“I have no idea how many Guardians are going to be in there with him, but just remember they don’t have the talents you do. Use your Speed and Strength, but don’t depend on it completely. They’ve had a lot longer to train their talents than you have. Use the attacks we’ve practiced, the ones they won’t be expecting, and can’t defend against. Use whatever force you think is necessary.”
That last sentence comes out a little quieter. I don’t like having to issue a command like that. It’s not that I’ve never killed anyone before, we all know that’s not the case, but I still hate the idea of taking a life. When the choice is one of the five people surrounding me or one of the Guardians, I don’t even have to consider it. I hear the click of Braden’s 9mm chambering a round behind me and flinch. It’s a reminder that the gun is his only protection, as well as the fact that you don’t need talents to kill people. My own handgun is snug in its holster on my ankle, just in case Drake is trickier than I expected. Although, after watching him kill the Seeker who failed to stop us at the compound, I think it’s a safe bet that anybody we run into in there will be pretty heavily armored. Drake is much smarter than Blackwood.
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath, “let’s get this over with. Everyone be careful and make sure Drake stays alive long enough to answer some questions.”
It only takes a quick check with my Naturalism to figure out the door isn’t even locked. Everyone takes their positions. I yank the door open and drop to my knee. The blast of talent-stealing energy hits me and steals my focus. One hand drops to the ground to steady me as panic streaks through my veins. A second later my hand is swept out from under me and my shoulder and head slap against the hardwood floor. The scent of varnish fills my nostrils and makes my head hurt even worse than it already did. It does help clear some of the haze from my head, though. I can think clearly enough to know we’re all going to die if I don’t do something fast.
Through wavering vision, I can see Hope writhing on the ground just behind me, looking more furious than usual. I worried Drake would pull something like what there was in the dungeon, but this is so much worse. Someone’s grabs my shoulders and starts dragging me away. A shot rings through the air and I drop back to the floor. Braden. He has no talents. He’s perfectly fine! Maybe that thought should make me hopeful, but it doesn’t. He can’t take on a room full of Seekers. They’ll crush him under their heel. My eyes catch Hope’s again and I’m shocked to see the clarity in them. Her fingers inch under her body, readying to push her back up at the right moment.
I’m such an idiot. Drake can’t steal talents, that’s my department. He’s only disrupting them. My eyes close for a second. I focus all my energy on digging up the fury and hate I harbor for this man. The fire of my emotions push me to connect with Perception first, then the rest of my warbling talents. The talents doubled by stealing Braden’s rebound the best. I’m nowhere near what I should be, but it has to be enough. Searching the room, I spot Braden doing his best to stay ahead of the armored fists and legs that will smash his body to pieces. He’s a little too slow and gets clipped on the shoulder. The blow spins him around, making him stumble back toward me. I meet his eyes and give one simple command.
He drops to his stomach and I leap up over him, my shoulder blasting the air out of the nearest Seeker’s lungs, despite his body armor, and carrying us into the group behind him. I can hear Hope rushing in after me, and I think the others are as well, but I don’t stop to coordinate with them. The Seeker I landed on is wheezing from a punctured lung. He won’t be getting back up. Shots sound all over the room, but very few are doing any damage. Snapping my feet under me, I spring up and send my heel into the next one’s nose. Blood gushes down his face. The wound doesn’t stop him from lunging back at me. I let him come, lifting my arms to catch his head as he tries to ram me. I use his own momentum against him and snap his neck as I throw him to the ground.
A booted foot slams into my side. I barely keep myself from falling over by grabbing his ankle. I pull him forward and grip his head between my hands. My weakened Spiritualism responds to my call and I thrust it into his body, grabbing his own spirit and flinging it away. His body goes limp and falls to the floor under the forced lapse into unconsciousness. I stumble back up and immediately spot Braden still on his feet. I hold onto my relief for later and grab another Seeker diving for me. He gets a dose of my Concealment, snapping a globe of shielding around his head so he can’t see or hear anything. Taking him down after that is child’s play.
Creative uses of our talents, even as reduced as they are, let us slowly overcome the surprised Seekers one by one until the last one is slammed into the ground. Adrenaline pulls me back up quickly, faster than anyone else. Well, anyone but Braden. I turn to find him pinning Drake to the ground with his knee. How did he even manage to take Drake down? The guy looks fragile, sure, but he’s a Seeker! There’s no way that should have happened. More important, though, is the muzzle of the gun Braden’s shoving against Drake’s head. His finger starts to squeeze.
“Braden, no!” I scream.
He freezes, but doesn’t pull back. I can see the veins in his neck and head pulsing against his skin, filled with more hatred than I ever expected to find there. Everyone else in the room has stopped moving. Their eyes are all trained on Braden. Only Dean quietly edges forward, ready to stop Braden if he doesn’t get a hold of himself in time. Milo’s going to love this. I can hear the “I told you so” already.
“Braden, please. We need him. You know how much we need him,” I beg.
Braden’s fingers tighten around the grip of the 9mm, and Lance takes another step forward. I have no idea what Braden’s doing. He looks positively possessed, glaring at Drake hard enough to eat right through his skull. Everyone in the room is holding their breath. This whole operation, three months of work will all be ruined if Braden pulls the trigger. I’m having such a hard time breathing, I’m afraid I might pass out soon. My hands are shaking while the end of the gun stays completely still on Drake’s head. My gaze slides down the length of the gun and inadvertently finds Drake’s face. His blank expression puzzles me.
He’s literally about to die, and he looks like he might be reading the Sunday paper. My distress makes it even harder to get a firm grip on my Perception, but I toss it at Drake as soon as I have it in hand. Acceptance, superiority, satisfaction, and a large dose of disbelief, they pool around him peacefully. Understanding hits me. Drake wants this. He never expected to fail against me, but he did, and death is preferable to falling into my hands. He wants Braden to kill him.
“Braden, what did he say to you? What’s going on?” I ask.
Finally, Braden’s eyes leave Drake’s head and snap up to mine. “He’s the one who made me try to kill you.”
Chapter 22
Death House
I don’t understand. Braden has seen Drake before, at his house and in the picture I took. He’s never reacted like this. It’s not like he’s just now realizing that Drake is the one who forced the Oath to kill me on him. He never told me about that, but I don’t see why he’s freaking out, now. I’ve never seen him like this. I’m certain he’s going to kill him if I don’t figure out a way to stop him. That’s not Braden, though. Yes, he’ll kill to protect someone else, but he’s not vindictive or eager to take lives. His reaction seems wildly out of character.
Drake’s eyes close and his jaw tightens very slightly, like he’s concentrating on something. What on earth is he … Braden. Understanding dawns like a flash of white hot electric heat. “Braden, Drake’s manipulating you. Don’t do this, please. He must have another talent. He must be a Spiritualist. He’s trying to get you to kill him. He knows I’ll drag his secrets out of him. Drake wants you to end his life before I get the information we need.”
“I don’t care, Libby. He deserves to die,” Braden snaps.
“Maybe so, but not yet. Braden, please. If you kill him, everything we’ve worked for over the last few months will
be for nothing. We need him,” I say, taking a hesitant step forward. Braden doesn’t react, so I step closer. “If you kill him, you’ll be giving him what he wants. He wants to take the easy way out, Braden. Don’t let him have it.”
Braden’s brow scrunches in confusion as he tries to pit what I’m saying against whatever Drake is shoving into his head. His fingers loosen on the grip then tighten again, pressing the muzzle against Drake’s head more firmly. Drake is so close to getting what he wants. I can feel his satisfaction more clearly. He’s ramping up Braden’s anger at him in order to get him to pull the trigger, but if anger and revenge are what’s guiding Braden’s thoughts right now, I can use that, too.
“Braden,” I say calmly, “if you really want to punish Drake for what he did to you, don’t kill him, give him to me. He’s not going to like what I’m going to do to him. Remember when I found out about the prophecy from you? It wasn’t pleasant, but I was being very careful with you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I won’t be careful with Drake. I’ll push as hard as I have to. I’ll make him beg me to kill him just to make the pain stop. He’ll wish he could give up every secret he has to me by the end. If you want him to suffer, don’t give him a clean death.”
Finally, Braden pulls the gun back. I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s cut off by Drake screaming out his frustration and throwing Braden off of him. Startled, I don’t react fast enough. Drake lunges at Braden. Too fast to stop, Drake’s fist cracks into Braden’s skull, dropping him like a jellyfish. His fingers scrabble for the gun that fell out of Braden’s hand. I shake off my surprise and dive at him. My hand knocks the gun away from both of us, but the movement costs me the upper hand. Drake’s still empty hand curls back at me, locking around my throat. I can hear the others moving in the room, coming to help, but they seem to be moving in slow motion. I glance over at Braden and see him stir sluggishly before turning back to my attacker, trying to reach the gun on my ankle.
Drake is stronger than I would have given his slight frame credit for. With the interference still raging, I struggle to get his arm off of me. His other hand flashes in toward my neck. The glint of something sharp and shiny sticking out from the edge of his watch speeds toward my throat. My thrashing doubles as I try to get away from the poisoned dart. Hammond appears in front of me, suddenly, his hand reaching down to grab Drake’s.
“No, Hammond! Don’t!” I scream, but my words don’t register in time. His hand closes around Drake’s wrist.
Hammond jerks his hand back, and I can see the tiny ruby-colored drop on his palm. Drake’s own surprise that his poison didn’t reach either me or him slackens his grip. I slip my elbow free and ram it into his temple. He lolls to the side as Hammond’s knees buckle and Kayla screams. Dean and Lance reach me and help secure the stunned Drake. I warn them about the dart before stumbling over to Hammond.
“Hammond?” Kayla cries. “What happened? Hammond, look at me!”
My hands grip his wrist and I thrust my Naturalism into him. I wait for the flood of sensory information I usually get when I try to heal a wound, but all I get is a trickle of pain and toxin. “Damn it, the interference! Kayla, we have to get him out of the room. Help me!”
She’s sobbing and a total wreck, but she grabs his arm and helps me tug him toward the door. He’s a big guy, and neither of us can access our Strength completely. Dragging him across the floor seems to take an eternity even when Hope rushes in to help. I can feel his pulse growing fainter. It is almost completely gone by the time we get him into the hall. We collapse next to him as soon as we’re clear of the interference and both of us latch onto him and pour our talents into his body.
Kayla gasps as she feels her lover’s life slipping away. I grit my teeth and focus everything on his body. I can’t hold in my own sob as the information bounces back at me. The toxin has already sped its way through his veins. They’re disintegrating as I hold him, blood losing its track and spilling into the rest of his tissues. I race to stop it, slow the pace, repair the damage, but it’s already too late. The toxin flows into his heart and starts ripping it apart. Nothing I can do is enough to stop it. His life slips away quietly in the midst of Kayla’s agony.
Grief wells inside of me at the sight of Hammond’s motionless body, but another emotion more intense pulls me up from the floor and turns me back toward Drake. I storm into the room, barely even noticing that the interference has stopped, and yank him out of Dean’s grip. My fingers lock around his throat and slam him down on the desk he was poised so calmly behind just a few minutes ago. His head rebounds against the wood and smacks back down a second time. His eyes lose their focus for a second, realigning only to meet mine a bare inch away. For the first time, emotion creeps into his controlled visage. Fear widens his pupils until his baby blues are almost completely engulfed.
“I’d kill you right now for what you just did if I didn’t believe what I told Braden,” I say with sheer fury. “Death is too good for you. I’ll get the information I want from you, and I’ll make you pay dearly for it. And after I get what I want, I’ll use every one of my talents to make sure you understand just how despicable and evil you are. How’s it going to feel when I dredge up your memories of the people you’ve tortured and killed and make you relive them a dozen times? And if that doesn’t work, I’ll find memories of the people you loved and make you watch them die over and over again, because there’s no way you don’t have at least one loved one you’ve lost.”
Drake goes completely pale, and I know I’ve hit the right nerve. Awful, furious desire to hurt him rages in me.
“Who was it, Drake? A parent, like me? A sibling? Or maybe a woman?” I ask slowly.
His frozen exterior cracks. The slightest hint of moisture in his eyes betrays him. I have no compassion for him at all. He lost his lover, well, that’s what he tried to do to me. He tried to make me kill the man I loved. I don’t think he ever expected Braden to succeed. I think he knew I would be too strong, that I would be forced to kill him. Sending Braden was a new way to torture me, break me down by making me murder him.
I slam his shoulders against the desk again and hiss, “I guess we’ll see how many times you can watch her die before you wish you’d never heard my name, Drake. And then, when you’re so broken you’ll never be able to put yourself back together, if you’re really lucky, that’s when I’ll kill you.”
He doesn’t even try to move when I let go of him. Hope is there, though, to take over guarding Drake. She nods at me approvingly. When I turn around, I don’t get the same from Dean and Lance, or a bleeding Braden. They all stare at me in shock. My chin starts to tremble, but I don’t let any tears fall.
“Hammond’s dead,” I say stiffly.
Dean bows his head and shakes it slowly. Lance’s hands tighten into fists. Maybe now he understands my threats against Drake. We had all become good friends with Hammond. He was dedicated and talented, creative to the point of brilliance, and funnier than anyone I know. Dean and Lance turn away wordlessly and move to help Hope with Drake. Braden is still standing in the same place, staring at nothing. The hand that was pressed against his bleeding head a moment ago has fallen slack at his side, dripping blood on the carpet.
“Milo was right,” he says quietly, “I never should have come. I’m a liability, Libby. It’s my fault Hammond is dead. I caused this. I didn’t have any talents to stop him from manipulating me. I didn’t even know he was doing it. I killed Hammond.”
I grab his chin and force him to look at me. “Stop it, Braden. This isn’t your fault. It isn’t even Drake’s, not directly anyway. He was trying to get either me or him. I don’t think he cared which. Hammond just tried to help me and touched the barb. It was an accident.”
“An accident that never would have happened if I hadn’t been standing there with a gun to Drake’s head. If I’d been able to block him, I would have captured him and none of this would have happened,” Braden argues.
“None of us had any substantial talents,
Braden. He could have done it to anyone. You were just the first to get to him, which is incredible anyway. We’d probably all be dead if it weren’t for you. When that blast of interference hit us, we were all on the floor. It took me forever to get up. You held the Seekers off until we could all get back on our feet. Without you, we would have been plucked up one by one and had our throats slit,” I say. “Please don’t blame yourself for Hammond. It wasn’t your fault. He knew the risks of coming on this mission. We all did.”
The sound of Kayla’s sobbing drifts through the door and Braden flinches. I take his hand and pull him after me. Dean and Hope are dragging a very tightly bound Drake down the hallway, and I’m surprised to find Milo and Daniel coming toward us. They must have heard the struggling and crying. They take in Hammond’s body and slow. Daniel’s weathered face falls and his hands start shaking. He’s known Hammond longer than any of us. Milo looks taken aback as well, but his reaction is nothing like Daniel’s. His eyes snap to Braden without anyone having to tell him what happened.
“I told you it was a mistake to bring him!” His whole body tightens in fury. “Look at what’s happened because of him. You never should have let him come!”
I can’t stop myself. I thrust an accusing finger at him and say, “If you’d let Celia come, she might have been able to save his life! She’s the best healer we have and you refused to let her help. Don’t start blaming other people when you’re just as much at fault.”
He steps forward, the threat clear in his expression. Dean and Daniel cut him off immediately, but Daniel’s gentle voice is what really holds him back.
“Milo, Libby, we need to get out of here. The guards we left alive are going to wake up and start causing problems.”
Everyone looks down at Hammond. The sight of his body, blood dribbling down the side of his mouth, stifles some of Milo’s anger. He makes a sudden move forward to help carry him. Kayla is too upset to do anything, right now. Someone may have to carry her, as well. I stoop to help pick up Hammond’s body, but Braden stops me.
Darkening Chaos: Book Three of The Destroyer Trilogy Page 20