Huntress

by Elizabeth Hartwell

  Chapter 34

  Cerena

  Crassus stands in the middle of the parade ground, sparks of dark energy flying from his fingertips, and I race toward Brandon, who’s lying on the ground, his hand clutched to his chest.

  “Brandon!” I yell, but before I can reach him, a blast of energy impacts at my feet, bringing me to a stop.

  “I don’t think so,” Crassus says, his voice reverberating in the air. “You’re not going to go fix your little toys. For the first time in years, you have to answer to me.”

  I turn, facing him and trying to take a full measure of the situation in the time I have. At least seeing him is no problem. He’s glowing in the night air. “I always thought you were a jerk. I never thought you’d betray the Hunters, Crassus.”

  “I never thought you’d betray me,” Crassus retorts. “When Bane promised you to me, I put my trust in him. But I guess what they say is true. He might provide, but I have to seize the moment.”

  “How long?” I ask, my anger making me tremble. “Before or after?”

  He knows what I’m talking about, and he laughs. “Before. Why do you think Edward and I had to have them killed? They’d discovered the big secret and confronted Edward, saying they were going to expose the entire lie.”

  “You had my parents killed because of the gods?” I ask, edging my way around. “And you . . . you sold yourself to Bane for power?”

  “ABSOLUTE power!” Crassus screams, flinging a ball of dark magic at me. I dodge, hearing it explode on the ground behind me. “Second only to the reborn Bane himself! Seven generations, direct descent from the dark god, father to son . . . to be combined with seven generations, from the light goddess herself, mother to daughter.”

  “So, how’s Edward involved?” I ask, seeing out of the corner of my eye a gleam of light. It’s my sword, or one of them. Brandon must have been carrying them during the escape. “He would be sworn to Sulis.”

  “Hell hath no fury like a child scorned,” Crassus replies, laughing. “You should know that. What, do you really think they’re cryosleeping down there for longevity? They’re demigods, all three of them! And Edward hates his mother for the curse of having to sleep for years just to have the powers he has. So when your mother and father approached him . . . well, Lucian was a convenient tool for us to use.”

  “And I have a convenient tool for me to use,” I cry, reaching for the sword. It’s too far away, but as I dive for it, the gap narrows, and I grasp the handle just before Crassus’s energy blast knocks it away. Rolling to my feet, I square with him, sword raised. “Now . . . let’s end this courtship.”

  I can’t believe, as I advance on Crassus, all that his words mean. He’s one of three men responsible for my parents’ deaths. In some twisted, sick plot for power, he conspired with Lucian and . . . and Edward for my parents to die.

  “You betrayed your friends, my mother and father!” I scream as I slash at him. Crassus dodges, and I turn, my hamstring aching but I don’t care. “You betrayed your oath!”

  “You made an oath to me!” Crassus yells, flinging an energy ball at me. I react by pure instinct, bringing my sword up, and the energy bounces off the blade, flying into the night sky to dissipate. Both of us freeze, Crassus glancing at his hands in surprise.

  “Not all-powerful, are you?” I ask, grinning despite my anger. “You’ve forgotten your lessons along with your oath, Crassus. No power is stronger than that of the will. You’ve forgotten your way.”

  I attack, and Crassus deflects, his bare hands knocking my blade safely away from his body. It’s a stalemate, and as we circle, his blows being blocked by my blade, I’m forced to set aside my anger and evaluate.

  He’s taller and stronger.

  He can strike with both hands, while I have but one sword to protect myself from his attacks.

  And I’ve got a bad leg, which Crassus is targeting with kicks. Twice, his foot whips around and connects, his shin blasting into my leg and smacking into my repaired hamstring.

  “You’re weak,” Crassus taunts me as I stumble away, dodging his glowing fist. He smacks me with an open hand, and I roll, my mouth already bleeding from the force of the blow. This is what he hit Brandon with? God, I feel like Tym just blasted me with one of his sledgehammers. “I only wanted you for breeding.”

  “Always knew you were an idiot,” I grunt, slashing at him and spitting out blood. He avoids the blow, but his maneuver reinforces what I’ve noticed.

  He’s slow.

  It’s not his age. He’s not even fifty yet. But he’s been a team leader for nearly twenty years and a senior team leader for a decade. He spends more time inside the Academy, inside the walls playing politics, than out on Hunts.

  His moves are there, but they’re not with the same fluid sharpness that a Hunter needs. They’re robotic, crisp but not fluid. Slow.

  He’s lost his edge.

  “Why hurt Brandon?” I ask, gathering my strength and wind. “He’s Bane’s vessel, yes?”

  “The body would be nice, but we only need the blood,” Crassus replies, his voice sounding a bit winded. That’s it, Crassus, keep talking. Tire yourself out. “Another is being prepared as the vessel.”

  I see the opening, and even if this is going to hurt, I take the opening. Letting go of my sword with my left hand, I reach up, grabbing Crassus’s descending blow and blocking it. Pain flares through my hand and arm as his dark power flows into my body, but it doesn’t stop my ascending sword, which stabs him under the rib cage and up through his lungs.

  “Prepare for this,” I grunt as he looks down in shock. “Say hello to your master . . . in hell.”

  I twist, yanking my sword out before spinning, the blade cleanly severing Crassus’s head from his shoulders, making it bounce across the dirt twice before coming to a stop. His eyes blink, looking at me in total shock for a second before they lose focus at the same time his body slumps to the side and he collapses into the dust, dead.

  Ignoring him, I run over to Brandon, who’s still on the ground. Blood’s pooling underneath his head, but as he looks at me, there’s peace in his eyes. “You . . . kicked his ass?”

  I nod, stroking his hair. “I did. We’ll get you out of here, find an autodoc—”

  “No . . . no time,” Brandon says. “Just glad . . . I got to be with you . . . that one time.”

  “Stop. You’re going to have plenty of time to spend with me,” I promise him, but his eyes roll up and his breath catches. He starts to shiver, and his chest hitches before he stiffens. “No!”

  Training takes over, and I lay him on the ground, stripping off the armor on his chest, pressing my ear to his chest. He’s not breathing, and I don’t hear a heartbeat, but I’m not going to give up. Lacing my fingers together, I start compressions just like they taught us so many years ago, putting as much force as I can into it, forcing his ribs to compress that half-inch before letting up, repeating the thrusts twenty times before clamping my mouth over his, breathing into his mouth twice. “Breathe, goddammit!”

  He does nothing, the only change being the trickle of my blood that’s now oozing from the corner of his mouth, and I resume compressions. I keep going, repeating the process until I feel hands on my shoulders. “Cerena—”

  “No!” I grunt, breathing into him twice again. “No, he’s not—”

  “He is,” Lance says, pulling me away. “We have to go. The Guard will be here soon. Don’t let his sacrifice be in vain.”

  I hitch, my chest aching as I realize that Lance is right, and I let him pull me to my feet. “Bring . . . bring his body with us?” I ask Tym, who’s also been freed of the energy that held him. “I don’t want him defiled, and if Crassus was right about his blood, and Edward—”

  Tym nods and scoops Brandon up, putting him over a shoulder. “Come on. We need to go.”

  I nod, letting Lance take the lead again and lead us into the shadows.

  The Guard should pray they don’t encounter me right now.
<
br />   Chapter 35

  Cerena

  The room is small but nondescript, in a border area of Ringtown that’ll escape notice. It’s not the worst neighborhood in the city, but it is the sort of neighborhood where people don’t tend to ask questions. And it’s an empty building, none of the other three units filled.

  Lance chose to spend his money well.

  I sit on the floor, next to Brandon’s body, where Tym’s laid him on top of a blanket, the two of them having changed clothes and looking at me. “Uh, Cerena . . . we have to get transport out of here. The Hunters . . . they’ll be looking for us twice as hard now.”

  “I know,” I whisper, going over to the sink and taking off my shirt. I run water over the filthy mess until it’s halfway clear, then wring it out and repeat the process. “Go find it. I’ll prepare Brandon’s body and change clothes.”

  Tym and Lance exchange looks, and Tym nods. “We’ll return as quickly as possible. Please be ready quickly, though. I don’t know how much time we’ll have.”

  They leave, and I strip out of everything, washing it all in the sink before leaving it a wet clump. It doesn’t really matter.

  I go over to the bag that Lance says contains some clothes for me, and a ghost of a smile fleetingly dances on my lips. Lance had found some of the clothing we’d found on our mission, and I suspect that he broke into my apartment in Solace to get it.

  I set it aside and go back to the sink, where I take one of my swords to cut up my old shirt. It’s not much, not what Brandon deserves, but he at least deserves better than to die coated in sewage shit.

  I start at his head, wiping his face clean before working on his hair, going back from time to time to rinse out the filthy rag of my old shirt. I can feel the tears trickle down my cheeks as I do, and I talk to him as I work.

  “I’m sorry. I promised you . . . I promised that I’d keep you safe. And I failed.”

  I finish his face and neck, realizing that his clothes are too filthy to even try to clean. Carefully taking my sword in my hand, I cut his shirt off before undoing his pants and stripping him naked. It’s terrible, because it highlights the filth still crusting his hands and wrists, like two disgusting light-brown gloves on the ends of his arms, but I take my time, washing him carefully.

  Finishing his hands, I wash his body, thinking about our one time together. “You were different,” I admit, rubbing the wet cloth over his chest muscles, marveling at the lack of bruising. Whatever Crassus had done to him, the energy was absorbed totally within his body, not damaging his skin at all. If anything, he looks better than ever, his muscles fuller, more defined somehow. Maybe the few days of feeding after so much exercise was good for him or something.

  “I was so angry when we went at each other. You pushed all my buttons, cranked my dials, whatever you want to say. I’ve never known a person who could get under my skin as much as you could with a single sentence . . . and the honest truth is that I don’t know why. You never said anything that I haven’t heard before, and from worse people. But you had me so pissed . . . but I’ll always treasure that moment. Because as raw as it was, Brandon, it was totally real.”

  I start down at his feet, washing his legs and drawing higher. I’ve saved his cock and balls for last, mostly because they were the dirtiest part, where the grime and slime had gotten worked in the most with the way our bodies moved. Finally, I can’t avoid it any longer. I’ve even half-rolled his body to wipe off his back and hips, and I reach down, cradling his cock and balls in my hand as I wash it carefully.

  “Mmm . . . damn, Cerena, that’s a hell of a way to wake someone up.”

  I gasp, dropping my cloth as I sit up, looking up to Brandon’s face as his eyes flutter open and he blinks, looking at me before smiling. “Brandon?”

  “Why are you stopping?” he asks, taking my hand and guiding it back to his cock. I grasp it totally by reflex, realizing as I do that he’s alive. He’s warm, and it almost looks like he’s glowing slightly. “I mean, I did help in breaking you out of jail.”

  “How did you . . . I felt you die,” I whisper, even as the thickening cock in my right hand tells me the man in front of me is anything but dead. In fact, he feels very much alive.

  “I’m the seventh son of the dark god . . . and it seems you’re the seventh daughter of the light goddess,” Brandon says, reaching up and cupping my face. “Guess they didn’t tell you that, huh?”

  I shake my head, and no more words are needed as I lean down, kissing him deeply. He kisses me back, taking the whole surreal scene and making it insanely complete as he pulls me in tight. We kiss slowly until Brandon pushes me away, standing up and holding a hand out to me. Curious, I take his hand, and he leads me to the bathroom, where the shower waits for us. Brandon glances at it, and the faucet somehow turns, but I’m not scared as he pulls me in and the clean water sluices over both of us as his lips find my skin again. I feel him lick my skin, tasting me as I melt against the wall until he presses me down, and I get on my knees, looking up at him. “Is this how you want me?”

  His cock bobs inches from my lips as Brandon chuckles. “Not always. But if you mean do I want you to suck me . . . you’re totally fucking right.”

  “All you have to do is ask,” I reply, reaching out and swallowing him. I’m guided by his sexy moans, my tongue rubbing over the stiff satiny shaft and my lips bobbing up and down. I watch him, thrilled with the feeling as he shares control with me. There’s no fight, just pleasure, and my pussy aches with need as I give Brandon what he needs . . . what we both need.

  He starts to tremble, and I pull back, standing up and turning around for him. I spread my legs and push back, moaning as he takes my hips and slides inside me. The connection’s even harder, more intense than before, and as we move, I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know what’s happening, just that I need him and he needs me.

  “That’s it,” Brandon whispers as I squeeze around him, reaching back with a hand and taking his, “that’s it.”

  He speeds up, his thrusts meeting my own, and in seconds, he explodes, sending me into convulsions before we freeze, taking the moment as ours forever.

  The water runs out—we’ve used all of Lance’s water ration for the day—and we step out, drying off.

  “What does this mean?” I ask as I study his delicious body while drying off. “Because what I saw you do—”

  “I don’t know,” Brandon says honestly. “It feels like there are two souls inside me right now, and that worries me. Because those two souls . . . they don’t like each other.”

  “We’ll figure it out together,” I assure him before clearing my throat. “But I need Tym and Lance too.”

  Brandon purses his lips, then nods. “I suppose I can’t argue. In some ways, I can understand. He’s annoying as fuck, but he makes me laugh.”

  “Lance is like that.”

  It’s Brandon’s turn to laugh, and he shakes his head. “I was talking about Tym.”

  It takes me a moment to realize he’s joking, and I laugh, tossing my towel at him. We get dressed, and it’s just in time as the door opens just as Brandon pulls on one of Lance’s spare shirts. Lance and Tym walk in, Lance carrying a bottle of fluid.

  “Well . . . uhm, this is unexpected,” Lance says as he stares at Brandon. “Dude, you’re wearing my shirt.”

  “It was in the trunk,” Brandon says in his own defense. “I guess we’ve got a lot to explain.”

  “You think?” Tym asks, picking up his bag. “It doesn’t matter. We have to go, quickly. Wall Guards are starting to spread through Ringtown.”

  “Well, it certainly matters to me,” Lance complains, holding up his bottle. “You ruined my whole plan, man. I was going to give you a whole Viking funeral send-off and burn this whole building down with your corpse in it. Totally fucking heroic, and you go and ruin it for me.”

  “Thanks, I’m touched,” Brandon deadpans, but stops when I grab the bottle and open it, pouring it on the blanket his body had la
in on. “What are you doing?”

  “Ringtown rules . . . deal with fire first,” I explain, picking up the soaked blanket and dumping it on the bed before emptying the bottle on top. “Every Hunter looking for us will drop what they’re doing until this fire’s totally out.”

  “Cool,” Lance says, grinning. “Can I? Please?”

  “Let him, but we need to move either way,” Tym says. I grab my bag and weapons, following Tym and Brandon out into the night. I’m shocked when there’s a vehicle waiting for us, one of the electric off-road trucks that the Hunters keep for emergency situations. The entire city has less than a dozen, and yet somehow Lance and Tym found a way to steal one of them.

  Of course they did.

  “Riding in style,” I remark as I jump into the passenger’s seat. Tym gets behind the wheel, and Brandon climbs in the back, Lance appearing a moment later as a red glow flares in his apartment. “Ready?”

  “Where to?” Tym asks as he presses the accelerator and we slide almost silently off into the night.

  “Pretty simple,” I reply as I hold onto the frame. “First, a place to talk. Next . . . we’ve got another Hunt. Crassus said there’s another body ready for Bane out there.”

  “But we stopped that,” Brandon says, and I shake my head.

  “I suspect that we’re only two strands of the rope Bane wants to hang the world with. I want to make sure that rope’s cut. In the meantime, there’s a hopefully still-abandoned fire station to raid for restock and resupply.”

  In the back, Lance holds on tighter and laughs softly. “Hey, Tym, remember when we said we wouldn’t be working together long-term?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Guess we’ve shot that idea in the ass, haven’t we?”

  Epilogue

  The Gods

  Watching the electric truck go rolling almost silently off into the desert, he felt rage course through his veins. They shimmered in the viewing pool, disappearing as, once again, Dyeus’s edicts took hold and he lost sight of them.