by Chloe Neill
The split made sense—one Paranormal and one human on each of those teams—but no one looked happy about their particular team. Which was probably fine by Gunnar.
“Darby, tell us what we’re looking for.”
“The decharger’s pretty small,” she said, and held out her hands to form a small square. “Maybe four by four. It’s a black disk, about two and a half or three inches thick. You’d press it flat against the Veil,” she said, mimicking the move. “It’s powered by the Veil itself.”
“And the virus? The aerosolizer?”
“She could be bringing the virus in any kind of container. It depends on how it needs to be stored and how much she was able to process. Probably a canister. Something that would fit into a generator, or gun. And the mechanism has to be small enough to fit into the window created by the decharger.”
“Disk, canister, generator, gun,” Gunnar said. “Generally, keep an eye out for metal and plastic.”
“Pretty much,” Darby said with a nod.
“We’ll take the virus and the decharger, and give them to Darby. She’ll secure and transport.”
Darby held up an old, dirty Igloo cooler, patted the side. “High-security transport, right here.”
“Claire, Liam, and I will ride in the truck. Gavin will take Darby, Rachel, Erida. Malachi will fly in. Any questions?”
We all shook our heads.
“Then let’s hit the road.”
• • •
Ten minutes later, Gunnar was practically jumping in the front seat of the truck. “Can this thing go any faster?”
“I’m driving eighty on a postwar highway,” I said. “Unless you want me to flip the truck”—we all grimaced as I hit a bump and we went momentarily airborne before thudding down again—“then no, we aren’t going any faster.”
Like the road to Houma, the road to Belle Chasse was mostly empty. Empty businesses and houses, then a stretch of green on both sides of a pitted highway. And somewhere ahead of us, a woman and a weapon of mass destruction.
We slowed as we neared the target area, the white towers and spires of the Apollo refinery looming in the distance like a twisted Oz.
Gunnar and Liam peered through the windows as I drove, looking for a vehicle, a sign, a woman with red hair.
But I saw her first.
“There,” I said, and slowed the truck, pointed to the field on the river side of the road.
She stood on the levee half a mile up the road, the wind whipping her hair like Medusa’s snakes. Scientist that she was, she’d traded in the sharp suit for cargo pants and a trim tank.
There was something small and black in her hands. There was a plastic box also at her feet, and a canister hanging from a strap around her neck. Aerosolizer and virus, I guessed.
She was staring in front of her, as if trying to locate the Veil, figure out what she was looking at, how exactly to accomplish her work. That meant we weren’t too late. There was no sign of Lorenzo Caval, but there wasn’t time to wait for him.
We had to move.
The Hummer slowed behind us, then pulled up alongside. A shadow passed over, wings momentarily blocking out the sun, and then Malachi landed on the road in front of us, ivory wings casting sharp shadows on the asphalt.
Hair tousled from the flight, he looked like an avenging angel. And today, that probably wasn’t far from the truth.
“He is just . . . gorgeous,” Gunnar said, his voice a little gravelly.
That broke the tension in the car by a long shot. “I thought we had to focus on the mission?” I said.
“He’s part of the mission,” Gunnar said. “A very admirable part.”
As Malachi retracted his wings, Rachel and I rolled down our respective windows. But her gaze didn’t move from him as he strode toward us.
“You got her?” I asked.
“On the levee,” Gavin said, leaning forward.
“Caval?” Malachi asked.
“No sign of him,” Liam said. “Could be Blackwell decided he’s disposable.”
“Or maybe he’s completely AWOL,” I said. “Got smart, relatively speaking, and decided it was better to bail before she did this thing.”
Gunnar didn’t look convinced by either option. “A man willing to kill his own brother out of a completely warped sense of priorities isn’t worried about being caught. He’s worried about the mission. We go as planned,” he decided, “but stay alert.”
“We’ll keep going,” Gavin said, “come up from behind.”
“I’ll circle around, come over from the river side,” Malachi said.
Gunnar nodded. “We aren’t going to wait for you to get into position. We go now, secure the virus before she attempts to deploy it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to no one in particular as we climbed out of the car. “I’m sorry for whatever she’s about to do.”
“You didn’t make her choices for her.”
I looked up at Malachi, saw understanding in his eyes, and nodded.
“You’re right,” I said, looking back at my mother again. “But I’m going to be the one who stops her.”
• • •
“I want to talk to her first,” I said as we walked across the field—which was at least a couple of acres wide. Laura had descended from the levee and was walking in small circles, probably trying to nail down exactly where she needed to aim.
She’d been near the Veil at Talisheek, but didn’t have magic, so she wouldn’t be able to sense it or see it. She’d have to rely on longitude to find it, and even then it waved back and forth across the line of longitude.
But I could sense it fine. It was difficult to grasp the sheer size of the Veil. It wasn’t a curtain drawn between us. It was a split in our world, extending up and side to side infinitely. It shimmered high enough to reach the atmosphere, far enough that it disappeared across the horizon. It was big and it was powerful, and it was holding back the river of magic and Paranormals on the other side.
In preparation for her work, Laura had pulled out the decharger. She held it in one hand while inserting the virus cartridge into a device shaped a little like a fire extinguisher.
“Laura.”
She froze, turned back, aiming her biological weapon. I didn’t think it would do anything to me—no humans had gotten sick yet—but I still lifted my hands.
I was getting sick of doing that lately. Of feeling like a criminal.
Her lip curled angrily. “I don’t have time for you. I have work to do.”
I could see them moving in my peripheral vision. “Your work is over. You’re surrounded, and we’ll be taking the decharger, the virus, and the weapon.”
“I’m not turning anything over. I have work to do. A job to finish.” She turned around to face the Veil, lifted the decharger.
“And did I mention Containment troops are en route? You turn them over to us now, and this will go a lot easier for you.”
“Goddamn it.” I heard Gunnar’s voice behind me. “Ms. Blackwell, I don’t want to shoot you, but I will. If it’s between you and the Veil, I’ll take you out.”
She didn’t move for a moment, then glanced back over her shoulder. “Why are you being irrational? This is science. The culmination of years of research.”
“And you’d destroy a civilization that was millennia in the making.”
She turned back, gasped as Malachi landed in front of her, wings extended and golden fury in his eyes.
She took a stumbling step backward, and Gavin was there to grab her. He pinned her arms while Malachi strode forward, not bothering to hide his wings, and wrenched the decharger away from her.
“You are a disgrace to humans, and to your daughter.”
“Darby!” Gunnar called, and she ran forward, holding the cooler open, held it out while Liam removed the canister fr
om the gun, laid it carefully inside the box.
“Got it,” Darby said, and slid the cover back into place. “Virus container contained.”
“That’s my work,” my mother said vehemently, struggling in Gavin’s grip. “That’s a lifetime of work.”
“Suffice it to say,” Liam said, “you should have focused on something a little less nasty.”
“And speaking of focus,” Gunnar said as he cuffed her, “where’s Caval?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do,” Gunnar said. “And it was pretty stupid of you not to let him help you today. The two of you together could have actually accomplished your genocide. But you didn’t. We beat you.” He pointed at Malachi. “A Para beat you.” Then me. “And the daughter you abandoned beat you. But you’ll have plenty of time to think about how they beat you when you’re in prison.”
The words that spewed from her mouth were overwhelmed by the noise that filled the air: sirens roaring toward us as Containment cruisers and armored vehicles raced toward the levee.
“And here comes the cavalry,” Gunnar yelled over the din. He pulled a comm unit from his belt. “Prisoner and package are contained,” he said.
All of the vehicles visibly slowed—all but one, which steamed toward us, undeterred by Gunnar’s order. And then it lifted its muzzle and pointed the weapon directly at us.
“Caval,” I murmured, and watched, hypnotized, as a streaking star shot from the muzzle and flew toward us.
“Incoming!” Gunnar screamed, pushed me and Liam to the ground, then grabbed Laura Blackwell and pulled her down, too.
They hit the ground together, the shot flying barely inches over their heads. And it didn’t stop. The round kept on going, heading for the thing directly behind them, the enormous, invisible target.
While we watched in horror, the round hit it square on, and the usually invisible Veil shimmered and rippled like pebble-strewn water, shuddered like video from a broken camera.
“Holy shit,” Gunnar said, while we all held our breath.
The scar was small at first, so little it was nearly invisible, a bit of dust that had ghosted across my vision and would be cleared away when I blinked.
I looked back, watched Containment agents wrench open the vehicle’s door and drag a man from it. A man who looked a lot like Javier Caval.
We’d found Lorenzo.
But the hole expanded, and the char around the edge became clearer, like a cigarette burn in fabric. And it was growing larger, the circle expanding exponentially with each millisecond that passed.
“Malachi!” I screamed, and heard the thwack of wings on the wind behind me.
“No,” he said, and the horror in his voice nearly buckled my knees. “No!”
It took me too long to realize that if I could move objects, maybe I could move the separate sides of the Veil, stitch them back together with magic. After all, the edges of the tear wrought by Paranormals had been locked together by Sensitives. Why wouldn’t we be able to lock them together now?
I reached out for the power. The air was swimming with magic, but not the familiar kind. It was magic from the Beyond, from the same place the rest of our world’s magic derived. But this magic was real, original. It hadn’t been filtered through the Veil, through the atmosphere and objects of this world. It was pure, different from anything I’d felt before. And maybe because it hadn’t been filtered through the human world, it hurt.
I began to spin the filaments of magic around me, pain erupting across my arms like pins and needles in a limb that had fallen asleep.
And all the while, the gap in the Veil grew ever larger.
“No,” I said through clenched teeth, gathering every shred of strength I had, every ounce of energy in reserve. I looped magic around one side of the Veil’s breach and then the other, used magic to try to force them together.
Sweat broke out on my arms, the pain like fire across them as I desperately tried to bring one side toward the other, to stretch what remained.
I wiped sweat from my brow and tried again. But it didn’t work. I could move the Veil only when there was Veil to move. It was disintegrating faster than I could hold it together.
“Claire.”
“No,” I said to Liam, then shook off his hand. “No. I’m going to do this. I’m going to fix this. Help me, Liam. You have to help me.”
“Claire, baby, I would. But you can’t fix this.”
I didn’t want him to be right. But he was.
No matter how hard I tried, how hard I pulled, there was nothing left of the Veil to stitch together. Not enough magic to patch the hole that Containment had created.
The gap was big enough now to see through. Instead of seeing more of Louisiana, we could see glimpses of the Beyond—and the crimson uniforms of those who waited for us on the other side.
Laura Blackwell hadn’t infected the Beyond.
She’d helped destroy the Veil.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The charring edges of the Veil disappeared into the distance. If anything remained of the barrier, it was too far away to matter now.
The Beyond now filled our vision, obscuring what we might have seen of Louisiana.
They were mounted on white destriers, a dozen that I could see. Paranormals all of them, and all in battle gear. Golden armor with long crimson robes beneath, golden helmets topped by crimson combs or feathers, and gleaming golden weapons in their hands. The horses were enormous white stallions with thick legs, long curling manes, and wide and flaring nostrils.
I didn’t see the female commander who’d waited in the Beyond the last time the Veil had nearly been opened, the woman who’d looked into my eyes with murder in hers. But that didn’t ease my fears. They were different shapes, sizes, skin tones. But they all looked ready to fight.
Some of the Paras had wings like Malachi’s. Others had streaks of crimson down their foreheads, noses, and chins, and the same crimson along the tips of their fingers. They were called Seelies, members of the Court of Dawn, the faction that had broken through the Veil and led the war against us.
“The Court of Dawn!” Malachi screamed. “Be ready!”
We had a few humans and Paras, a few Containment vehicles, and a couple dozen soldiers—only enough people to threaten a scientist into backing down.
They had two dozen mounted soldiers with armor that resisted human weapons, or had before Containment had tweaked the ordnance. God only knew what would happen now.
“General!” Rachel ran toward Malachi. “Would you like the field?”
He stared at her for a moment. Then his expression shifted, went hard, and he looked back at his meager troops. Paranormals had a long way to go toward parity, but that Containment was giving Malachi control of the human troops was a pretty big deal, or so it seemed to me.
“Create an arc,” he said, and began pointing to locations. “Soldiers in front, armored vehicles at each end, pointed into the Beyond. You take that end,” he told her, pointing to his right. “I’ll take the other. They’ll try to flank us; it’s what they’re trained to do. Don’t let them, Captain.”
That single word—his saying her title—contained enough heat to scorch. And the look in her eyes said she knew it. I had a sense that a kiss between Malachi and Rachel would have plenty of heat.
The promise of that, the reminder of love and connection, made me feel incrementally better. I looked back at the Beyond. Or as good as one could feel when staring down a group of people who wanted us dead and our world to boot.
“What about us?” Erida asked.
“Take as many as you can, and don’t stop short of killing them. They won’t stop short of killing you.” The loathing in Malachi’s eyes looked ancient, built from years of anger and mistrust.
A horn trumpeted from their world, long and low
and wavering, and lifted the hair on the back of my neck. A flashback threatened, but I shook it off. Not here, not now.
The woman at the front of the line of horses screamed, and they let loose.
The Battle of Belle Chasse had begun.
• • •
“We’ll stand together,” Liam said, gripping my hand as we took positions in the front line. My hand was damp, my heart beating like a timpani as the soldiers galloped toward us.
Liam’s eyes were completely gold now, as dense and shimmering as Malachi’s. But there was no mistaking the human fury in his eyes, or the look of hatred he directed at those who would destroy us.
“Stay with me,” he said. “We stay together, work together, we’ll be fine.”
But then the army crossed into our world, and all hell broke loose.
As if guessing our plan, one of the Seelies, her white hair streaming beneath her gilded helmet, charged us.
“Claire!” Liam called out as I moved first, darting to the side when she arrowed her stallion between us with an evil grin.
She was close enough that my hair rustled as she passed, close enough that I could smell the clove scent of her skin, the warm odor of horse, her well-oiled armor.
She circled around and came again, whipped the bow from her back with one hand and the arrow from her horse-mounted quiver with the other, and fired.
I smiled, gathered magic, made my best guess about velocity . . . and grabbed the arrow in midflight.
It shivered in the air two feet from my face. Holding it steady, I turned, pivoted it with a fingertip, and looked up at her. “You want to walk back into the Beyond?”
She screamed and charged.
I propelled the arrow toward her, and she barely dodged it, the metal tip grazing her shoulder. She screamed again, launched another arrow, fired.
Her movements were so fast I didn’t have time to prepare, to grab that arrow. I hit the ground on my stomach, heard the arrow whiz over my head, and then her stallion was nearly on me.