by CJ Brightley
“Understood,” Owen said. “Thank you.”
Another burst of gunfire from inside the building, longer this time.
“Benjamin’s squad is coming out. Cover now.” Owen said, his voice composed.
“Time is short. Where are you, Owen?” Gabriel said.
A group of soldiers sprinted around the corner and Aria’s heart dropped into her stomach.
The gunfire was even more terrifying as the shots rang out in the cold air rather than only through her headset. Dominic’s squad fired at them, and one dropped, but the others found cover in the recessed doorway and began to fire on Benjamin’s squad and the Fae they were helping across the lawn.
One of them fell; Aria couldn’t tell who, but he lay there for a long moment unmoving. The Fae sprawled across him didn’t move either.
Aria’s nerves abruptly stilled as she lined up her shot. The soldiers had cover from Dominic’s squad, but she could see them clearly from her vantage point.
Chapter Ten
She aimed for their heads, as Evrial had taught her. They were wearing body armor, and a body shot might not even incapacitate them.
Her heart pounded, her throat tight with fear. She could feel herself shaking, but her shots were good. She would deal with the horror of killing later.
The fallen human, whoever it was, twitched. She shot again, though she didn’t have a clear shot at the soldier she was aiming for. At least she could make him keep his head down. The man staggered to his feet and dragged the Fae with him in a stumbling run toward the gate. Niall darted forward and all three made it into the sheltering darkness.
“Owen, where are you?” Gabriel’s voice came again. “Get out of there. More coming.”
“Lots more.” Dominic’s voice sounded strained.
A loud clang sounded, and Aria looked back at the front gate. Between the two ends of the perimeter wall, a metal wall had materialized.
Dominic cursed. “Front gate is out of commission. Repeat, front gate out. Go to the back.”
Aria stared at the gate. Thirty feet high, the metal gate looked heavy enough to withstand a bomb attack. “Where did that come from?” she breathed.
“Later.” Dominic’s answer was terse, but she hadn’t expected an answer at all. “Moving to the back wall.”
Aria debated, but decided she’d be of little use on the ground in back outside the perimeter wall, unable to see or shoot. Instead, she clambered onto the top of the wall, scraping her stomach and arms in the process. Owen had made it look easy, but she felt clumsy and exposed. On her hands and knees, she hurried toward the rear of the compound.
Jonah’s voice came over the headset. “My squad is heading to the back wall. We’ll need help getting up the ropes.”
“Understood.” Gabriel and Geoffrey said together.
Aria continued crawling. More gunfire crackled over the headset. Was anyone hurt?
Owen’s voice finally came. “Three down inside. Need assistance at the back door.”
Aria didn’t know what she could do, and she didn’t have a vest. Should she go?
“Assistance coming,” Gabriel said.
The lights were brighter here, even more floodlights flaring out across the lawn and edging the concrete wall. Crawling was terribly slow, and she rose to a crouch and ran. The height made her nervous, but her heart was already pounding so loudly that she ignored the trembling in her knees in favor of reaching the back wall sooner.
A door she hadn’t seen before opened and figures streamed out. She couldn’t identify all of them, but she saw Owen’s lean form, without a vest, sprinting across the lawn with someone in his arms.
Gunfire cracked again, but she couldn’t see where it came from.
Inside?
Geoffrey’s team was hauling both Fae and teammates across the lawn. Aria saw a muzzle flash at a second-floor window and sighted toward it. She couldn’t actually see her target, but she shot anyway.
Owen disappeared back into the building. “Niall, heal the humans. Bartok first.” He was breathing heavily. Is he injured, too?
Aria reached Gabriel and Geoffrey’s squad ranged along the top of the back wall. Gabriel was closest to her; he whipped his pistol up at her face before he recognized her.
Niall was already below her on the ground, bent over Bartok’s limp form.
Inside, more guns roared. “Owen, where are you?” Gabriel barked.
“Coming.” His microphone crackled, and she heard him grunt.
“Squad leaders, check in.”
“A all clear except Bartok.” Evrial’s voice.
“B all clear. Bartok clear.” Geoffrey’s voice.
Another figure hurried across the lawn, a limp form slung across its shoulders in a dead man’s carry. Just to the right of Aria, Gabriel crawled halfway down a rope ladder to help them up.
“This is Jonah. I think C squad is all clear except for me.”
“Confirmed.”
Silence.
“D squad? Call in.”
Silence.
“All clear. Benjamin is injured, but he’ll live.” Geoffrey’s voice again.
“E all clear.”
Gabriel’s voice again. “Geoffrey, Dominic, Niall, and I will stay to provide cover. Everyone else, mission over, retreat safely. ”
Aria didn’t move. Niall had scaled the wall somehow and was perched between Geoffrey and Gabriel, pistol ready. The door cracked open again.
An explosion boomed from behind the door, blasting it open with a flash of fire and smoke. Aria couldn’t see inside the smoke-filled hallway, but the glow told her fire still burned.
“Need help just inside the door.” Owen’s voice was cool. “Niall, not you.”
“I’m coming.” Aria didn’t have time to think. Gabriel was helping someone else up the rope ladder, and Dominic and Geoffrey were farther away. She slid down a rope and sprinted across the grass toward the door.
“No, Aria. You don’t have a vest. Get back.”
She was already nearly to the door, and she pulled her shirt over her face as she stepped inside. The hot, smoky air burned in her throat, and she squinted to see Owen kneeling beside Jonah. Gunshots sounded in the corridor, and she dropped to her stomach beside them.
Jonah struggled to sit up, his chest covered in blood. “What happened?” he croaked. He felt his chest and stared at Owen.
Gabriel’s voice from the headset shouted, “Get out!”
Jonah got to his knees, swaying unsteadily, and Aria realized another figure was slumped beside him. A Fae woman, pale, slim, and beautiful. Her eyes were closed, and blood streaked her clothes. Owen turned to shoot twice through the smoke, then put his hand on her shoulder. She blinked.
“Niamh, you can walk? Get out. All of you.”
The woman’s eyes focused on Owen with sudden intensity. “You can’t go back.”
“Get out!” Owen snarled at her. He rose and sprinted back into the smoke-filled hallway.
Aria heard distant shouts. Soldiers.
The woman pushed herself up the wall, barely able to stand. She glanced at the door, then back down the hallway where Owen had disappeared.
“Come. He’ll be out in a minute.” Jonah pulled her arm. “We need to leave.”
She resisted for a moment, but then swayed, near fainting. Jonah pulled her arm over his shoulders and half-carried her out the door, stumbling himself.
Aria watched them until they reached the wall, then turned her attention back to the corridor. A click above her startled her so badly she nearly dropped the gun. Suddenly water rained down on her, and she realized the explosions had set off the fire suppression system. The water was icy, and in moments she was drenched, her sweater heavy as it sucked the warmth from her. It dissipated the smoke, but she couldn’t see much through the spraying water. The headset didn’t seem affected, but she wasn’t sure what effect it would have on her gun.
She couldn’t leave, not while Owen was still inside. “I’m still
here,” she murmured into the headset. “Is everyone else out?”
After a long moment, she heard Gabriel answer, “Yes.” She heard grunts and strained breaths as they hauled bodies up the rope ladder. Then Gabriel again, “Get them away. The farther away they are, the better.”
An explosion sounded again, just around the intersection in the hallway, and a storm of bullets tore holes in the wall at the end. Aria could barely hear the crackle of the headset over the pounding of her heart, but she stayed in place, pistol trained toward the end of the hall, and waited for Owen to confirm that he was still alive.
Silence.
Then he materialized out of the smoke and water-filled chaos, half-dragging a young man. A Fae.
“Get out, Aria. Run.” He stumbled and fell to his knees, the Fae on his back nearly tumbling off. He turned and shot again, then stuffed the gun in his belt. He remained on hands and knees for a long moment, chest heaving. She could hear his breaths beside her and also through the headset, creating a disorienting stereo as she watched him. He was covered in blood; it was hard to see against his black shirt, but the water dripped down his arms in crimson streaks. His black curls were plastered to his head. He’d been shot. She didn’t want to count how many times. Five? Six?
“Take him to the wall. I’ll follow you.”
She struggled to lift the heavier Fae. He was younger than Owen and terribly thin, but still heavier than she was. She got one of his lean arms across her shoulders and wrapped her other arm around his bony hip by the time Owen pushed himself to his feet.
“Can you make it?” Owen asked. “I’ll help you.”
“Yes.”
“Go.” He carried most of the young Fae’s weight, matching her step for step.
Gunshots cracked behind them, but for a moment, Aria thought they might make it.
Then she was facedown in the grass, unable to breathe for the shocking pain.
I’ve been shot. So this is what it feels like when you die. I thought it would be peaceful, but it’s not at all. Feels like a hot poker.
She felt cool hands on her back and shoulder, and the pain lessened. Owen.
He lifted her and sprinted. “Need a rope in the corner.” Blood from his chest smeared her face.
“Got it.”
Gunshots. He stumbled, then leapt upward, grabbing the rope with one hand even as he shifted her to lean against his shoulder. The wall was nearly thirty feet high, and he climbed hand over hand, one foot braced against each wall. Aria jostled against him, too weak to help, too aware to not be terrified. Searchlights flared, sweeping across the wall toward them
More gunshots. Owen grunted and faltered for a moment, grip slipping, before surging upward again. “Gabriel, catch her.”
“Coming.”
Gabriel caught her arm with one strong hand and hauled her upward, his fingers digging into her bicep.
Owen’s voice in the headset. “Everyone get out.”
The searchlights found them, and guns roared.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Owen fall. His hand brushed against her shoe.
He sprawled motionless on the ground, pale face turned upward.
“You have to get him!” Her voice rose in panic.
More gunfire. His body jerked.
Gabriel pulled her backward and forced her down the rope ladder on the outside of the wall, hand on her shoulder. His voice was in her ears, through the headset and in her other ear as he bent close, running beside her. “We can’t do anything. He wants you away.”
She strained to hear through the headset, anything that would let her know he was alive. Gunshots. Muffled shouting. A crunch, then silence.
Gabriel kept one hand firmly on her upper arm as he dragged her away. He pulled off her headset and took off his own as well. Aria shuddered, weeping, unaware of the tears streaking down her cheeks.
Chapter Eleven
The conference room was too small for the group, so they were ranged in rows in the old theater, seated on the cool concrete floor. Aria was in shock, trying to listen. Remember their names.
Owen’s figure wouldn’t leave her mind. Bloodied and motionless, he’d lain there, helpless, while she and the others fled to safety. It was wrong. Her heart cried out against it. He’d healed her with the strength he should have used to flee. Healed the Fae woman. Healed Jonah. He’d told her to go and she’d refused, trying to be helpful. Heroic. And then she’d been shot, and he’d chosen to save her life.
He chose to. He had a choice, she reminded herself. But he didn’t. Knowing him, he didn’t have a choice.
Niall had healed her completely once they’d retreated to the relative safety of the hotel. The wounds had still been bleeding when Gabriel had pulled her away, but they were superficial, hardly life-threatening. Niall’s additional healing had left her with smooth, unmarked skin and no pain, except for that in her heart. He’d completed Jonah’s healing as well. Owen had been desperate, giving them enough to escape, saving his strength for the next emergency.
He’d been wise. Everyone but him had made it out.
The Fae sat in a silent group to one side, with the humans facing them. Gabriel and Aria sat in what might have been the heads of the table, if a table had been between them. Niall sat between the Fae woman and Aria, a wordless, trembling bridge between them.
Gabriel spoke quietly, but in the silence his voice carried. “We have little knowledge of Fae. I can plead only ignorance in the face of your accusations. We have never been friendly, I admit it, but we had no knowledge of their crimes and we do not condone them. Your cause is just.”
The Fae stared at him coolly without speaking. Finally, one said, “Who are you?”
Gabriel smiled tightly, “My name is Gabriel. We are the human resistance against the Empire. We have our own grievances, and our causes align. We did not realize it at first, but we understand more now.”
Niamh’s eyes flicked to Aria. “Who is she?”
“I’m Aria.” She tried to smile, but felt tears spring to her eyes.
Niamh stared at her, watched her as she brushed unsuccessfully at them.
“Owen was captured because of you.” The words were soft, with a tone of both accusation and interest. “And Cillian saved.”
Aria swallowed.
The young Fae was Cillian, Owen’s younger brother? No wonder he’d been unwilling to leave him behind.
Cillian leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his blue eyes on her face so intently that she dropped her gaze. He said something in Fae that might have been a question, and Niamh answered just as softly. They sounded perplexed.
Niamh said finally, “We thank you for your efforts on our behalf. We will move on when we have the strength. Tomorrow, perhaps. In the meantime, Cillian will kill any vertril that become a problem.” Her tone was one of dismissal. The Fae rose as one, graceful despite their obvious weakness, and retreated to their rooms. Niall motioned to Aria to accompany them, but when Gabriel started to follow, Niall gave him a cool look and shook his head. He was not invited.
The Fae were already seated in a rough circle when she slipped into the room. Several lamps turned down low set on boxes in the corners provided uneven lighting that made it even more difficult to read their expressions.
Niamh motioned to the floor across from her and Aria sat, trying not to feel nervous.
“Niall said you went to help Owen at the end of the fight. Why?” her voice was clear, but softer than it had been in the theater.
“He requested help, and I was closest.” Aria swallowed.
“You had no bulletproof vest like the other humans.”
“Jonah didn’t have one either.”
Niamh blinked slowly at her, as if her words had not answered the question. Her blue eyes were as cold and clear as Owen’s. Abruptly she said, “He’s my younger brother.”
Aria blinked. “You’re Niall’s mother?”
Niamh nodded once, eyes on Aria’s face.
&nbs
p; Niall had been writing in the notebook and he turned it around so his mother could see. She read, eyes skimming the whole page, and then looked up at Aria again. “Owen has never traded upon his looks, and I doubt he did so with you. If anything, he conceals his beauty, and he is skilled at remaining unnoticed. Why then did you continue following him?”
Aria blinked. “I was curious, I guess. He was acting strangely. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and it’s freezing outside.”
Niamh tilted her head to one side. “You should not have noticed that.”
Aria frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Niamh stared at her for another long moment, then shook her head. “Most humans wouldn’t notice, even when we’re right in front of them. Perhaps you have some Fae blood in you, however slight.” She reached over to draw Owen’s sword from the belt that Niall wore. “May I?”
Aria eyed it. “What are you going to do?”
“A small cut only.”
“I suppose.” Aria held out her hand, trembling a little. Niamh’s hand was cool on hers, and she touched Aria’s fingertip to the blade gently. Aria winced, but almost smiled at herself; she’d had worse paper cuts. Niamh squeezed the end of Aria’s finger to produce a single drop of blood. Then she leaned forward and sucked the blood from Aria’s finger.
Aria jerked her hand away. “Ew!” The sensation was bizarre, discomfiting, personal, invasive, almost erotic in a horrifying way.
Niamh blinked at her with the same faint amusement Aria had seen in Owen’s eyes. Then her expression changed. “Hm.”
“Hm what?”
She spoke in Fae for a moment, studying Aria with renewed interest. Cillian continued to stare at her, and after a long moment, he answered in the same language.
“What?” Aria asked again.
Niamh said, “I believe you have a little Fae blood. It’s distant, but it’s there.” She paused, as if expecting someone else to speak, but no one said anything. “You know nothing of magic, though. Nor have any talents unusual for humans?”
Aria shook her head.
Niamh smiled with a hint of warmth, changing the subject. “These are my people. I am Niamh, eldest of Lord Ailill.” She gestured toward the others. “This is Cillian, second son of Ailill.” Cillian looked much like Owen. Younger, without the faint touch of gray in his hair, but with the same cool gaze and subtle humor in the quirk of his lip. He was gaunt, with dark smudges beneath his eyes, which continued to rest on Aria with an unreadable expression.