Forever After (Post Apocalyptic Romance Boxed Set)

by Rose Francis

  Conwynne moved faster than Lucia could see, his arms moving through a dozen different fighting styles in as many seconds. He was like a slideshow of combat, a presentation on the art of war. His sword knew him. He’d lived with the spirits in it for decades. The old man fought like an army, but it wasn’t enough.

  The prince stood beside Lucia, his skin smelling of moonlight. Even now her wolf wanted him, wanted Lucia to take him right there on the floor. “My lady,” he said quietly, “if we all rush at once, we could take her. Fight as a pack.”

  “No,” Lucia said. “I can’t have you throw your life away like that.”

  “We must!” the prince yelled. “This is our only chance!”

  “Go!” Conwynne yelled as he and the witch traded ringing blows, whirling around each other in a tornado of hate. “Destroy the device!”

  Lucia watched the witch fight. She had no glaive spirits aiding her. Her sword was different. Her fighting technique was all her own, but familiar somehow. Could Conwynne defeat her? He was more experienced, but slower. He had the advantage of the glaive spirits, but would it matter when his opponent was also a master? Getting past the witch was impossible. Maybe Conwynne couldn’t see it, but the witch positioned herself so that any attempt to pass her could easily be countered. And her goons waited, grinning like wastelanders betting on a snake fight. Even if they did get past the tornado of blades, the monstrous minions would shove them right back into the witch’s meat grinder.

  There had to be another way.

  Her human side urged caution, it wanted to wait to see Conwynne defeat the witch.

  Her wolf wanted to charge in howling, the pack at its sides, to tear all her enemies to bits.

  Neither tactic felt right.

  What would Farid do? The pirate was sneaky, what her uncle would have called a “sideways thinker.”

  Lucia scanned the room, looking for what she had missed. Her eyes fell on the whirling gears, the rotating mirrors, the way the alpha spawn avoided getting near that red crystal. A plan came to her in an instant.

  “Foxtail,” Lucia whispered, “can you get us to the power room?”

  “Course I can,” the shifter bristled.

  “Make yourself ready. We have to do this quickly.”

  Reaching out through the bonds of pack, Lucia harnessed their attention. There may be a better way, she sent to them, her bones aching with the effort of the mind-speech. But as soon as we leave this room the entire mob of alpha spawn will rush us. We need to hold them off. Can you do that?

  Without meeting her eyes, the soldiers nodded and flexed their clawed hands.

  Lucia reached out and tapped the two closest to her—Postie and the prince—on the shoulders, then she turned and ran from the room, down the ramp, Foxtail huffing along at her side.

  Conwynne bellowed as she fled, “Get back here you coward!” Lucia’s heart ached. Was she leaving him to die, or trying to save him by stopping the weapon the only way she could? What if the witch killed him and he died thinking she abandoned him? Could she live with that? The question was moot, because if she didn’t destroy the machine she wouldn’t live anyways.

  Lucia slipped in the blood on the ramp, tumbling down gracelessly, smearing herself in the bodies of the fallen red jackets. Foxtail, nimble as ever, made it down with her pride intact. The prince and Postie, too, ended up letting gravity carry them down.

  Through the pack link, Lucia felt her soldiers begin to fall. Either the witch had destroyed Conwynne and turned on them, or the alpha spawn had joined the fight.

  “Which way?” she growled at Foxtail. The woman didn’t answer, just ran as fast as her legs could carry her, leaping down halls, smashing through doors, hurtling over tables with red jackets still sitting at them. She was a fluffy-tailed cannonball aimed directly at the power source.

  Lucia’s plan came to her when she’d seen the gears and mirrors. Why did they need to keep turning? Why not just leave them in place until the weapon was needed? She knew from her uncle’s mine that keeping machines running without stop lead to failure and breakdown. Nothing lasted forever. People needed sleep. Machines needed maintenance. And an Empire always fell.

  There must be a reason they never stopped rotating. Lucia wanted to find out what that reason was, and what better way than to smash the engines that powered all those spinning gears?

  Following Foxtail, but fighting every second not to lose sight of the woman, Lucia charged through the rooms and halls like a rockslide. There was no time for stealth or sneaking, no time even to bellow a warning as she ripped through offices and bath chambers. Foxtail’s sense of direction, of pathfinding, was beyond keen. It was supernatural. Lucia understood as she watched the fluffy-tailed, scowling woman leap through a dining room, her feet tapping against the helmeted heads of a dozen red jackets as she passed, that she had a true gift. Could all fox shifters do this, or was Foxtail extra special?

  Behind Lucia, Prince Joaquin and Postie roared. They couldn’t keep her in sight, let alone Foxtail. They followed Lucia’s trail of broken doors, toppled tables, and outraged red jackets, pausing to cut every throat they saw.

  Soon they came to the center of the pyramid, several floors down from where the Witch and her spawn were snuffing out the lives of her pack. A steel door, round and riveted, stood before them. Wrapped in chains of silver, the door looked daunting. The walls on either side curved upwards and downwards, as if the central power room was a large sphere. A sphere buried in a maze held aloft in a floating pyramid—nothing about this felt good to Lucia.

  The chains fell away with one strike of her glaive. Some of the pack still lived, still fought. If she ended this now, could she save them? Prince Joaquin jumped forward and grasped the lever with both hands he braced his feet against the door jamb and strained at the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s like it’s welded shut, my lady,” he whined, panic rising in his voice. He could feel it, too, Lucia knew. The severing of the pack bonds. If they came all this way just to die—no, she couldn’t let herself think that way.

  Instead, she placed her hands on the prince’s back and concentrated on their bond. She didn’t know the man, not really, but she could feel his heart. He was strong and loyal, quick to dismiss a bad idea and quick to trust a good one. She didn’t know him, but he was pack and she could help him. Lucia forced her own strength to flow through into the shifter. It felt like crying, like laughing. It was joyous and a relief all at once.

  Prince Joaquin swelled with the gift she’d given him, his muscles rippling and shifting to take on the task at hand. He strained at the lever, the metal groaning deep within the door, his body building new muscle mass every second until finally, with a shriek, the lever moved and the door swung open.

  The prince stood panting, his body was now enormous. Easily over seven feet tall and wider than the door, he shone with an inner light. “Thank you, my alpha,” he rumbled, bowing before her. Lucia’s heart fluttered in her chest. He is mine now. This one belongs to me. I have shared my essence with him and marked him forever. She didn’t know what it would mean tomorrow or the next day, but for now it felt good.

  Lucia was weakened from sharing her gifts with the prince, but not as weak as she’d expected. How often could she perform that trick? How long would it last? Joaquin’s transformation had a sense of permanency about it, she could feel herself rewriting his body, reshaping him for the task at hand. Could all alphas do this? Mold their pack like clay? Somehow she didn’t think so. In all the old stories of the alpha knights, she’d never heard of such a gift. No matter. There would either be time for such concerns tomorrow, or never again.

  Joaquin pulled the door wide. A belly-twisting thrum echoed from the chamber beyond. It was a deep low rhythmic pulsing, almost like a heartbeat. Lucia stepped in and saw a machine, several stories tall with a cylindrical shaft running the length of it. It was spinning so fast that it looked like only a blur of copper. Alongside the rotating shaft stood mo
untains of pipes and wires and nearer the door were low consoles with switches and dials and blinking lights.

  Lucia knew machines from the baron’s mine, but this was something altogether more complex.

  “What is this?” The prince gasped.

  “Makes my skin itch, is what,” Postie growled, refusing to enter the room.

  Foxtail strode forward, leaned over the banks of consoles. “Old. Very old. Technology from the before times,” she muttered. The fox woman tapped at a screen and frowned at what she saw. “They called this a magnetic reactor. Never actually seen one before. Or heard of it.”

  “That’s rare,” the prince said in appreciation. Lucia had forgotten the two knew each other, forgotten that Foxtail was loyal to the Prince. She felt momentarily jealous, but shook it off. It was no time for such dark thoughts.

  “Can you stop it? Destroy it?” Lucia asked. “Without this, the witch cannot fire the weapon, yes?”

  “Oh yes,” Foxtail nodded. “This is the power source. They channel this through that shifter crystal up top and it sucks the life from whoever is in the way.”

  “My people,” the prince growled.

  “My friends,” Postie agreed, his voice venomous.

  “So do it, Foxtail! Break the damn thing.” Lucia barked.

  The old woman sighed. “Engine is the only thing holding us up. We break this, we fall. Whole ship falls. Everyone dies.”

  A silence hung in the air between them. Lucia could feel another life of the pack vanish from upstairs, though dimly. The reactor chamber blocked her senses.

  “We have no choice,” Lucia said, meeting the eyes of her pack one by one. “If we don’t destroy this, the Suzerain and his witch will kill or subjugate every last soul in the wasteland. If we do destroy it, the Suzerain still might. But he’ll have to work a lot harder for it.” She took a deep breath and put a hand on Foxtail’s shoulders. “What say you? Should we make it hard for him? Should we break his infernal machine so that the ones we love who are safely far away might live another day, another year?”

  Farid, Lucia thought, you better appreciate this.

  “I’ll do it for Triptongue,” Foxtail nodded.

  “I have sisters in Sala City,” Postie said, her voice choking up. “I have seventeen nieces, if you can believe it. I’d love to see them again some day, but if that ain’t gonna happen, I’ll settle for them not having their life sucked out by a fucking magic statue.”

  The prince was quiet. Everyone looked to him, waiting an answer.

  “This is a false choice, my alpha. There is nothing we can do but tear at the witch’s throat with our dying movements.” He bowed his head and said, “End this.”

  Foxtail bent her head in response and went to work, tapping the screens and adjusting dials. Within seconds she said, “It’s done. Just need to turn the key.” The fox shifter nodded at Lucia’s chest, where the amulet hung.

  “I’ll do it,” Lucia said. “The rest of you try and make your way to the hanger. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can find a glider or an airship to fly out of here.”

  None of her friends moved. Resolutely they stood, watching her.

  “Go!” she roared, putting her alpha gifts into the sound.

  But even then, they stayed.

  “Begging your pardon, my lady,” Prince Joaquin said, “but you’re coming, too.”

  “We are pack,” Foxtail said.

  “We go as one,” Postie agreed.

  “Bloody idiots,” Lucia muttered, but her heart soared. If she was going to die, what better way was there? In Farid’s bed, at the age of a hundred and one, but barring that, this is a good way to go. She lifted the amulet from her neck and slid it into a thin slot at the edge of the console. Foxtail tapped the screen one more time, and then the reactor began to speed up. The pitch of its spinning thrum increased, drifting upwards, until it was a mosquito-like whine. Arcs of electricity like lightning bled from the reactor, throwing sparks and smoke wherever they landed.

  “Foxtail,” Lucia said, “lead the way.”

  Chapter 15

  Earth’s Cruel Embrace

  The Warmaw echoed with the sounds of panic. The great ship listed heavily to one side, turning the twisting hallways into slides and jagged corners into spine-shattering traps. As Foxtail lead the remains of the pack to the lowest levels of the ship, the red jackets flailed and cried out for mercy.

  The ship was not plummeting yet. The sabotage had merely disrupted the smooth flight, but the air was oddly charged now. Lucia’s hair and fur stood on end, then moved as if tugged by some unseen force in the direction of the reactor. Her eyes stung. An acrid smoke that smelled like tires on fire seeped from the walls.

  “It’s all falling apart,” the prince marveled.

  “Falling down soon, too,” Foxtail agreed.

  As they slipped and skidded down the tilting halls, the prince turned to Lucia. “Lady alpha, if we do not make it any farther than this today, I wish to tell you I am deeply honored to have aided in the destruction of this battle station. All my life I have seen the Suzerain’s boot crush those who could not defend themselves an even some who could. This is the greatest blow he has ever suffered. It will give people hope.” His eyes shone with pride and Lucia’s wolf howled for him under her skin.

  Sharing her power with Joaquin had only made their connection stronger, her wolf harder to resist. A very loud part of her wanted to take him, claim him, and mate with him at the earliest opportunity. He was hers now, her pack and her creation.

  The Warmaw shuddered and tipped again. A loud explosion sounded from deep in the ship.

  “Hold on to something,” Foxtail grunted as the floor fell away from their feet.

  The ship had tilted fully to one side now, one of the pyramid points now facing downwards. Lucia and her pack clung to door jambs, to joists, to pipes. The edge of the ship was only fifty yards ahead of them, but instead of being a straight run it was now a sheer climb.

  “If we climb,” Lucia shouted, “we could crawl onto the face of the pyramid.”

  “Bad idea,” Foxtail said.

  “What if she shifts again, boss? We’ll be tossed off into the air.” Postie added.

  “You have a better idea?”

  No one did, so on Lucia’s orders the prince used his new strength to claw handholds into the walls. The beams and plumbing inside the walls becoming a makeshift ladder to climb.

  Another explosion sounded from somewhere near the reactor and the pyramid began to spin on its axis. Rotating slowly, but perceptibly speeding up.

  Lucia tried not to look up. Or down. She just put one foot in front of the other, focused on the next hand hold, and followed the prince as he smashed a path for them. Once, near the top, a red jacket came sliding out of a curved hallway, screaming and blubbering like a sheep at slaughter. He plummeted past Lucia, past Foxtail, crashing into Postie before falling the hundreds of feet down to whatever hard surface took his life, his cries ending all at once with a meaty thud. Postie held on, but looked dazed from the impact.

  When Prince Joaquin smashed through the final wall, the sunlight that penetrated the shaft blinded Lucia. How long had it been since she’d seen the sun. A day? It felt like months. She followed his path and pulled herself onto the face of the pyramid. The world spun around them queasily.

  On all sides the wasteland stretched it’s rocky jaws and waited. It was impossible to tell north from south but on one side jagged brown mountains loomed and on all others waited the burning sands of the wasteland. Even if she could somehow jump down and survive without shattering every bone in her body, there was no water, no food for twenty miles. No one could survive this place.

  Foxtail and Postie pulled themselves up through the hole.

  Postie sat down and hid her eyes in her hands. “Permission to be sick, sir?” she said to Joaquin.

  “Permission denied, soldier. Get your ass up and help us figure out a way to survive this.”

  Foxta
il walked out along the wide flat surface of the pyramid. Their floor had once been one of the massive sides of the Warmaw. “Losing altitude,” she said.

  “What’s that mean for us?” Lucia asked.

  “When we hit the ground, we’re going to be like a drill bit digging into stone.” Foxtail made a hand gesture like a spinning drill slamming into something hard and flat, then exploding.

  A shadow passed over them. Lucia glanced up, to see what it was, but the sun blinded her.

  “What do we do?” she asked. “How do we survive this?”

  From deep within the battle station, a groaning sounded as the magnetic reactor finally decided it’d had enough of this gravity thing and decided to loose itself upon the world. The spinning copper cylinder ripped itself from its moorings and fired itself like a four-story arrow from the top of the pyramid. One of the ends of the pyramid—the one Lucia had decided was north—shuddered and erupted like a volcano, the copper cylinder smashing the stone to pieces on its path of destruction. The magnetic core continued its path across the wastes, trailing smoke and lightning behind it, an arc of smoldering potential tracking its path through the sky.

  Without the power core, the Warmaw dropped like a stone towards the wasteland. Lucia and her pack dug their claws into the stone face of the ship, holding on for dear life as the spinning pyramid shuddered and tipped and fell.

  A shadow passed over again, closer this time. Larger. Lucia sensed her pack—the larger pack nearby.

  Glancing up, she saw the Letherine silhouetted against the bright sun. Two patchwork zeppelin balloons had sprouted from the ship’s back.

  It’s an airship, Lucia realized. So much of the odd compartments and cargo Farid had been squirreling away made sense now. He wasn’t a crazy packrat, he’d been building a ship that could fly or sail.

  The shadow passed closer again. Dangling from the underside of the Letherine, Quinn the mutt snatched Foxtail up in his strong arms. A thick harness held him aloft and he attached a smaller version around the fox woman’s waist. The ship was circling them, trying to grab them all before the Warmaw impacted the ground.