Make Mine a Marine

by Julie Miller

  And then it was gone.

  BJ knew it had been vanquished. The good in Brodie had triumphed over Damon's evil.

  Still on his knees, with his head bowed over, Brodie looked down at his hands. They rested, palms up, on his thighs. BJ followed his gaze and saw the newest scars etched indelibly there. In the center of one palm, a red, puckered circle. In the other, a charred round emblem slashed in two by a jagged lightning bolt.

  BJ went to him, brushing his hands out of his vision and taking their place. She hugged him tightly, rubbing her soft cheek against his hard one. Then she turned and pressed a kiss to that cheek. Against the newest scar on his brow. And finally, she opened her lips over his, loving him with every bit of strength she possessed.

  “I am so sorry. I should have believed you. I should never have hurt you.”

  Suddenly, he came to his senses, crushing her in his arms, silencing her apology with his kiss. “Don't, sweetheart,” he growled between kisses. “Don't blame yourself for any of this.”

  “Isn't this touching.” Damon's dry voice shocked them both. Brodie stood up, pulling BJ with him, positioning his body as a shield between her and Damon.

  “Your power is gone, sorcerer.”

  BJ clung to Brodie's waist while she peeked around his bicep. Damon's evil smile encompassed them both. He crossed his arms over his chest in a smug pose of arrogance.

  “You've destroyed the ring, that's true. But I am still immortal. And so, dear warrior, are you.”

  Brodie's muscles jerked beneath her hands.

  BJ rushed to protect him. “You can't control me anymore, Damon. You can't control Brodie, either.”

  Damon clicked his tongue. “There are ways besides magic to control a man, Bridget.”

  She steeled herself against the mind shadows that never came. She was truly free of Damon's spell.

  But not Damon's evil.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  Brodie answered instead. “He's made my existence a living hell for centuries. I'm guessing he plans to keep on punishing me.”

  Damon clapped his hands together. “I see my pupil's intelligence has rubbed off on you, warrior. You took away everything I loved in that dungeon. You murdered an innocent that day. I see no reason to stop punishing you now.”

  Brodie's shoulders sagged, and BJ realized that he had accepted defeat.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Brodie, no.”

  BJ tugged on his arm, turning him to face her. She cupped his jaw in her hands and tilted his head down toward hers. His guilt-riddled features nearly broke her heart.

  “Don't listen to him.” She shook him, trying to rekindle his hope. “You are not a murderer. You've paid for whatever crime you committed a hundred times over.”

  “I killed her, Beej. I can't deny that.” He pulled her hands from his face, but she fought to keep loving contact with him.

  “In battle? Accidentally? It was a tragedy, yes, but you don't deserve to suffer any longer.” She latched onto the rough lapel of his jacket, then burrowed her hand beneath to the soft cotton covering his heart. “You are a kind-hearted, honorable man. You deserve a better fate.”

  She could see when the understanding hit him. His frown deepened, his eyes sparked with a fearful light. “I won't let you do this.”

  BJ grew strong in her resolve. Strong enough for both of them. “It's my choice. It has to be my choice.”

  “No!”

  BJ pulled away from him and faced Damon. He had smoothed his silvery hair back into place. His self-importance was stamped onto his features once more. He eyed her calmly, but curiously.

  “You're bound to release Brodie if the person he loves sacrifices herself willingly?”

  Damon never blinked. “Yes.”

  “You can't change your mind?”

  “No. The spell has been cast.”

  “Brodie's been alive for eight centuries. Hasn't he ever loved anyone before me? Surely someone else has tried to save him.”

  This time Damon looked over the top of her head to Brodie. “I killed them all before they had the chance.”

  Brodie's pain-filled gasp brought tears to her eyes. The enormity of what Damon must have done stunned her. Brodie sagged onto an overturned desk, and dropped his face into his hands. She wiped away the useless tears with the back of her knuckles, wrapped an arm around Brodie's shoulders and smoothed her hand across his hair.

  “All of them?” Brodie's rasp carried past her to Damon.

  “I was the patient from whom your wife, Clarinda, contracted consumption. A particularly virulent strain she shared with her sons.”

  “Lynelle?”

  “Tripped her horse on the moors. I created the storm that downed the airplane Jane piloted. I fired the bullet that killed Zora. I was the one she confessed to. I let her go so you could watch her die.”

  Brodie's shoulders shook with untold grief. BJ pressed a kiss to his temple, holding him tightly, loving him with an emotion that was pure and profound.

  She knew what she must do next.

  She pulled away from Brodie, tipping up his chin to capture his gaze and let him read her intent. “This has to stop.”

  “No.”

  Ignoring his plea, she turned to Damon once more. “Your mighty institute is crumbling down around us, Damon. But your death chambers are intact. I checked the systems. They're still operational.”

  “You can't. I won’t let you.” Damon reached for her, but she jerked away, repelled by his touch.

  She dodged Brodie's hands as well, crossing to the main console. She flipped on the power feed to the chambers and listened to the rising hum of power through the connecting cables.

  “So there will be no question that this is a willing sacrifice, I'm activating the execution program myself.”

  Brodie reached around her from behind, pulling her away from the console. His fingers bit roughly into her arms, shaking her. “I'm not worth it. Nothing is worth your dying.”

  He pierced Damon with a desperate glare. “Damn it, sorcerer! Stop her.”

  “I’d have to kill her to do it.” The irony wasn’t lost on any of them. Damon moved to the front of the console to face her. “Bridget, don't be foolish. Your talents are too great to waste.”

  “I'm not listening to you anymore.”

  “Stay with me. I can erase all that's happened. I can make you happy again.”

  “Happy?” She shook her head, amazed at Damon's total lack of human compassion. “How could I be happy knowing Brodie's still living in the hell you sentenced him to?”

  He straightened. “If you make him mortal, I'll kill him. You'll both be dead, and you will have sacrificed yourself for nothing.”

  She wavered a moment after Damon's threat.

  But Brodie remained steadfast, resolute. He turned her in his arms, hunching down to look her straight in the eye. “There's no point in living if you're gone. Don't throw away your life on me.”

  Seeing the despair in his eyes, BJ grew implacable, loving him for protecting her, counting on him to remain true to his noble character. He loosened his grip and narrowed his gaze, trying to understand the silent message she sent him.

  She gently caressed his damaged cheek. “Trust me, big guy. I'm doing this.”

  He reluctantly released her, and she knew he would not betray her.

  BJ turned back to the console and completed entering the program. With the men frozen in shock and grief on either side of her, she mouthed a silent prayer and typed in the code to her own final subroutine.

  S-E-C-O-N-D C-H-A-N-C-E.

  “He deserves one,” she whispered, and hit ENTER.

  She walked to the first chamber and opened the door. A sterile, metallic smell stung her nose, giving her a moment's hesitation. But she wouldn't falter.

  Brodie joined her, big and strong and, in her eyes, incredibly handsome. “Promise me that no matter what, you won't stop the program. No matter what happens to me, you won
't touch the computer or open the chamber until the program is complete. Promise me.”

  He caught her up in his arms, lifting her clear off the floor, crushing her in his embrace. His mouth hungrily sought hers, begging her, forgiving her. BJ responded with the same fierce ardor, pouring everything she was into this last kiss.

  At last he lifted his mouth and held her tightly. When BJ could breathe again, she whispered in his ear. “If you give me your word, I'll believe it. Promise me you won't try to stop this.”

  Slowly, he let her slide down his chest and stomach until her feet touched the floor. Then he stepped back, his eyes bleak. “I promise.”

  BJ smiled up at him. “I love you.”

  Then she stepped inside the chamber, closing the glass door behind her. She picked up the wires from the switch box on the floor and sat in the cold chair. She unwrapped the electrode cups and placed one on either temple.

  The humming sound increased its pitch and BJ knew the program had engaged. Only then did she look up at the man she loved. Brodie pressed his palms to the glass, never blinking, never taking his gaze from hers.

  He wept.

  How could his world have gone so horribly wrong? Brodie saw BJ smile reassuringly at him. He should be the one doing something for her. He should stop this madness. But she had made him promise to do nothing. It seemed so vitally important to her, such a small thing to give her while she gave her very life for him.

  He tasted his tears in the corner of his mouth, yet he did nothing. Her beautiful smile faltered. Her eyes blinked. She shook her head, trying to remain conscious. He didn't understand how this machine worked, something about bombarding brainwaves, she had said. He only knew it was killing her. Putting her to sleep and leading her quietly to her death.

  And killing him in the process.

  When this thing had run its course, when his sassy, quirky, loving BJ had gone from this world, he'd turn on the machine one more time and join her. He had no reason to live, no reason to celebrate the blessing of a mortal life if he had to bury BJ.

  He watched her beautiful blue-green eyes drift shut for the last time. When she slumped onto the arm of the chair, and gravity carried her on down to the floor, Brodie sank with her. He fell to his knees outside the glass barrier, reaching for her, knowing he'd never touch her warm, sensitive flesh again.

  “Sweetheart,” he whispered, drowned out by the slow, almost imperceptible beep of her vital signs from the computer monitor.

  When the beeping deteriorated into one final, unbroken sound, Brodie tipped his head back and howled his grief and rage at the incredible injustice of BJ's sacrifice.

  “I can't believe she chose you over me. I can't believe she did this.” Damon's smooth voice broke in an uncharacteristic show of emotion.

  Damon was an intrusion on Brodie's grief that barely registered. Knowing that she was gone, Brodie clawed at the door handle, trying to reach her.

  “She said to let it run until the program stopped.” This time Damon's voice sounded firm, cruelly reminding Brodie of his promise. “It's logging her time of death. Verifying a successful execution.”

  Now that he listened, Brodie could hear the machine clicking away, still processing the fatal program. Brodie touched his forehead to the door and kissed the glass. “I love you.”

  The vow came out in a strangled whisper as he finally found the courage to answer her final words.

  He knelt there, utterly bereft, completely devoid of feeling. Numbness seeped into his limbs. Grief choked his heart.

  Damon quickly got over his disbelief. “What a waste. Well, my old enemy. You finally have your mortality. You win.”

  “No.” Brodie's voice crackled in a low rumble. His moist gaze lovingly caressed BJ's lifeless form. The spirit that had breathed life back into his ancient, tortured soul would smile no more. His warrior's heart fell with her. Paralyzed. Shattered.

  “I lose.”

  Silence enfolded him, shrouded him in a hazy, unnatural peace.

  He was only marginally aware of the soft sounds rising in chorus behind him. Something big and heavy screeched across the floor. The computer monitor beeped and the fan on the hard-drive tower spun into motion. The noiseless cables started to hum again.

  Brodie struggled to find awareness. The beeping noise repeated itself and thrummed into his subconscious mind, drawing him into the mortal world.

  Or was he hallucinating? Brodie rubbed his eyes and looked again. BJ's eyelids fluttered like a dreamer in REM sleep. He reached for her, but was thwarted by the glass barrier.

  Her eyes popped open, dazed, squinting to find focus. He wasn't imagining this. They were real.

  “BJ!”

  He twisted the handle and flung open the door, crawling on his knees to reach her. “Sweetheart…”

  Her lips pursed to form a word. But her eyes conveyed the message more quickly.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Damon advancing from behind. Brodie dove to the floor, covering BJ with his body. A steel pipe whistled past his ear and knocked the metal chair off its floor bolts.

  In one swift, sure move, Brodie rolled to his feet and rammed Damon with his shoulder, catching him square in the gut and sending them backward against the computer console. The pipe careened out of Damon's hand and smashed the tower. Sparks flew, igniting Brodie's jacket.

  A fist to Damon's gut winded the older man, giving him a brief reprieve.

  Brodie jerked his arm out of one sleeve. But the other sleeve singed his shoulder. He twisted away from Damon, ripping the flaming material off and tossing it away.

  A kick to his back knocked Brodie to his knees, the pain bruising his kidney and robbing him of breath. Damon picked up the pipe and raised it like a club over Brodie's head. Brodie jerked to one side as it crashed down to the floor, loosing itself from Damon's grip. The jarring momentum toppled Damon off balance, sending him stumbling toward the death chambers.

  BJ had freed herself and was crawling out the open door. She saw Damon headed for her and tucked herself into a ball. Damon tripped over her and fell into the chamber.

  Seizing the opportunity, Brodie lunged at BJ, grabbed her ankle and dragged her out of the way. He kicked the door shut and locked it.

  BJ scrambled past him and pulled herself up in front of the console. She jerked her hand away from the flying sparks. Only now did Brodie realize how loudly the thing hummed, how his jacket charred on a pile of soaked debris, how puddles gathered at their feet while the sprinklers sprayed water over them.

  “I can't shut it off!” BJ shouted over the noise, turning frightened eyes to him. “The electric impulses will flood this entire room. They'll kill all of us if the place doesn't go up on its own first.”

  Damon pounded on the door, his ineffectual curses muffled by the glass.

  Brodie's life had come full circle. This technical fortress falling down around them was not too unlike the inquisitor's dungeon where he’d first met Damon all those years ago. Once again he was faced with the opportunity to destroy his enemy. This time he wouldn't fail. This time, he would keep the innocent safe.

  He pulled the dagger from his belt, his one companion throughout the ages, and jammed it into the door frame, sealing the chamber. He wedged it tightly so that even if Damon broke the lock, he couldn't open the door. And if the screaming madman could break the shatterproof glass somehow… by then, it would be too late.

  “Let's get out of here!”

  He grabbed BJ's hand and ran. He hurdled over the rubble and through the fire door, dragging her behind him. Explosions rocked the stairwell as he dashed down two, then three steps at a time. When BJ stumbled, he pulled her to his side and half-carried her so their pace never slackened.

  Plaster and bits of metal fell on top of them as the explosions built upon themselves, growing closer and closer together as one blast triggered another.

  Brodie and BJ hit the ground floor at a dead run, losing the race with billowing smoke and lapping flames. Steel
and concrete collapsed around them as they ran through the last door into the cooler air of the night outside.

  They ran until they hit the parking lot and passed the circle of fire engines and ambulances lining the curb. Fire fighters and paramedics hurried around them, shouting commands, helping dazed employees who had escaped the burning complex.

  A crowd gathered around them, but Brodie wasn't aware of a single person besides BJ. She fell against him, winded from their run, sucking in big gulps of air. Alive. Blessedly, beautifully alive.

  A paramedic stopped and examined BJ, leaving her with a mask and a small tank of oxygen. Brodie sat on the asphalt and held her in his lap while she breathed the reviving air, rocking her and thanking God that she was safe.

  After several minutes, she removed the mask. “Damon?” she wheezed, “Do you think?”

  He wrapped her more tightly in his arms. “He's gone. I can feel it.”

  Her fingers clutched at his shirt. “But he's immortal.”

  “His prophecy came true. Damon died by his own hand. In a machine, in a complex, that he designed and built. He got caught in his own death chamber.”

  “I helped build it.”

  He loosened his hold at the remorse in her words, and tipped her chin up. “You never shared his evil intent.”

  He followed her gaze to the dying buildings. “It's strange. I don't feel any grief. A little guilt, maybe. But I don't miss him.”

  Brodie thought of some of the deaths he had been responsible for. Even in the heat of battle, even to save another, it always hurt to know he had taken a life. “You may once the shock has worn off. You did love him. Don't feel guilty about that.”

  “It does hurt to lose the man I thought he was.”

  “Which brings up another point.”

  She turned in his lap. “What's that?”

  “I lost you. I watched you die.” Brodie shook with the admission. “How did you come back to me?”

  BJ smiled. Brodie wished he could smile in return. Despite dusty clothes, a soot-smudged face, and wet, debris-caked hair, BJ looked absolutely lovely with that smile.