But he’s off course. He’s not really approaching me; he’s approaching Killian.
Killian, who’s laying like a dead weight on the cold stone. Talon’s frown morphs into a sneer. He lifts his boot, and I move.
Not sure how. Not even sure what the plan is.
I just move.
Registering the angle of Talon’s walk. The way Killian’s cheek is flat to the floor. The steel plate on the sole of Talon’s boot as the man lifts it into the air. And in that same second, I have my knife out of my boot and in my hand. I throw myself over Killian’s body and slash upward as I sail underneath Talon’s leg.
The blade buries itself into his flesh but doesn’t slow my momentum. Talon falls to one side as I crash and roll to the other. Someone slams a boot down on my chest – stopping me and knocking the wind out of me.
Somewhere in that moment Killian rolls onto his feet – great timing. The man’s all wild eyes and pent-up aggression. His arms out, tense, ready to punch and wrestle. His jaw set tight. I swear a Brahman bull running at full speed would bounce off of him.
Talon is trying to grip his leg as blood pours out and flows toward the drain. I smile at that.
Even though I can’t breathe.
I’ve been knocked out cold plenty of times before. I get knocked out. I wake up swinging. That’s the way things happen.
I’m sure I’ve come close to being killed a few times – but it’s never actually happened.
Looking around the room, already on my feet and trying to work out what unfolded during the minutes I was unconscious – I’m trying to lay my eyes on my Shadow.
Find her. Find her. Find her.
Eight heartbeats in the room. The StormSeed is unconscious in a chair. The FaunaSeed, TrickerySeed, TrackerSeed, and TruthSeed are in defensive positions near the desks. Their commander is moaning in pain, gripping at a gaping wound, right in front of me.
I kick him in the face, removing the guy from the equation.
Shadow is on the ground.
Two arms. Two legs. None of her own blood.
And smiling at me. My lips press into an almost smile in reply.
She’s gasping for breath. Holding the small blade I gave her. One of the other Sabers is standing on the tip of it so the thing’s no longer any use to her as a weapon. In fact, she might be getting her fingers crushed by keeping her grip on the thing.
I smile. I don’t even try to control it, just let it go, as I step toward her. The metal cuff around my ankle makes a clunking sound – the chain bumping against itself.
“No further,” the TruthSeed orders.
I stop with the chain pulled tight and another few steps between us.
Shade is making short gasping noises. Gasping, but fine.
“What now?” I ask.
I probably should stop smiling and start acting serious – but this is just too fun.
Six of my smaller weapons are on the ground out of reach, but I still have two darts in the sleeves of my shirt and a knife under my left armpit. And I probably don’t need any of them for these scum.
The TrickerySeed clears his throat nervously. His hands, the calluses healed over, tell me he hasn’t drawn his sword in months. Not a threat. The TruthSeed and the FaunaSeed have weapons out and flickers of bloodlust fill the air around them. I pluck the darts from my sleeves and pierce both of them.
As their bodies fall, the TruthSeed hauls Shadow to her feet. One arm around her neck to hold her in place. He wraps his other hand around hers and angles her small metal blade upwards at the base of her sternum. Toward her heart. A pretty definitive blow even for a Saber.
I hold my hands out in surrender.
Fucker has seconds to live.
76.5 miles from Potion Master Eydis
“You okay?” Killian asks me.
I nod, the movement impeded by the giant arm around my neck.
I’m pretty sure their commander is bleeding to death on the ground, but the room is completely still.
Beyond Killian, through the window, the kids are still kicking their ball. It bounces up the tiered seating and disappears into one of the rows. Happy faces chase after it. Climbing the seating made for adults with jumps and wriggles. It looks like they’re laughing as they disappear into the rows.
I smile.
Killian smiles back.
“What’s so funny?” Kieth growls.
The sensation of his power barely brushes against my awareness. It has so little effect on me that I almost miss the power-getting-sucked-from-the-room sensation that follows. A clawing thing, stretching and reaching through the walls and around us. Devouring everything that should be important in this moment.
Except I can’t see anything – so it can’t be anything!
Nothing new. Nothing else. Nothing different. Just this feeling so powerful that the world slows. Almost stops.
One beat. Two.
Killian fixes his gaze on me, a look which I translate to, ‘shit’, or maybe ‘fuck’ – Killian likes to curse.
Power a million times stronger than Kieth’s slams into me. Into everyone but Killian.
Kieth flies backward in a sea of papers and desks and chairs, tugging me with him for a moment, but he can’t keep his grip. We’re thrown apart. I slam into the wall and crumple to the ground. Kieth’s on the ground beside me. Not moving, blood trickling from the corners of his eyes.
I’m alive. I’m conscious.
But crap am I hurting.
Which is more than I can say for the other Sabers. Killian has his back to me as I pull myself onto all fours. My arms are shaking, from either the power or the impact or both.
Instead of feeling guilty or horrified at the death around me, I feel relieved. One less thing to worry about.
My stomach turns – what kind of person feels relief at the sight of death?
Outside the wall of windows, the world looks just as turned on its head as it does in here. The few market stalls I can see have been torn to pieces. Distant screams and shouts filter into the room even through its thick walls.
The power that sent me flying came from out there.
And that power felt like Pax.
Killian’s still just standing there, his whole body rigid except for the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he draws in breaths.
Outside, something sails through the air and slams into the sand. It rolls a few times before coming to rest.
It’s a person, wearing a distinct crimson shirt.
Sromma.
What the bralls is going on out there? I manage to think, even though I can’t manage to get myself back onto my feet.
Sromma presses his hands into the sand. There’s a shimmer through the air followed by the few stalls that were still standing being shattered. Fabric, leather, apples, they all go flying. People. Women. Kids.
Horror shreds at my heart.
Pax steps into view. Eyes glowing yellow. Teeth drawn and canine.
Sromma runs at him. I’m not sure what his plan was, but in a blur, Pax has him by the throat. He holds him for a second, feet in the air kicking and struggling, then he flashes from man to wolf and Sromma drops to the sand. He’s barely able to shuffle backward before the wolf is gone and the man is back. Pax, now naked, stalks forward.
Pax is definitely the predator, Sromma’s the prey.
But is Sromma alone? If Pax does the wolf thing again, he could be helpless against Daryan… where the bralls is the BeastSeed?
“What’s he doing?” I gasp. Becoming a wolf when it’s so freaking dangerous.
Sromma buries his hand in the sand once again, followed sharply by a wave of power. The magic has the same effect as Pax’s, but it feels, smells, almost tastes completely different. It grabs at me, looking for ways to hurt.
Throwing me against the wall – again.
“Is he an Alpha?” I ask – gasp – as I roll onto all fours. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.
“No,” Killian grunts, reaching down
to crush the shackle on his ankle in one hand. “OverrideSeed.”
“I don’t understand,” I growl, wiping at my nose and finding blood on my sleeve.
Killian grabs the commander’s limp head by the hair, tossing the guy onto his back before searching through his pockets.
“Answer me!” I demand.
Killian levels his pure-black gaze on me. “He’s falling into his darkness. He can’t hit the bottom.”
Every part of my being agrees, but I stay close to the ground as Killian pulls out a set of keys. Pax’s power sent me flying, but it knocked these other Sabers out – possibly killed them. I don’t know why his power went easy on me. It completely avoided Killian, so maybe it’s selective.
Sromma, however, his power wants to hurt me, even though it’s not as strong as Pax’s. The lower I am to the ground, the less distance I’m thrown. I watch through the Silvari glass, trying to spot who’s going to throw the next shockwave.
I’d like to kick my brain into gear and come up with a plan, but instinct is ruling everything right now.
Pax rolls his shoulders. His lips are moving – talking to himself, I think, because the other guy’s on the ground and looks like he’s screaming. Not in a rational, listening to what Pax is saying kind of way either.
Pax flashes into wolf and launches himself at Sromma. He bites down on the Saber’s ghost-white leg and tosses him into the air. His body smacks back to the ground next to the pole in the center of the sand. Man-Pax flashes into existence and approaches the cowering OverrideSeed, grabbing him by the throat again and holding him against the pole. Pax’s lips are moving, and the other guy looks scared shitless – but I can’t tell what they’re saying.
“How do we stop him?” I ask, watching the scene outside and listening to the sounds of Killian working through the keys.
The bars are too thick to break. But he punches one with bone-shattering force anyway. He manages to bend it, then goes back to the keys, putting them in the lock one at a time and cursing constantly under his breath.
“I’m going to knock him out,” he says.
“You can’t do that,” I gasp.
He turns to me sharply, the black pits of his eyes swirling with smoke that seeps out over his whites.
“Something has made him lose his grip on who he is. If he falls into this Darkness, he will hunt anything and everything that is a threat to you. No reasoning, no planning. He will hunt Lithael, and he will die.”
The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s turned back to the lock. It clicks, the gate groans open, and he starts the whole process with the second gate.
“So if he kills this guy –”
Killian growls over the top of me. “The Override can die. But if he kills an innocent –”
He throws his whole body at the bars. His shoulder makes them bend and bow, but the snapping noise is more bone than metal.
“And the BeastSeed?” I demand, wherever the hell he is.
“I’ll knock Pax out – problem solved.”
Pax lets go of Sromma’s throat, but the Override’s toes don’t even brush the sand before Pax’s pure energy smashes through him – blood and organs paint the wave of energy.
The guy’s blown to pieces.
Everything slows. Right. Down.
Pax’s face locks in an angry half-wolf growl.
Sand lifts from the ground. A million grains, but each one in sharp clarity.
The power tugs at the remaining tier of seating, ripping into the timber, plank by plank.
Splintering the structure seat by seat.
Each snap and crack has its own moment in time.
“Shadow!” Killian shouts.
His scared gaze locks on to mine.
I should be running away, cowering in a corner, waiting for the impact. But I run toward it.
Toward the wall of glass panels – the most impossible direction. Because out there, in those seats looking for their ball, are four very innocent kids. I can’t let him kill them. I can’t let that become who he is.
Even if I have no way of stopping any of this.
I blame Killian, I think as I run in the same kind of slow motion as the rest of the world. I’m sure my body didn’t have stupid ideas of its own before I met Killian.
The power ripples through the wall, shaking the mortar from between the stones. If I wasn’t overcome with fear, I might find it beautiful. Cataloging each piece of mortar or chunk of stone that is blown loose. Taking notice of them in the same second as they separate from the wall.
Time is almost frozen. Moving so slowly that it’s almost not moving at all.
Please shatter, I beg the wall – the glass.
Beg, then leap.
Diving forward. Hands out. Power ripples over my skin and static pricks along my arms, over my head, into my skull. For the barest second, the force of Pax’s blast slides over me, then it’s gone, and my hands press into the gap where the glass window was. Where the glass no longer is.
The fragments part in a pattern that reflects the light brilliantly around me. I squeeze my eyes shut against the fine glass dust, feeling it on my skin as nothing more than a soft dusting.
Air rushes past me, then I hit the sand, roll, snap my eyes open, and struggle to my feet. I chuckin’ trip, then stagger again, until finally my feet settle into a run.
I don’t want to look across to where the kids were. The seating is in pieces. Broken, scattered. Pax hasn’t moved. He’s standing with his hand hovering over the place where he held Sromma moments before annihilating him.
My Pax.
His whole body is tense, rippling, with molten gold tracing along the lines of his muscles.
“Shadow,” Killian screams through the shattered windows behind me, his voice stretched as if reaching across time. “Don’t touch him!”
His words fail to find meaning.
Pax. Get to Pax. Stop Pax. Save Pax.
My Pax.
I stumble, but I ignore it.
My skin pulses and burns, but I ignore it.
With my next step, the air shimmers and fire rips through my soul, but I ignore that too.
Pushing forward, distantly registering that I can now feel sand beneath my toes and air on my legs.
Pax’s eyes snap to meet mine, fear and fury boring into me. I might have had time to turn tail and run – the emotions coming off of him are insanely intense – but his arms are around me before I can even consider it. His face buries in my hair as he presses me into his bare chest.
His arms completely wrap around me, like maybe he’s checking if I’m real.
“You’re alive,” he whispers.
Over his shoulder, I spot four scared faces peeking up from behind the tiered seating. Alive. The timber is ripped and strewn about, but the framework is still there. The kids scurry from their hiding spots and off into the upturned markets. The last one is carrying their ball.
I sigh into man-Pax, the wolf nowhere to be seen, wrapping my arms around him and enjoying the sensation of his skin against mine.
His chest against my breasts.
Against my bare breasts...
“Crap!” I scream, pushing him away from me.
Of course he doesn’t budge.
“Why am I naked?” I demand.
He growls.
“Pax!” I demand.
Finally, he relaxes his grip enough to lean back and look me in the eyes. His are still golden and glowing, mine – I hope – are screaming of confusion.
He grips my ass, lifting me up and wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Stay,” he orders, not that I physically have the option of getting down right now.
Horses approach, making both of us turn toward the markets. There’s an exit out of here now. The first tier of seating was smashed early on in the fight, but we can’t outrun horses. Pax growls, the rumble rippling through his chest and into mine.
I respond for the barest of seconds before I swallow hard
and stifle the ridiculous urge.
Pax is the one who can turn into a wolf. Can, but right now definitely shouldn’t. I’m just the silly mortal who managed to get her clothes blown off her chuckin’ body!
The sight of Seth on his bay gelding, leading Pax’s dapple stallion, almost makes me cry with relief. He rides straight for us, but stops short.
“Pax?” he calls to his brother.
Is he waiting for permission to approach?
Pax’s body language relaxes, but his grip on me remains solid. We move toward the dapple stallion.
“What did the Override say to you? You snapped. And what the fuck did you do to Shade?” Seth demands.
Pax ignores him.
Seth curses again, pulling his shirt sharply out of the waist of his pants, then up over his head, before he drops it down onto me.
“Put the shirt on,” Seth says, orders.
Things are bad if Seth’s giving orders.
I push myself away from Pax and struggle into the shirt with his hands still on my sides. It feels so good to have the fabric slip into place – but I suspect the move was strategic on Seth’s part and had little to do with my personal comfort.
Pax's attention is on the city, the road, Seth, the building I burst out of, everything.
Shouts emerge from the torn markets. People are beginning to venture from wherever they had sought shelter.
Pax throws me up onto his horse. My bare legs settle against the leather.
“Ride,” he orders.
Seth obeys, and the horses lunge forward.
I struggle to grip the saddle and twist and shout backward. “They have Killian. He’s locked in.”
I would point too, but holding on makes that hard. Holding on chuckin’ hurts. No bandage – no splints.
Seth turns the horses in a sharp circle.
Relief floods through me. Leaving Killian is not an option.
Three horses round the corner. Roarke in the lead, my horse racing to keep up, followed by Killian, who’s riding slumped to the side and looking like crap.
Seth turns again.
Pax throws himself onto my horse before taking the lead through the rubble of torn-up seating, scattered sand, and the remains of what used to be market wares.
Shadows and Shade Box Set Page 58
