The Never Paradox (Chronicles Of Jonathan Tibbs Book 2)

by T. Ellery Hodges

  Finally, he asked himself: What if, Malkier was unlike any other Borealis in history? What if the weakness was unique to him alone?

  His father had done the hardest part: he’d found the right question. It was the son who had seen an answer.

  Douglas had plenty of time fighting the Ferox to get creative; throwing the damn things into a transformer would hardly scrape the top ten of peculiar tactics he’d tried against them. Electricity wasn’t useless—good in a pinch to slow the beasts down, but it had never been a decisive blow. The same had been true for Douglas for that matter. He’d been hit with blows that had made him acquaintances with Portland’s power grid on more than one occasion, and he gotten up and kept fighting.

  The thing was, Douglas and Jonathan may have had an active alien implant, but they didn’t have an iron skeleton. The Ferox had the iron skeleton, but they only carried a portal stone with them into The Never. When Malkier came through the gates, he possessed all three.

  Jonathan knew from basic physiology classes that human biology used the skeleton to regulate its own electrical currents. Any form of life that possessed a metal skeleton would have to regulate their current in a very different manner. Heyer had said that the Borealis never intended for the Ferox to serve as a host for one of their own species, that his brother was the first to ever do so. Malkier, trusting his ancestor’s technology to have considered every weakness, had believed he was putting his consciousness into the most formidable vessel in existence

  What the eldest brother had failed to consider was that the Ferox living today may not be the same as those that had been around the last time the Borealis upgraded their proverbial firmware—that when the brother’s species had died off, the skeleton of the ancestral Ferox may have been made up of far less conductive materials. After all, the Borealis had designed the Ferox to allow only those who survived life and death struggles to breed. This had put constant pressure on how the species evolved—evolution always favoring the traits that better suited males to win a fight.

  Now, Malkier had entered a battleground where the planet’s inhabitant’s primary source of power, electricity, was nearly ubiquitous—a strategic advantage of which Jonathan aimed to give the alien a thorough demonstration. Douglas had seen this weakness bring his opponent down from god-like invincibility to that of an Alpha Ferox, still a serious threat but not an impossible one. What neither could know, was how long a window of vulnerability would last while the alien device struggled to function.

  Jonathan pulled Doomsday toward him as he rammed his good shoulder into Malkier. They crunched into one of the remaining electrical towers, the Alpha’s back bending in the metal frame as the chain’s spiked edge came back into Jonathan’s grip. Blackened eyes focused on the weapon’s point as it was brought down for the throat. A feral ferocity snarled out of the Ferox when its massive claw intercepted Jonathan’s forearm and halted the attack.

  Ends the Storm kills the Echoes.

  The guttural growls became translated thoughts within Jonathan’s head. The Alpha Ferox seemed to grow larger in its rage, instincts reacting to the stimuli of combat as the fluttering yellow light of the Borealis implant in its chest flickered on and off between them.

  Jonathan’s eyes grew wide as he understood. The alien’s device was offline—completely offline.

  The disturbance of the electrical grid had not just disrupted the cloaking of the portal stone and the defenses that made his enemy impervious. Malkier’s consciousness had been taken off line as well. Jonathan was no longer fighting a Borealis, but Ends the Storm.

  The beast’s confusion had not been Malkier’s disbelief at seeing his invincibility fail, but the consciousness of the body’s true owner finding itself awake during a battle inside the Arena. The last time this had happened had been when Ends the Storm found himself standing over the body of Jonathan’s father. Malkier had not feared the towers because he hadn’t known his own weakness. Ends the Storm had been in control once that bolt of lightning struck so many years before.

  Feroxian instincts were taking over as the Alpha Ferox regained its wits. Its neck thickening as blood finished turning its eyes to a solid black.

  Jonathan pressed in with ferocity, bringing Doomsday’s spiked edge down like a dagger, thrusting for his enemy’s neck. The Alpha Ferox moved in response, its forearm meeting Jonathan’s to stop the weapon from hitting its target. Their eyes locked as the creature wavered under Jonathan’s strength—its face darkening with a cunning comprehension.

  Ends the Storm grabbed his injured shoulder with an iron grip that caught Jonathan off guard, the pain wrenching the strength out of him as the Ferox set its feet. The Alpha released the shoulder to thrust a fist into Jonathan’s chest, and the force tore them from one another.

  Jonathan hit the short cement parapet around the roof’s edge, felt the beast charging for him as he heard its battle cry. It leaped, and with no time to get out of its path, Jonathan steadied his forearm up between them. When the weight of the collision hit, the parapet gave way, and they plummeted off the roof into the open air.

  Jonathan reacted on instinct, managing to bring the elbow of his good arm into the vulnerable tissue of the monster’s throbbing neck. The Alpha, jolted by the blow to the pressure point, made no counter when Jonathan grabbed hold of it, yanking down and causing the beast to flip end over end as he kicked into its abdomen, separating the two of them in the air. Ends the Storm’s body crashed through the ground floor of a building across the street, while Jonathan managed to get control of his fall and stick the landing.

  Hitting the ground jarred him and sent pain through his shoulder, and he had to grit his teeth against the feeling. The killer turned, spinning Doomsday back into place around his body as he forced himself toward the hole left by the Alpha. He didn’t know how much time he had to end this—if the Borealis device came back online, there was no chance in hell he’d be able to lure Malkier into the same trap again. This had to end now.

  Jonathan never saw her coming—his eyes and mind were focused on the target. Excruciating pain ripped through him as the blow struck. His shoulder dislocated as he found himself shot into the air. Barreling away, and sensing the distance between him and the enemy growing just as he had been so close. Temporarily overwhelmed by pain, and dumbfounded as to what could have happened, he ricocheted off the narrow walls of an adjacent alley. When he hit a dead end, a dumpster stopped him, its green metal caving in before spitting him back onto the street where he finally rolled to a stop.

  Rylee let Heyer slip from her grasp a moment before her shoulder rammed into Jonathan.

  Her friend shot away, but the collision abruptly slowed her momentum and allowed her to drop into a controlled fall. Rolling head over feet onto the street, Rylee did the best she could to protect her injured leg. The end result was rather graceless by her standards.

  Heyer fared far worse, hitting the sidewalk as though thrown from a speeding car. His body rolled recklessly away from her and she feared he might not survive the tumble in his condition. When he came to a stop, she found herself holding her breath waiting for him to move. It was not a fear she would have believed herself capable of merely a week ago.

  She heard Jonathan crash into a wall on the other side of the street. She grimaced, and grimaced again when the second crash reached her ears. She forced herself to ignore the guilt. She didn’t want to hurt her only friend, but had to believe that even if he didn’t understand, didn’t forgive her in the moments that followed—he wouldn’t remember it in the long run.

  Wobbly and bruised, Heyer finally moved. He struggled onto his hands and knees as she scanned the ground and found Excali-bar lying not far from her on the pavement. The alien had lost his grip on the weapon when he’d tumbled across the ground.

  She crawled to it, her eyes not coming back to Heyer’s until her palm came down on the blackened length of alien steel. He watched her from his knees, blood beginning to trickle down his face from a fresh
gash over his eyebrow. There was pain in his eyes, but it had nothing to do with his injuries, and Rylee had to harden herself against his sympathy.

  She shoved Excali-bar across the pavement, and the alien’s hand came down to stop Jonathan’s weapon before it slid past. They looked at one another one last time. Rylee said nothing, only nodded for him to get on with it. The alien had to use the staff as a crutch, but once he reached his feet, he returned her nod—a slow gesture that lingered a bit too long before he turned away.

  Rylee didn’t linger. She turned to face the gouge in the building beside Jonathan—he must have done something, brought down the cloak Malkier had been using to keep his whereabouts hidden. She could feel their enemy within the darkness. She reached down to her injured leg, where she had tied her rattan into a temporary splint with her belt, and pulled the weapon free. She winced in pain as she stood, and again with each step that took her closer.

  Thoughts and fears went ignored; she singled out only one and left the rest behind her on the sidewalk. This was all she could do to protect him. When she stepped out of the light completely, Rylee found she had no trouble seeing. A soft blue light seemed to move with her eyes as she staggered forwarded. She felt the monster move, heard the sounds of debris falling to the ground and heavy footsteps out beyond where her light would reach. When she came around a corner, she found herself entering a large room. Here, the wreckage lessened, leaving fewer obstacles for her to move around on the injured leg.

  She felt Malkier’s signal circling to get behind her, cutting off the way she’d entered. She spun around to keep the enemy in front of her, and found herself staring at a pane of glass that had somehow remained intact. Cold blue eyes stared back at her, and for a moment she didn’t understand, wondered if Heyer had circled back. Then she recognized that it was her face in the reflection.

  The guttural Feroxian growl came from the darkness a moment before the signal came hurdling toward her.

  “We don’t cease to exist, Rylee,” she whispered before her reflection shattered.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  JONATHAN HEARD A sound like steel striking pavement. It thrummed like a metronome moving slowly closer. He struggled, using his good arm to push himself off the alley floor. Something had hit hard, blindsided him at the worst possible moment, and he’d yet to make any sense of it. He didn’t know if his head could take any more knocks; his world was spinning around him again. He only managed to get his vision clear enough to make out the dark figure when the clanking abruptly stopped in front of him.

  “What did you do?” Jonathan asked.

  He heard the exhaustion, the confusion in his own voice. Jonathan clenched his eyes shut, letting his head bob against his chest as he tried to shake off the last of his disorientation.

  “Old man,” Jonathan said. “You…”

  Jonathan trailed off, shaking his head, disbelief becoming anger. He felt his teeth clenching as he opened enraged eyes. Orange light poured from them as he fixed Heyer in his gaze.

  “You…” he growled. “For your brother!”

  “Jonathan.” Heyer’s voice was faint. “You have to listen to me now.”

  “You stopped me!”

  “Jonathan, look at me,” Heyer said. “I’m in no condition to harm you.”

  Jonathan flinched, his anger softened by confusion as he studied the alien. Heyer was hardly able to stand—was leaning on Excali-bar for support. He was bleeding…

  “Then what…”

  “Rylee,” Heyer said. “She took you out of harm’s way—there was no time to be gentle.”

  Jonathan shook his head in disbelief and began forcing himself to stand. He stumbled as pain darkened the edges of his vision. His arm was out of its socket, limp and useless against his side—but he didn’t have time for pain, didn’t have time to be useless. A memory came to the forefront, told him there were ways. Most required Heyer be able to help him, but that wasn’t an option. Still there was a way—a damn stupid way that was going to hurt like hell and might leave him worse off than he already was… but under the circumstances…

  Jonathan used his good hand to push the bone into position.

  “Jonathan,” Heyer said. “Don’t…”

  Ignoring the alien, he thrust his shoulder into the alley’s wall. It popped into place with the sickening sound of bone grinding against bone. The pain was too much to contain and he roared. His legs went weak, causing him to turn his back to the wall and slump down onto the ground. A desperate silence seemed to fall on the city around him—the pain like a buffer between him and anything else.

  “Stop, Jonathan,” Heyer said. “You’re safe. This will be over soon.”

  He shook his head, the orange fire of his eyes staring at the alien when he opened them. “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” he demanded. “I had him!”

  “No, Jonathan, you only thought you had him,” Heyer said. “Rylee had to make a choice, and she is doing what she must.”

  Ice cold dread hit him. “What did you tell her?”

  “The truth,” Heyer said. “If my brother dies in here, Mankind will start dying in the thousands within hours of our return.”

  He didn’t remember deciding, or how he’d gotten off the alley floor, only that he had the alien by the collar of his shirt. Heyer staggered in surprise, his legs buckling as he held onto Excali-bar.

  “Dammit, Heyer,” Jonathan whispered. “Say what you mean.”

  “She is using her life to close the gates,” Heyer said. “To send my brother back alive. Malkier was never going to allow Mankind to outlive him. He never left it to chance, after he faced his own mortality. If he dies, in here or anywhere else, Cede will open massive gates and allow the Ferox to spill onto Earth.”

  Heyer braced himself with Excali-bar, trying to get his feet stable beneath him.

  “We don’t have enough soldiers, and their numbers will be far too great. Mr. Clean cannot open that many instances of The Never at once; it would be far too dangerous. Even if he could, he would be placing our soldiers into single combat all around the globe, and every Ferox that outnumbers us would come straight to Earth. Jonathan, they will not have Malkier leading them—they will come and they will slaughter believing that their gods have delivered them to the promised land. We won’t be ready, and they will meet little resistance.”

  Jonathan shook with frustration and exhaustion. He needed time to think but there wasn’t any. “Then it doesn’t matter,” he said. “If he returns to the Ferox world, he is going to trigger the war himself.”

  “His plans will change when he returns to find I am no longer his captive. He’ll know that I’ve returned to Earth. What he will not know is how I escaped. After what you’ve managed today, he will fear that I had planned it all along, that I expected him to die here, that his species is walking into a trap. He will take his time to mobilize his attack, because with me on Earth, he knows Mankind will not be defenseless. He doesn’t fear humanity’s forces, but he will not step lightly into a war with me when he knows I’m expecting him.”

  “You can’t know any of that. It’s all just hope.”

  “No, Jonathan, he brought Grant here for a reason. I saw him—you pushed him past the threshold. He will mate when he returns. Rylee isn’t just sending him back, she is going to give him something to lose again,” Heyer said.

  Even with his eyes on fire, Heyer could see Jonathan’s anger poisoned by what he’d heard. “You’re sick….”

  “Jonathan, I never could have planned this—nevertheless, we can’t let our hearts strip us of the opportunity she is giving us. What Malkier knows will damage our plans, but it will slow him down, force him to re-evaluate. We can still salvage this, but it all depends on time. Time that Rylee knows we will not have if she lets you kill Malkier. She is giving you all the time she can.”

  “I can’t let her do this,” Jonathan said. “She trusted me.”

  He pulled Excali-bar from the alien’s grip and pu
shed Heyer away with little more than a nudge. The alien hit the wall, and slumped down until he was sitting on the alley floor. Jonathan turned, staggering toward Malkier’s signal in his head.

  “Rylee,” Heyer said. “She said I would need to tell you—”

  He didn’t turn back, didn’t look at Heyer, didn’t stop moving.

  “‘The truth doesn’t become a lie just because the Devil is the only one willing to speak it. I’ll be the damn hero, Jonathan. You be a leader. You protect them.’”

  Jonathan stopped mid-step—exhaled as though her words had punched him in the gut. He was supposed to be the weapon, he was supposed to be the cannon fodder that would end this for her. Why? Why hadn’t he known not to listen? Why hadn’t he left before Heyer could speak? Now, try as he might, he couldn’t push Rylee’s message out of his thoughts. He took a step forward, but it was heavy and slow. His knuckles tightened around Excali-bar until the weapon shook in his grip.

  He didn’t have time for a philosophical debate. He tried to force himself forward, managed another step. It was as though he were pushing against a barrier of conscience, the uncertainty becoming a tyrant. He didn’t want to know what the right thing to do was—he didn’t want to be responsible for doing the right thing.

  He took another step. A helpless anger escaped him like a whimper: “Move, god dammit.”

  He couldn’t let her make this decision, but what right did he have to stop her? He just couldn’t take a gray world and turn it black and white. He didn’t know how.

  I’d follow you, he heard her say. Protect us.

  Jonathan’s breath caught, a shiver running down him as Malkier’s presence disappeared from his awareness. The entire alley seemed to grow darker and weakness struck him down—weight like anvils on his shoulders. Excali-bar dropped out of his hands, and his next step became a fall to his knees. His good arm stopped him from putting his face in a puddle on the alley floor.