War: Bridge & Sword: Apocalypse (Bridge & Sword Series Book 6)

by JC Andrijeski

  Gently, he pushed those thoughts from my mind.

  He kissed me again. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, then he leaned harder, pressing my back into the leather booth.

  He had me half-pinned there when the pain emanating off his light abruptly worsened, making me lose touch with the room. When I opened my eyes next, his were glowing, and he’d opened the front of my vest. His hand wrapped around my side, the fingers of his other hand tightening in my hair. His light pulled harder, until I found myself letting go.

  I merged into him as his body softened, growing heavier on mine.

  He bent to kiss me again, when Wreg’s voice rang out.

  “Hey!” Wreg slammed a fist on the table, making his plate, silverware and coffee cup rattle, nearly toppling his half-empty glass of juice where it balanced next to his plate. “No hand-jobs at the table! We discussed this, Illustrious Sword!”

  I flushed, flinching back and taking my hands off Revik. Glancing up, I saw Neela roll her eyes, right before she covered her face with a hand in mock disapproval.

  I laughed, unable to help myself.

  “Mind your business, pervert!” Revik yelled back good-naturedly. “Are you telling me I can’t flirt with my wife? You overbearing, light-sniffing voyeur!”

  “Flirt with her? Don’t give me that steaming pile of dugra-te, you raging hormonal mutant! I saw you just now! I fucking saw it! You have, ‘oh my gods, my wife is rubbing my dick’ face. Hands on the table, both of you.” Despite the general laugh this provoked, Wreg’s eyes darkened, right before he trained them directly on me. “…Or are we really going to have an orgy on our hands, Esteemed Bridge?”

  I saw the bite of real warning there, although it didn’t seem aimed at me.

  Well, not precisely.

  It occurred to me in the same set of seconds that he was nudging me towards Revik’s mind. Wreg wanted me to see something in Revik’s light, a less-obvious intention I’d either missed or conveniently ignored.

  But Revik wouldn’t go so far as to try and push me into his bonding trip again. Not after I’d just offered a compromise, one even he seemed to be cool with––

  Oh, he would. Believe it, princess.

  When I glanced at Wreg, he lifted an eyebrow, giving Revik a hard look.

  Frowning, I shifted my gaze to Balidor, only to find him watching us, too. I saw in his eyes and light that he agreed with Wreg.

  Just how much of our earlier argument had the two of them overheard?

  Quite enough, Esteemed Bridge, Balidor assured me with a wry smile. His eyes were sharp when he glanced at Revik. I think your husband is struggling with some self-control issues at the moment. Perhaps we need to have a talk with him? Walk him around the atrium a few times? Given your relative newness to the somewhat addictive elements of group dynamics, he might be applying more pressure than you realize.

  Wreg, characteristically, was more blunt.

  He’ll push you into it, if he can, the ex-Rebel warned. Not that I think he’s wholly rational right now, mind you. He may not have admitted it to himself, what he’s doing.

  I glanced at Balidor.

  Again, he exuded agreement with Wreg.

  It’s the reason he won’t go upstairs, Balidor added, softer.

  “Hands on the table, princess,” Wreg commanded aloud. I heard the seriousness under his tone, even though his voice remained joking. “…If you please.”

  I raised both hands in mock surrender, leaning back in the booth.

  Still, I couldn’t help being relieved they’d been paying attention. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed something was up with Revik. In fact, they seemed to understand whatever it was better than I did, which for once didn’t annoy me.

  Well, it didn’t annoy me very much.

  Revik looked between Wreg and Balidor, frowning.

  Balidor met his gaze, unapologetic. “Well? Do we need to take you for a stroll, Illustrious Sword?” Balidor exchanged another look with Wreg. “You seem a bit… agitated.”

  “Agitated, my ass.” Wreg snorted. “He’s lucky he has a tolerant wife.”

  “True.” Balidor smiled shrewdly at me, his eyes holding a bit of a question. “Although perhaps he’s taking advantage of that fact a bit too much?”

  “We should hose off the insubordinate bastard,” Wreg said. “Remind him who’s in charge of this outfit. It’s not her fault he’s afraid of his own shadow.”

  I winced at the obvious reference to Menlim, glancing at Revik before I could stop myself. Revik was looking between the two of them. His expression didn’t move, but I saw more than a flicker of understanding in his colorless eyes.

  “Maybe he needs more time with Yumi,” Balidor observed. “A little one on one time? Without the Esteemed Bridge?”

  “Yumi?” Wreg snorted. “He needs time in the ring. Getting his ass kicked. By me.”

  Jorag laughed from beside him, but I saw puzzlement in his blue eyes as he looked between the three of us. He could clearly feel the undercurrent; he just couldn’t follow what it meant.

  Truthfully, I’m not sure I followed all of it, either. I knew Yumi worked with some of the seers on trauma issues, helping repair their aleimi and so on, but that was about all I picked up.

  I glanced at Revik, and saw his jaw had hardened.

  His eyes were glowing for real now.

  Before I could say a word, he regained his feet. He moved fast––practically leaping up on the leather booth seat, too fast for me to make a sound. I looked up in alarm, rescuing my coffee and his, watching his face in bewilderment as he straightened to his full height.

  I honestly wasn’t sure if he was joking or not at that point.

  He closed his armored coat, glaring around at everyone sitting at our collection of shoved-together tables. Since most of them hadn’t really been paying attention to us before now, a number looked up in confusion, even alarm, when they saw Revik standing there.

  Most fell silent, uncertainty in their eyes when they saw his irises glowing.

  Even I had to admit, with the shadows on his angular face below those gold-green eyes, he looked dangerous, even frightening.

  Of course, that look had a slightly different effect on me.

  Brushing off my light’s reactions, I exchanged a look with Neela, copying her mannerisms by rolling my eyes, covering my face in mock shame.

  Neela and Yumi laughed, but most of those around the table barely spared me a glance as they stared up at Revik’s face, waiting for him to speak.

  “Are you disrespecting me?” Revik glared at Wreg. “Commander Thomas William Yarensi?”

  The table fell silent, right before Poresh let out a choking laugh.

  “Thomas?” he burst out, giggling.

  Something about the laugh made everyone else smile, too, until all of us were hiding grins.

  Wreg’s jaw hardened. He aimed a threatening scowl around the table, right before he glanced at Jorag, who raised an eyebrow in amusement.

  “William?” the muscular seer said. “Wreg is short for William?”

  Wreg glared at Revik. “You egomaniacal asshole! You rotting sack of weasel shit! You fucking promised that would remain between us. What the hell is a drunken promise between friends worth these days?” He looked at me, but that time, when I saw his eyes, I could tell he wasn’t really angry, even before he winked at me.

  “…This is your fault, Esteemed Traitor!” he added, pointing at me.

  Yumi burst out in another laugh.

  “My fault?” I pointed to my own chest. “How do you figure?”

  “You know how!” he snapped. “I guess it’s true that no woman can withhold sensitive information, not under the onslaught of the Sword’s sword!”

  I burst out in an involuntary laugh.

  That time, a smile crept out on Balidor’s face, too.

  Most of the other seers cracked up, even Loki, who was normally pretty stone-faced.

  “Don’t you dare insult my wi
fe!” Revik snapped.

  “I wasn’t!” Wreg shot back. “I was insulting you, you half-witted, mate-subjugated and strategically-challenged blowhard!”

  “Are you challenging me, you ink-soaked, brother-molesting alcoholic?” Revik demanded.

  “Not right now, I’m not.” Wreg held up his hands as if to shield his face, staring at Revik’s crotch. “I may not be able to see it, but I know it’s there. Put that thing away, before you have someone’s eye out…”

  That time, everyone at the table burst into laughter.

  Jorag and Yumi at the end of the extended table thumped the surface with their fists, the same the way Wreg had done, causing more plates, glasses, silverware and cups to rattle, and sloshing coffee into saucers.

  Revik looked down at me, his voice suddenly accusatory.

  “Wife! Aren’t you going to come up here and defend me?”

  “Do I have to?” I said meekly, which brought another spate of laughter.

  “Yes!” Revik demanded, holding out a hand.

  Getting reluctantly to my feet, I climbed up on the booth beside him, conscious suddenly of the fact that both of us were still wearing boots muddy with Argentinian soil, coated in concrete dust from the apartments in Albany, oil from the tarmac of the private airstrip, and whatever else.

  I mouthed “sorry” to Junte, but she only laughed, waving me off as she watched us from the wait station with the other servers.

  Revik stared out over the table, his eyes glowing brighter. Standing with legs slightly apart, he glared around at all of them, his expression that of a king surveying his subjects.

  “Well?” Wreg said. “Are you still contemplating an orgy, brother? Or have you decided to stop taking your rampant paranoia out on your poor wife?”

  Neela glanced at Wreg, her expression openly puzzled, right before she looked at me. Seeing the question in her eyes, I sent her a brief reassurance.

  Revik must have felt that, too, because he glanced at me and frowned, his expression darkening before he looked out over the rest of the room.

  When he spoke next, his voice came out harder.

  “Pick up your plates!” he said.

  They all looked at one another in confusion, not moving.

  “I said… pick up your goddamned plates!” he thundered.

  Even I jumped, feeling like I’d been smacked sharply on the ass. He’d put light into his voice that time, so that his words shook the threads of our aleimi like a solar wind.

  There was a scramble of clanking silverware, plates, coffee cups and glasses as everyone hastily did as he’d commanded. Within seconds, every seer at the table held their plates at chest height, looking up at him in confusion––or maybe for further instruction.

  Without warning, Revik turned to me.

  He bent smoothly and picked me up, lifting me to his chest by sliding his arms behind my knees and around my shoulders. I didn’t have time to do much more than let out a yelp of surprise.

  By then, he’d already stepped out on the table.

  He took long, leaping strides between the remaining cutlery and platters to the empty spots left by the missing plates. Everyone laughed as soon as he stepped onto the first of the five tables, pulling their plates even further out of the way as we passed. I couldn’t help noticing Balidor, Wreg, Jorag and Neela had picked their plates up, too.

  “Barbarian!” Wreg called out, as Revik jumped off the end of the table next to where Holo stood to give him room.

  Holo laughed, slapping Revik on the back as he passed.

  “Stay away long enough to act civilized when you get back!” Wreg added, raising his voice. “We don’t need any more of your debauchery here, thank you very much.”

  He was smiling though, and I noticed the sharper look in his eyes had relaxed, despite the scrutiny he continued to aim at Revik’s back.

  “Happy hunting, boss,” Neela called out, laughing with Yumi.

  Revik spared both of them a backwards glare, right before he headed for the restaurant’s front door, still gripping me tightly in his arms.

  18

  IMPULSIVE

  “YOU KNOW IT is reckless… what you did.”

  The seer’s voice was a low purr, carrying only the faintest trace of rebuke.

  He clasped bone-white hands at the base of his back, looking out over the storm that battered a city skyline in the distance. Much of the electricity appeared to be out in the lower part of the city. The buildings only lit up under the lightning flashes from black and gray clouds.

  The apartment where they stood was dark, too.

  They hadn’t yet lit the fireplace, but candle flames flickered from the mantle. They flickered from the glass coffee table, a bookshelf against the wall, the windowsills.

  She liked the candles.

  The high-ceilinged room created odd shadows from them. They lit up the paintings in their gilded frames, the mirror over the calfskin couch. They reflected against marble chess pieces that stood on a wet bar on the opposite side of the fireplace.

  “…It could have put the timeline backwards, instead of forward, War Cassandra,” he added, re-clasping his hands. “It could have forced you to wait longer, dear heart, instead of speeding things up.” His gold eyes sharpened when he added, “It could have taken the prize from us altogether. It could have caused him to take her away somewhere we might never find them.”

  Frowning, she let her eyes drift back to her knife. She shrugged, watching the motion of her fingers over and under the bone handle.

  “It didn’t,” she said.

  “It could have. You could have been seen.”

  “But it didn’t… and I wasn’t.”

  Sinking her weight to the armrest of the cowhide couch, she continued flipping the long, bone-handled knife over and over in her hand. It was a trick Jack taught her, years ago, while they’d both been in high school, but one she still wondered at.

  She’d always been good with weapons. Even in her few kung fu classes with Jon, he’d complimented her attempts when she’d been playing with the swords and staffs. Now that she knew who and what she was, she found that almost funny.

  Smiling to herself, she flipped the knife higher, catching the bone handle easily as it fell to her palm. Kicking her high-heeled leather boot against the base of the couch, she leaned her weight on her other hand, flipping the knife again.

  Remembering the old man, she looked over at where he created a dark slash against the window’s grey light. He seemed forever to be standing before windows.

  The apartment itself was beautiful––a penthouse overlooking the Statue of Liberty, lower Manhattan, the New York Harbor, as well as the Staten Island docks below.

  She knew they were safe up here.

  Shadow’s people filled the building, and patrolled the streets below behind a military-grade construct and a DNA-triggered OBE. They seemed to have plenty of food and water, as well, given how easily all of her requests were fulfilled in that regard.

  Even so, she found it odd––unnerving, even––how quiet it was on those waters, and in the sky and on the streets below. They were behind more than one barricade, she knew, including the human FEMA and SCARB barriers, and those erected by the local police. They were also on an island, in addition to that.

  The quiet still struck her as eerie.

  Glancing back at the old seer, she rolled her eyes at the frown on his lips.

  “I didn’t want to wait,” she said. “We needed this. You said it yourself, just now. The window could close. There’s a good chance he’s already planning on taking her away.”

  “That chance increases exponentially if we spook him, Formidable War. Which is far more easy and likely right now, under the circumstances––”

  “But I didn’t,” she said, deliberately emphasizing the word. “I could have, but I didn’t. He doesn’t know anything. Anyway, knowing Revik, the longer we wait, the more likely it is he’ll leave with her.” Thinking about her own words, she
snorted. “Gaos. Ain’t that the truth. No one can wind Revik up like Revik… apart from the Queen Bitch herself, and I’m pretty sure she’s still completely clueless.”

  The old seer’s frown deepened.

  He looked back towards the window.

  She could still see most of his profile, tinted a faint yellow in the light from the candles. His expressions changed with a subtlety she couldn’t help but find fascinating. It was as if each muscle moved independently, each containing its own tiny thread of thought or emotion.

  Despite her feigned nonchalance, she hoped he wasn’t really angry with her. She cared what he thought, more than she usually showed him.

  She cared too much, perhaps.

  Turning back to the view out the windows, he let out a low purr, as if still thinking.

  “You might be right,” he conceded. “He could take her away, regardless of what we do. If he manages to convince himself she is not safe with the rest of them, he could take her away without telling any of the others, either. Coordinating this sooner is undoubtedly safer than later.”

  Cass felt that tightness in her chest relax.

  “Well, then?” She watched his eyes focus on the black clouds and the flash of lightning bolts over the city. “It worked out then, right? What I did? It’ll help us?”

  He sighed, glancing at her.

  After another pause, he clicked softly, shaking his head.

  “I cannot decide whether I should scold you or congratulate you, War Cassandra… which is quickly becoming a pattern for us.” Still frowning faintly, he added, “Your control over Feigran alone is impressive beyond words. Is there anything he will not do for you at this point, my dear? I’m almost afraid to know what that might be, if so.”

  Seeing the faint smile in his eyes, Cass felt her chest loosen still more.

  Smiling wryly at the old man, she winked. “Feigran has his uses, uncle. He’s damned good at getting in and out of tight places unseen. And convincing humans and seers he has every right to be wherever he is.” Flipping the knife, she added, shrugging, “Anyway. You told me to take care of him. I heard you tell him to take care of me. I think we’re doing all right.”