by Amy Sumida
“What did you do, Amara?” Kyrian whispered.
“She saved my life,” Malik said simply. “Now, how many enemies do we have to kill, Arc Kyrian?”
“Uh... forty maybe,” Kyrian said and then shook his head as if to clear it. He corrected himself, “Forty-seven. How many can you take?”
“All of them,” Malik growled as he stepped away from me.
Malik's body enlarged; his muscles bulging and tearing the fabric of his shirt. Claws burst from his hands and feet; tearing through his heavy boots until the leather burst apart completely and revealed monstrous talons. Malik's neck thickened as his face went sharper and angled into demonic lines. Horns slid out of his skull along his cheekbones and at his temples—the latter curving up and out dramatically—and a pair of leathery wings burst from his back. They beat the air once—as if shaking off slumber—and then settled. As we all gaped at him, Malik's shirt burst into flames, and he tore the remnants away to reveal the burning outline of a crown upon his chest. The fire settled into a soft glow and then faded out completely; leaving a detailed tattoo of a burning crown.
“Amara.” Malik held a clawed hand out to me.
I took it immediately.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Davorin asked me. “You're going to go flying with that thing?”
“I'm going to save our president with Malik and Kyrian,” I said calmly. “Are you coming, Davorin?”
“I can carry one person,” Kyrian offered.
“Damn it all!” Davorin cursed. “Take Tempest; she can do the most damage from the sky.”
Lily rushed forward and turned around in front of Kyrian so he could hold her from behind. “Don't get any funny ideas, angel,” she said. “I just need my hands free.”
Kyrian rolled his eyes but wrapped his arms around her waist securely.
“My men,” Malik growled as he glanced at the bodies.
“I'll see that they're taken somewhere safe,” Landry promised.
“Thank you, Landry,” Malik said.
The sincere words seemed strange coming from the mouth of a monster. But I knew that Malik was still in there, beneath the brutal exterior. Despite his terrifying battle-form, he still had those violet eyes and his steadfast aura. I nodded to Malik, and he pulled me in tightly to his massive chest.
“Don't let me go, demon,” I said.
“Never, my angel,” Malik promised as he launched us into the sky.
Kyrian and Lily followed, and everyone else scrambled for their vehicles on the ground.
Chapter Forty-Four
“I am Ghoul!” Mr. Gooey shouted to the Press.
His heavy jacket and gloves were gone; revealing a slimy face and arms that dripped toxic gunk all over the historic balcony. Malik and I flew toward the White House beside Kyrian and Lily; all of us intent on the speech that was being broadcasted over loudspeakers at a jostling crowd of journalists and amazed bystanders.
“My people were destroyed by the Bleiten, but no one cared!” He went on. “I appealed to your leaders for help, but none of them would listen to me. They forced me to take action on my own. Today, I have begun a war against the Bleiten on behalf of America. I've killed their prince, and they will be coming for vengeance.”
“No, you haven't,” Malik growled as he put on speed.
“Your armies will be forced to face them,” Ghoul went on. “But worry not; I will kill every Bleiten who steps foot on this planet!”
“I've heard enough,” I muttered. Then to Lily, I called out, “Tempest, can you seal the White House in a storm? The fewer witnesses, the better, and I don't want these bastards escaping.”
“No problem,” Lily said with a smirk.
She held out her arms and storm clouds began to gather. The sky darkened to gray and thunder boomed around us. The Press scurried for cover as ominous clouds swirled around the White House gates and started to circle the place like a tornado. Lightning flashed through the thickening mist and the wind began a frightful wailing. Kyrian landed on the lawn to set Tempest down. She continued to feed the storm as he shot up into the air to rejoin us.
Ghoul and his group on the balcony stared about themselves in confusion. Then they spotted us; coming in for a landing on the balcony beside them. Ghoul shouted something at his men and then started to run forward himself, but I tossed several colors at him rapidly. A twist of yellow here and a blast of blue there; in mere seconds, Ghoul was no more ghoulish than I. He was just a normal man running toward his death.
Ghoul finally noticed that his body wasn't fighting Earth's atmosphere anymore, and therefore, it wasn't producing his protective, toxic sludge. He came to a screeching halt and then actually screeched; staring from his dry arms to me in accusation.
“You horrid bitch!” Ghoul shouted as the last of his goop dripped free of him. Then he saw Malik. He pointed at him and shouted, “You're supposed to be dead, Bleiten!”
“I was saved by an angel.” Malik smiled viciously.
“Kill them all!” Ghoul started shouting. “But especially her! Cut off her fucking head if you have to; just make sure that you kill Spectra!”
“Oh, you're familiar with that name, are you?” I asked as I casually threw illusions into the path of his men. “Then you should know that you can't kill me.”
Some of Ghoul's men started to scream and some simply froze and peed themselves. One of them actually managed to toss a canister at us; it started spewing fumes but had no effect on any of us. I assumed it was the bioweapon they had used on the humans.
The men who made it past my illusions shot flames, lasers, and frost at us; all at once. One of Kyrian's wings shot out to block Malik and me from the onslaught as another dropped before himself. Sparks and glittering shards of ice glowed red as they converged with the lasers, but all of them were turned back upon the Ghoul's minions. When Kyrian lowered his wings, he revealed whimpering men; bloody and blue, and some with smoking wounds. Malik and Kyrian stalked forward to finish them off quickly; Malik with his bare claws, and Kyrian with a sword that he drew out of his magnificent wings. It seemed that they were both shield and sheath.
“Well, if I have to be a superhero, then you have to be the supervillain,” I said to the gawking Ghoul. “Which makes it my job to stop you.”
“You'll never stop me,” Ghoul growled like a proper villain and turned on his heels to abandon his dying men.
He ran into the White House.
“Fucking coward,” Malik snarled in disgust.
We dispensed with the rest of the men on the balcony—the ones still cringing in fear of my illusions—and then we chased after Ghoul.
Chapter Forty-Five
The White House was full of bodies. We ran past the twisted corpses, with their hands clutching at their throats, and I tried not to look at their faces. But when I saw Agent Washburn laid out beside Agent Stayton, I stumbled and let out a small whimper. Kyrian steadied me and shot me a questioning look, but I just shook my head and started running again. That bastard Ghoul was racking up a long tab, and I intended to make him pay double.
Then we chased Ghoul through a room that was full of dead Triari.
Malik cursed in Bleiten. Roughly translated it meant: spittle of an insane man-whore. Kyrian stopped beside him to stare down at what Malik was glaring at; it was Prince Traegur.
“Well, that will save us the rigors of a trial,” Kyrian said dryly.
“I wanted to kill him myself,” Malik growled. “I should never have left him alive.”
“I wanted to kill him, but justice has been done, even if it was meted out by the wrong hand,” I declared as I ran past both men. “And there is still more to be had.”
“She's right,” Malik muttered to Kyrian. “There's no sense in crying over spilled Triari blood.”
They both came running after me.
If only Ghoul would stumble or even pause, I could have launched something at him; an illusion or even a direct assault. But he was quick, and more of hi
s minions were lurking about the White House. One, in particular, was familiar to me, or at least his aura was.
“That's the man who I thought was a Bleiten. I recognize the evil in his aura,” I declared as I pointed at a slim, winged man who was striding down the hallway toward us; the same winged supe who had dropped Ghoul in the middle of the Bleiten.
“You mean this Bleiten?” The man asked as his form shimmered and shifted into the body of the Bleiten who had attacked me in the Market. “Hello, pretty eyes.”
“How could you think he was a Bleiten?” Malik asked as he scowled at the man. “He's not nearly handsome enough.”
“We don't have time for battle humor,” Kyrian snapped as he lifted his sword.
“Stand down, Arc,” Malik said as he grabbed Kyrian's arm. “That shapeshifting bastard helped Ghoul murder my men.”
Kyrian moved aside with a respectful nod and waved Malik forward. Malik grinned wickedly as the Bleiten impostor rushed him. He didn't move; just planted one taloned foot firmly in the carpet and waited for the impact. Frankly, I was impressed that the impostor had the courage to attack a real Bleiten in his battle-form. But then I saw why he was so brave. As he ran, the shapeshifter transformed again; this time into a battle-form that matched Malik's. He had the horns, the claws, and even the dragon wings. But, he was still an impostor, and he didn't know how to use the demon form as Malik did.
The shapeshifter bent over and went straight for Malik's chest like a bull; horns pointed forward. Malik remained steady and as soon as the shapeshifter came within grasp, the true Bleiten warrior lifted the wannabe up by the back of his neck and crushed it with one movement. It sounded like a crumpled bag of potato chips; not very loud at all. But when Malik tossed the corpse into the wall, it made a resounding crash that shook the hallway.
“Feel better?” Kyrian asked Malik dryly.
“Yes, thank you,” Malik said as he strode forward; stretching out his neck muscles as he went.
Several more Ghoul minions stepped between us and Ghoul; sending various attacks our way. But only one of us was mortal, and he was an Arc. Suffice it to say that their attacks fell short of doing any lasting damage. They did, however, give Ghoul the time he needed to reach the President.
We rushed into the Oval Office and found President Colton strapped to his leather, desk chair. He was surrounded by Ghoul and his surviving minions, but he looked more furious than terrified. Then Ghoul set a knife against the President's throat and narrowed his stare at me.
“Can someone please just kill this son of a bitch?” Colton asked bravely.
“Shut up!” Ghoul hissed at him.
“How exactly do you see this ending?” I asked Ghoul.
“With you dead and me running this country,” Ghoul said immediately.
I laughed scathingly. “You've got ten seconds to drop that knife before I make you wish you were never born.”
Malik and Kyrian spread out to either side of me and settled into battle stances as they set their stares on Ghoul and his pack of Ghoulies.
“I already wish that!” Ghoul shouted. “I've been in torment since the day my parents shoved me on that spacecraft and launched me toward Earth. They saved my life but at what cost? They turned me into someone who could never be touched; never be loved. I've lived my life in the shadows and the sewers, and it's all because of them!” He pointed his free hand at Malik.
“Your people wouldn't stop attacking mine,” Malik snapped. “They just didn't know when they were defeated. It seems to be an Alcantan trait.”
“I still have the President,” Ghoul pointed out. “One more step—”
“Your ten seconds have long been up,” I growled as I focused on Ghoul.
I shifted the world around us and made it appear as if Malik's men came running into the room. It was the most complicated illusion I'd ever done, but the images of those Bleiten were fresh in my mind, and it wasn't difficult to project them. There was just one problem; I hadn't told Kyrian or Malik about the illusions I could cast, and both of the men flinched in shock when they saw the Bleiten. I had to hold my arms out to them and quickly whisper that it was all an illusion of my creation. That seemed to shock them nearly as much as the illusion itself.
“No; you're dead!” Ghoul shouted. “I killed all of you! Why won't you die?!”
The Ghoulies cringed at first, but then I merged them with the illusions of Malik's men, and I made it look as if they were attacking their leader. Beneath the false imagery, I knew the minions faltered and froze in confusion, but it looked as if they had simply disappeared and the Bleiten had taken their places.
Ghoul yanked his knife away from the President and started stabbing his own men. As they defended themselves, Malik and Kyrian rushed forward to ring them in and finish them off; poor Malik having to attack the images of his own men. It was a show of his faith in me that he did so with such confidence.
I slid through the chaos to grab the President and roll him out of the room in his desk chair. Thank goodness it had wheels. But even with the wheels, I couldn't get much further than the hallway because of the bodies littering it. So, I got the President as far away as I could and then worked his ties loose.
“Thank you, Ms. Madison,” President Colton said as he calmly walked over to one of the dead secret service agents and pulled the gun from the agent's holster.
“President Colton!” I cried as he strode back into the Oval.
A gunshot went off just as I entered the room. Everyone froze as Ghoul—who was already bleeding from several wounds inflicted on him by his own men—dropped to the floor with a hole in the center of his forehead. Kyrian and Malik moved back instantly and folded their wings around themselves as President Colton kept firing; killing every ghoulie left alive. They may have been supernaturals, but they weren't impervious to bullets in the brain. Nor were they immortal.
When Colton was done, and the bad guys laid dead around us, the President calmly placed the gun down on his desk and then went to a little brass cart full of liquor bottles. He poured a drink for each of us, grasped them together by their rims—two in each hand—and passed them out. He paused a few seconds when he came to Malik; eyeing the Bleiten battle-form appreciatively before he lifted his glass of whiskey in salute.
“To those who died today; may they rest now that they've been avenged,” President Colton said. “To those who gave them that vengeance; may they rest now that our country is safe again. And, finally, to those who will spin today's events into something that will allow my fellow Americans to find their rest tonight. God knows I can't come up with anything.”
We clicked our glasses together and shot back our whiskey. As I gasped through the bite and burn, Lily came storming into the room—not literally, thank heavens—but she was seriously peeved.
“What the fuck?” Lily huffed as Davorin, Jason, Leo, and the men from the Special Ops team rushed in behind her.
Lily gaped at the sight of the President having a drink between two winged men—one feathered and one leathered—as we all stood before a pile of gory corpses. But that didn't seem to be her issue.
“You're drinking without us?” She asked with an offended expression.
“I think we're going to need more glasses,” President Colton said with a smile. “A lot more glasses.”
Chapter Forty-Six
After our celebratory drinks, Kyrian contacted the Triari battleships to inform them of the incident at the White House which included the death of yet another prince. More Triari soldiers came down from the battleships to collect the bodies, but Kyrian didn't return with them. He had to place one more call; to King Jovan.
The Triari King was understandably upset by the additional deaths, but he was relieved to hear that the murderers had been executed. He congratulated Kyrian and gave him a new assignment; to bring the fleet home... along with me. It was, of course, an invitation for me, not an order. Kyrian paused to tell me about the invite and King Jovan must have realized
that I was nearby.
“One moment, Your Majesty,” Kyrian said. He pressed a button on the communication device and then said to me, “King Jovan wants to speak with you.”
I glanced at Malik, who was seated on the couch beside me; back in his more human-looking form. His shirt hung in tatters around him and he was barefoot, but he managed to look both amazing and absolutely comfortable. We were still in the Oval Office; keeping watch over the President while he made a few calls of his own.
Malik shrugged. “Do you want to speak to him?”
“He's a good man, Amara,” Kyrian said. “He just wants to talk to brother's daughter; I don't think it's a lot to ask.”
I took a deep breath and reached for the device. Then I stared at the unmarked buttons.
“Here.” Kyrian pressed a central button. “Lift it to your ear and speak; just like a cell phone.”
“Hello?” I said hesitantly.
“Amaranthine, is that you?” Jovan's voice sounded excited.
“I prefer Amara.”
“And you speak Triari?” He asked in surprise.
“Quite well,” I said.
“Wonderful!” He continued in Triari. “Sweetheart, this is your Uncle Jovan. Your father was my younger brother. I'm so sorry for what happened to you. Please know that I was unaware of your existence until very recently. If I had known that Jetek had a child and that she had survived the—” he broke off and took a shaky breath—“the assassination of him and his wife, I would have sent someone for you immediately. But it seems that we were both betrayed.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said. “It seems so.”
“Please, call me 'Uncle Jovan,'” he insisted. “We're family, and you, my dear, are a duchess. I want you to come home and live the life you were born to have. I will make sure that no one hurts you ever again. It's the least that I can do for your father and for you.”
