into the fall of leaves below. He’d lost his connection to her, lost every chance at defeating the shadows on his own. The prophets were free now, and though they might not have been as strong as Brianna, they would see. They would see and they would tell the ancients who ruled them.

  The other future would come to pass.

  And any moment the guards would know where to find them. Callan had lost, but that didn’t mean he had to let the ancients win. He drew a choking breath, struggling to say, “Run.”

  The crowd had fallen still as Brianna grappled with the visions. He was sure even the weakest of the Seven could feel the power radiate from her, but the only thing crossing his skin was a numb chill. He was empty. The Archer boy stared down at him and Callan pressed his hand harder to the wound as he said, “They will find you, there’s no stopping that now. But at least you can force their hand.” He gestured toward the back of the property, a security fence beyond the trees that led to the old storehouse. If the guards found them there, they would only try to pin them down until the ancients arrived. “You have less than two minutes.”

  He was surprised to feel the warmth of blood slide across his palm, another wound from the spray of bullets that had also pierced his neck and chest. Aern nodded, reaching past him to take Emily’s good arm and pull her to standing. Callan knew it was the last thanks he would get. It wasn’t the sound of approaching guards he was thinking of when he watched them run away, but the ancients. He drew another breath, coughing fresh blood into his mouth, and dragged himself the last few feet to the nearest tree. He wanted be sitting up when he saw them, when they finally realized the truth. He wanted to face them. It was not so they would think him brave or strong.

  It was so they could see his smile.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Brianna

  Logan carried her across the five hundred yards to the warehouse. It was flashes of dark and light, the sound of their boots slapping concrete as they ran through a maze of large, open rooms, sun streaming through the windows to light on crates and boxes, metal and wood.

  Brianna pressed her eyes shut tight, forcing control of the images that sought her. She clung to the material of Logan’s shirt, grasping at the realness of it. She had to ground herself, to anchor her mind in the now. Daniels called out, some directive that they’d found the safest vantage point, and she felt Logan shift as he lowered her to the floor, keeping her back propped against his knee and his arms around her.

  She opened her eyes slowly, allowing for the tilt of the room as the scene from her vision and the world surrounding her coalesced. It was that warehouse, the one from her dreams. It was the concrete and fire, only waiting for the flame. She could almost feel the heat of it, the scent of sulfur and the certainty that he was coming for her. She burrowed tighter into Logan’s arms, her eyes squeezing closed again.

  Logan placed a hand under her chin, tipping her head back to face him. “Brianna,” he whispered. “Stay with us, Bri.”

  She nodded, the smallest shift of her head, and forced herself to open her eyes again. She focused on Logan, on the amber glow of his eyes, the way the bits of gold shone in even this dim light, a rim of darkness surrounding them. It was Logan. He was here. He was real.

  “Brianna,” her sister said in a hushed tone that still seemed to echo through the space. “What is it? What is coming for us?”

  Emily. Emily and Aern and Logan. The Seven, the soldiers, all of them were here. And they needed her. That was what was real.

  She swallowed hard, pulling herself up to face them. They stood scattered through the room where she and Logan knelt, half watching the doors, half watching Brianna. They were waiting for her, waiting for an order.

  “There are other shadows,” she said shakily. “They are older and stronger, and they have ways of manipulating the power that we’ve not even thought of.” She took a steadying breath, running the palm of her hand over her jeans. “Callan was using his power, drawing mine to him in order to block their prophets from seeing our path.” She shook her head, finding Emily’s gaze. “I don’t know if he made a deal with them, or if they were totally unaware of what he’d done, but I know his intention now. And I know that they want you.”

  Emily stiffened, caught off guard by the turn of events, and then winced at forgetting her recently dislocated shoulder. But Brianna was the one they’d been focused on, Brianna had been the only person Callan had made contact with, and it didn’t make sense. “Why?”

  Brianna grimaced, forcing back the visions that were even now trying to warn her. It was close, they didn’t have long. “Because the shadows,” she said, “have a prophecy of their own.”

  The shadow guards were moving through the grounds, Brianna could see Logan’s men signaling their alert, but the footsteps were silent. These weren’t like the others, the ones who’d attacked Council.

  “The other ancients gave power to the Seven Lines,” Brianna explained, watching Emily. “But you’re the only one who can take it back.”

  “Take it back?” she whispered. “Why would they care? The Seven didn’t even know they existed.”

  Brianna brushed the hair away from her face before she answered, murmuring cautions circling her mind and running over her skin. “Because their prophecy is different. Their prophecy says we will destroy the world. You and I.”

  Emily scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.” And then she saw the look on Brianna’s face, the gravity of her sister’s expression, and the air rushed out of her. “Gods, Bri, is it true?”

  Brianna shrugged. “It isn’t like we thought, Emily. There are so many futures, so many ways this can play out. But we have changed things, haven’t we?” She gestured toward Aern, turning her hand up helplessly. “I’ve given them the gifts, you’ve created a union that will allow you to rule…”

  Emily ran a palm over her face, groaning. “So what are we supposed to do?” She pointed in the direction of the doorway, a line of stone pillars cluttering the main space. “They’re coming to kill us.”

  Seth and Kara turned at her words, eyes sharp on the two of them as Brianna said, “No, just me.”

  “They want to use you,” Aern said to Emily. “They want you to break us for them. To take away all of our powers.” What he didn’t say lingered there, because they would kill Emily, after they’d had their use of her. After she’d taken away Aern’s sway and the Seven had lost any hope they had to fight.

  “So all this time,” Logan said, “they’ve just been watching, waiting for you to show yourselves?”

  Brianna sighed. “They’ve led everything, pushing Morgan and Brendan and all of us so that we could destroy ourselves, do their work for them.” Her eyes met Logan’s. “But they didn’t expect us to get this far. And Callan concealed the future from them. He told them I was hiding a secret, something that was too dangerous to risk.”

  Emily stared at her, voice even. “Please tell us it’s true.”

  Brianna smiled, slipping her hand into Logan’s. “There are no more secrets. Because I can see everything.”

  But the smile wasn’t without doubt, and they could all see that. Logan shifted, drawing Brianna back against him as he urged her to stand. “They’re here.”

  “It’s not them we have to worry about,” she said, indicating the space outside where the shadow guards were lurking. “It’s the others.”

  She resisted the urge to fall into that vision, to feel the sting on her skin, the scent of them, the feral compulsion to fight them or to run. She had to stay right here for now, to get the new senses under her control. It was their one chance. The only thing that had changed her visions in the past, that had altered the prophecy and their future, was Emily’s bond to Aern. Something in that action had shifted their fate.

  And this time, it had to be Logan. He would be that change. He would be her anchor.

  The plan wasn’t exactly how she might have imagined the
ir bond, but it was the only option that might work. She wished she could know what their mother had intended, what she and the shadows who helped her had wanted when they laid this arrangement into place so long ago. But they had taken her, and Brianna would never know. In the end, she’d have to choose for herself. She glanced through the room, at Eric and Ellin, and the soldiers of the Seven, at Aern and Emily, at the way their postures mirrored one another, waiting.

  She would choose for her. And she would choose for them.

  She would choose Logan.

  ***

  It was fifteen minutes before the earth began to shake. Fifteen minutes of waiting, of scanning futures, of checking and rechecking the paths. Fifteen minutes of peace before fire tore through the forest outside the warehouse, the block of trees where they had left Callan bleeding. The ancients had found him, and they were not pleased.

  “It’s time,” Brianna ordered as she opened her eyes to the now, to the trembling space that held them, the concrete and metal that would soon be ash. The soldiers held their positions, though they wouldn’t be there long. A blast tore through the warehouse, ripping stone and block from the walls, throwing half of them back and into concrete and steel that contained them. Logan held fast to his power, keeping himself and Brianna steady and secured in place. Brianna used her own energy to shield them from debris, not daring to look for Emily or Aern, to lose her focus to the what if.

  An instant later the roar of the blast died and the air was sucked from the room, swift and dreamlike, broken only by the groan of metal as the structure around them strained under the burden of the explosion. Brianna’s arms prickled, the hiss of coiling air seeming to call her name. Taunt her.

  Promise her.

  “Down!” she yelled, and Logan threw them both forward into the shelter of a pillar as heat and flame surged past. It was too quick, too strong. Nothing about it seemed real, even though it absolutely wasn’t her dream. It was only too tangible, the searing pain unquestionable as molten fire filled the space, stealing their breath and swallowing their sight. She pressed her face against the smooth floor, its warmth like cool water in comparison, and Logan laid his chest and shoulder over her, covering what he could. She tried to count in her head, to will herself to stay down for the seconds this would last.