Nightfall

by Elizabeth Hartwell

  Chapter 31

  Cerena

  The sight of Tym and Brandon easily dispatching the two scout riders without so much as taking a scratch stops my heart in my chest and pushes my legs a little harder.

  “What do we—” Anton White asks, and I look around for any sort of cover. Finally, I spot two fallen trees on the edge of the clearing, their massive trunks at least giving some protection for anyone behind them.

  “Get down, and use that shotgun only if you have to,” I yell, pushing them over. “Protect that girl.”

  “Cerena,” Sienna whimpers, clutching my hand. “Be careful.”

  I stop, looking down at her and ruffling her soft, silky hair. “You just make sure your mom doesn’t freak out, okay?” I pull one of my knives from my belt and hand it to her. “Here . . . just in case.”

  She takes the knife from my hand gravely, nodding as the two of us ignore Sophia. Right now, she’s a liability, and Sienna knows it. Instead, the little girl nods once before taking her mother by one arm while her father takes her other and pulls Sophia toward the fallen trees.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper as I pull my swords. It’s an apology to Sienna, because no matter what, after today, I’ve killed a little bit of her childhood.

  But there’s no time for more. Instead, I run toward Tym and Brandon, who greet Lance and me with smiles. “Where’s the Whites?”

  “Under cover,” I reply, pointing with my eyes. “Was that what I thought I heard?”

  “If you heard werewolves, you’re undoubtedly correct,” Tym says, and I do a double-take. From up on the hill, it was hard to tell, but standing next to him, he looks . . . bigger. Like seven feet, three hundred and fifty-plus pounds big. “A gift from my grandfather.”

  “No time to see if the rest’s grown too,” Lance says, his eyes scanning the approaching trucks. “What’s the plan, Cerena?”

  “Hit the Hunters first,” I decide, going with my gut. “Lance, they might have guns. If they do—”

  “Gotcha,” Lance says, disappearing in an instant. I see him reappear by the nearest building, ready.

  The trucks approach, and the first set of Hunters jumps out, arraying themselves but holding back.

  “What the fuck are they doing?” Brandon asks, the answer apparent as the next truck stops and a man gets out.

  “Cerena, my daughter,” Edward says, his arms spread wide, his hands out to his sides. He’s not dressed in normal Hunter field gear, but almost like he’s ready for one of the occasional formal dining events the Hunter Corps holds. His black denim trousers have a crease that looks like it could be used as a razor if he wanted, and his formal black tunic is highlighted by the gold braid along the closure that runs from his left shoulder down to his belt buckle, the thick double-twisted knots of his office.

  The only thing out of place with the whole image are the twin swords on his back, partners to the first set that he presented me when I graduated from the Academy.

  “I’m not your daughter, Edward,” I call back, watching carefully as the other trucks pull to a stop and sixteen more Hunters get out. Nineteen to four odds . . . with at least one of them being a demigod.

  Fun times.

  “I’m only here for the girl, Cerena,” Edward says, his eyes darting to Brandon by my side. “That one is . . . spoiled.”

  “If you mean unable to be used for whatever fucked up plans Bane has, you’re right,” I answer. I don’t know why Edward wants to talk, but I’m only hoping that maybe this is one of those instances where a little divine fate or intervention might be in play. “And what about me?”

  “The power can only be passed once,” Edward admits, sighing gently. “I had such high hopes for you too, Cerena. To be the creator and concubine of a god . . . such promise.”

  “And Crassus?”

  Edward laughs. “Crassus was an arrogant snob. You did Bane a favor when you eliminated his foolish idiocy. But enough of this. Where is the girl?”

  “Out of your clutches,” I growl, raising my swords. “Doesn’t matter anyway. You killed my parents, Edward. Time for justice.”

  “Not yet,” Edward says, gesturing with his swords. The Hunters arrayed with him spring into action, but before they can, Lance springs first.

  They don’t know what hit them as four Hunters fall, their throats gushing blood from his knives. Even Edward’s surprised as Lance appears next to me, a grin on his face and two Gauss pistols in his hands. “Well, now, this makes things more interesting.”

  Edward snaps his fingers, and suddenly, both of Lance’s pistols go flying out of his hands. “Nice trick . . . boy. Let’s see if you have others.”

  The Hunters charge, and I’m again in the center of the whirlwind. Unlike when fighting the werewolves, though, Tym and Brandon stick next to me, forming my left and right flanks while the Hunters attack.

  It pains me each time I have to swing my swords, because I know these men and women. I trained with them. I practiced with them. I even learned from a few of them.

  Yes, they’ve betrayed the Hunter code. They’ve betrayed their oaths to uphold the laws of Solace, to fight for justice and against the dark influences that have tried to twist the world.

  But still, as I thrust my right sword into Jason Glenn’s gut, jerking it to the side and withdrawing, I’m reminded of how he and I would study science together and how he always carried himself just a little bit on his toes because he was shorter than most of our classmates.

  I don’t have time to mourn as I retreat, blocking a spear thrust before countering. “To the buildings!” I call out, hoping to draw the Hunters away from the Whites. “Move!”

  Another howl splits the air, stopping everyone. Even the attacking Hunters look wary as nearly a hundred werewolves pour out of the town, all of them in various states of change.

  “Do not fear, my Hunters. War makes for strange allies,” Edward says. A moment later, I understand as Lucian Tsavo emerges, his severed stump of an arm now replaced with a familiar-looking sword blade from the elbow down.

  “Didn’t you stab him with that blade?” Lance pants, noticing the new attachment to Lucian’s body. The surgery is still raw and ugly. Even werewolf DNA can’t heal itself this quickly, it seems.

  “Yeah,” I whisper, looking around. What was dire odds have become impossible, even with powers on our side. And Edward’s hung back the entire time, doing nothing.

  “Well, at least the fucker recycles,” Lance says, disappearing again to strike down a Hunter. When he comes back, he doesn’t wait before unleashing his Gauss rounds, blasting five werewolves before firing on Edward, all in the space of five heartbeats

  Edward holds up his hand, and I gasp as the Gauss round stops in midair before Edward turns his eyes toward us again, his smirk disappearing. “You’re becoming annoying, Trickster.”

  A ball of dark fire shoots from Edward’s hand toward Lance, but before it can hit him, Brandon leaps in the way, his hand flying out. “No!”

  The black fire hits Brandon’s hand, and he absorbs it, his body pushed backward as his feet dig into the turf. Still, when the blast is finished, he’s otherwise unhurt, and Brandon shakes out his hand.

  “Holy fuck . . . you—”

  “Can’t say I never did anything for you . . . and stop calling me Blender Boy,” Brandon tells Lance before looking at me. “Let’s fight.”

  Brandon’s shocking maneuver gives us a temporary advantage, and we press with everything we have. Tym’s hammers send shockwaves through the air as he whirls, sending enemies flying through the air and disrupting any attempt the Hunters or werewolves make at forming up and coordinating their attacks.

  Brandon unleashes dark energy from his hands in powerful blasts that disintegrate their targets, and Lance fires his pistols empty before pulling his knives again.

  Edward charges toward me, his twin blades meeting mine as I go toe to toe with the man who raised me. The rest of the battle fades from my attention as our blades spark
against each other, his mouth drawing into a tight line as I block his blows.

  “You’ve been practicing.”

  I deflect his overhead swing and pivot, trying to kick with my right foot, but he moves just a little too fast, pulling away from me. “I’ve had reason to.”

  “Too bad your blades are garbage,” Edward replies. His next attack slashes through the air, and I barely get my left arm up in time, my reversed blade snapping from the impact. I tumble to the ground, staggered. “Told you.”

  “Edward!”

  The bellowed cry doesn’t stop the battle, but the world comes back into focus as I realize that a new party’s joined . . . on our side. Men, dressed all in white armor, each of them easily the height of a changed werewolf, their blonde hair and lean faces impossibly handsome.

  Leading them is the one man who might be able to save us.

  Thomas.

  Chapter 32

  Brandon

  The man’s challenging call fills the valley, and I look around to see my nightmares coming true on a small scale. Dark and light forces are engaged in a dance of death and destruction, warriors in white and dark clashing.

  And my friends and I are in the middle of it. Tym’s lost one of his hammers and instead has a werewolf’s head in one massive hand, swinging it around like a club, smashing the wolf into a pair of Hunters. Meanwhile, Lance rolls underneath, burying his knives into the guts of another werewolf before twisting and ripping the beast open.

  “Thomas . . . I was going to save you for later,” Edward says, reaching out for him. Thomas starts to rise but settles back to the turf as he fights Edward’s telekinesis with his own powers and I use the opening to attack.

  Reaching inside me, I unleash a powerful blast of dark energy at Edward, overwhelming his defenses and sending him tumbling to the ground. He’s up quickly, but I use the opportunity to get Cerena to her feet. “You okay?”

  “Yeah . . . let’s end this,” Cerena says, but before she can take a step, Thomas calls to her.

  “Protect the girl, Huntress!” he bellows, leaping at Edward. Cerena glances at me, and I nod, pushing her away from the fight.

  “He’s right. I’ll help Thomas,” I tell her. “Go!”

  Cerena casts one last look at Edward and pulls back, dodging her way through the melee. Lance and Tym see her and clear the path, letting me focus on Edward and Thomas.

  The two Solace Elders are locked in mortal struggle, weapons forgotten as they grapple hand in hand.

  “You could have been the best of us,” Thomas grunts as Edward unleashes a blast of dark energy.

  “I am the best of us,” Edward grunts. Thomas knees him, the blow catching him in the gut, and he staggers back, giving me an opening. I blast him with everything I have, sending Edward tumbling across the ground again but not seriously injuring him.

  “Stupid boy,” Edward growls as he fires a blast at Thomas that catches him in the chest. “I’m infused with Bane’s power and you try to defeat me with it? Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

  Thomas falls to the ground and Edward grins in triumph. A female scream reaches my ears, and while I don’t know what causes it, I know that voice. Cerena.

  “Now . . . I am the strongest.”

  Edward reaches into his belt and pulls a knife to stab Thomas, but I hurl myself at the Elder, the two of us tumbling to the ground. “Not on my fucking watch!” I scream, jamming my right hand against Edward’s temple. “Say hello to Bane in hell.”

  I unlock it all. Every bit of rage, every iota of anger . . . every bit of hatred inside me. I channel it all through my hand, pressing it harder against Edward’s head as my power flows.

  At first, Edward grins, amused at my temerity. I can feel it. Somehow, my touch has forged a bond between us, and in an instant, I know everything he knows. Seven generations of life, knowledge going back all the way to the beginning of the Shelter, centuries of work.

  I see it all . . . and feel it burn, like leaves in the wind as my dark energy overwhelms Edward’s defenses and obliterates everything, leaving nothing behind.

  Suddenly, his head swells and explodes, showering everything in blood and bone. I lie back, covered in the mess, utterly drained as darkness overwhelms me.

  Cerena . . . she screamed.

  The thought gets me to my feet, wasted and rubber-legged as I look for Cerena. A hard punch from a grasshopper could possibly knock me out right now.

  Edward’s head exploding turns the tide, though, as our allies in white gain the upper hand on our enemies. The werewolves quickly fall back, and the few remaining Hunters either surrender or are killed before I can even find the fallen trees Cerena stashed the Whites behind.

  I make my way over, slipping twice in the now muddy, torn-up ground until I feel a presence next to me and see a white-clad warrior helping me up. “The trees.”

  “I know,” he says quietly, helping me walk over to where I find Cerena on her knees, sobbing. Lance is passed out on the ground, his powers exhausted and his body shut down. Tym stands next to Cerena, his body shrunk back to normal size, laying a hand on her shoulder.

  The sight brings tears to my eyes as I see what Cerena’s sobbing over. Sienna lies on the ground, and at first, I think she’s dead until she stirs slightly. But her left arm is gone, and another of the white-clad warriors, or maybe a medic, works furiously to stop the bleeding and save her life.

  “We need you to stand back,” the medic says. Tym nods, lifting Cerena up like a child and stepping back as more of the white warriors, including my helper, form a circle around the girl.

  “What happened?” I ask, able to stand on my own two feet at least.

  Cerena’s sobs continue, but she pushes away from Tym and kneels, praying under her breath as Tym looks over. “Tsavo,” Tym explains quietly. “He used the distraction of the battle to ambush the Whites.”

  “Sienna’s parents?”

  Tym jerks his head, and I glance over to see two bodies lying in the dirt maybe ten yards away, barely recognizable with all the damage that’s been done to them. “Monster.”

  “He took the arm with him,” Tym says. “Lance tried to give chase but was too exhausted, and Tsavo had three of his werewolves delay us until he could escape with the rest of his forces.”

  I nod and put my hand on Cerena’s shoulder. There’s no words that can comfort her, nothing than can be said right now. I can’t tell her that it’ll get better because it won’t. I can’t tell her that she did everything possible because I failed too.

  All I can do is wait with her and hope that the white warriors can save Sienna’s life.

  Chapter 33

  Cerena

  “Huntress?”

  The white-clad warrior interrupts my vigil over Sienna, his armor dirty and covered in the aftereffects of battle, but his face is even graver. In his hand he carries a naginata, a type of spear tipped with a longer, curved sword-like blade, and his skin’s nicked in half a dozen places, minor wounds that look like they’re already healing in front of my eyes.

  “Who are you?”

  The warrior doesn’t answer but points back toward the battlefield. “Elder Thomas wishes to speak with you before he . . . passes.”

  His words get through the fog of worry, and I get to my feet, Brandon laying a hand on my shoulder. “Go. We’ll watch Sienna.”

  “Thomas wishes to speak with you as well,” the white warrior says to Brandon. Brandon clears his throat, but Tym nods his head, urging both of us toward where Thomas lies in the middle of the battlefield, his head resting on a balled-up cloak and his hand on his chest.

  “Cerena . . . come,” he rasps weakly, his voice barely carrying. “The Sons of Adonis have told me the situation.”

  “Thomas, are you—” I ask, but Thomas shushes me. Instead, I kneel down, placing my hand on his chest. The heart that beats inside is tired, weakened . . . dying. “Thomas.”

  “I have little time,” he whispers. “Cerena, Solace is now corrupte
d. The Hunters no longer serve Sulis and her plan. Even with Edward gone, Bane controls the Hunters.”

  “What can I do?” I ask, despair filling me. “Sienna’s hurt, her parents dead—”

  “The Sons of Adonis will care for her,” Thomas assures me. Reaching out, he takes Brandon’s hand and places it over top of mine. “It falls to you now, all of you, to fulfill Sulis’s promise and protect the world.”

  “How can we do that?” Brandon asks quietly. “Lucian has Sienna’s arm, and—”

  “I was a harsh taskmaster and trainer,” Thomas whispers, his eyes on mine even as his strength fades. “I knew this day would come. I knew you would have to stand against Bane. For so long, I thought you were too weak. But now I see that you are strong enough. You will be able to defeat Bane.”

  “How?” I ask. “Thomas—”

  “The Sons . . . they will . . . goodbye.”

  Thomas’s hand clenches around mine and Brandon’s for a moment as his chest hitches and a heart that’s beat ten billion beats stops. Eyes that have seen a million sunsets cloud over as Thomas’s own personal sun fades away and he passes onto whatever awaits him in the next world.

  I lower my head, fresh tears falling. Not just for him, but for Elizabeth, and Lily, and my parents. For Solace and a shattered dream that seems so far beyond my grasp that it can never, ever return.

  I weep for Sienna, who will now grow up as I did, an orphan.

  I weep for the world and for the lost.

  But as I do, I feel a warmth over top of my hand, and I look up to see Brandon looking at me, his eyes filled with emotion. He’s strong, and while I wouldn’t use the word gentle to describe him, he’s becoming a better man every day.

  “What do you want us to do?” he asks quietly, not pressuring me for guidance but letting me know that he, and Tym, and Lance, will do everything in their power.

  “We wait with Sienna,” I reply, getting to my feet. “After we know about her, we’ll build a pyre for Thomas and the others.”