The Warrior

by Victoria Scott

  Because Charlie is screaming.

  51

  Here They Crawl

  This entire time I’d wondered where Rector was, but I was too busy fighting to dwell on it. Now he shoots through the sky like a rotting star. He burst from the ground like a cicada killer wasp and now his arms are around Charlie and he’s flying, flying.

  Her screams quiet, and I see a flash of blue against the dark sky. The two plummet to earth, and Rector takes a knee on the ground, Charlie leaned over his lap like a willing lover. He stands. His leather wings spread out. He keeps one hand on Charlie, who doesn’t struggle, and uses the other to withdraw a long sword from over his shoulder. He places the tip directly above her dargon. Charlie closes her eyes.

  She’s whispering words I can’t hear, but they do nothing to lessen Rector’s grip on her.

  Rector grins in my direction. “I’m going to give someone here the chance to save this girl. Sacrifice yourself, and she’ll walk free.”

  I open my mouth to elect myself though I know it will do nothing to stop Rector from taking her dargon.

  I’m interrupted.

  “Take me!” All eyes turn to see Valery striding forward. “You gave me a chance to work for you. You promised me a life with my love. You promised me forgiveness for my fiancé. And I betrayed you. I don’t know why you want a willing sacrifice,” she says, continuing to move forward, “but take me.”

  Max races after Valery, but she knocks him back with one sweep of her white wing.

  There’s no way I’ll let Valery do this. Even if I do hate her, she’s mine to hate. Her stupid self will stay with us for as long as I say and bear the anger I have to give until one day, maybe, my anger depletes. What I will do though is let her serve as a distraction. As Rector eyes Valery, licking his lips, I circle around behind him. He doesn’t see me. Not yet.

  Charlie lays her hands on Rector’s chest again. Flame ignites from her palms and she mutters words, but nothing happens. His soul has been dead too long. She can’t restore his humanity any more than I can change the fact that she died before my eyes.

  Valery is so close to Rector. I spot Kraven on Rector’s other side. He slips through the grass like me, trying to reclaim one of our two most useful weapons in this war.

  Déjà vu.

  It’s a funny thing.

  Three days ago, we fell into Rector’s trap so easily. He pulled the two girls from their horses and we were helpless to do anything. Now here he is again with Charlie, and here we are, our hands bound.

  What broke the moment last time? Who saved us?

  Oh, yes.

  Annabelle appears from the grass behind Rector. She has a blade in her right hand and radioactive fury written across her face. She’s already told him once. She’s already warned him to stay away from her friends.

  My heart is in my throat as the fingers on her left hand linger unconsciously over her stomach. There’s protectiveness in that subtle touch. And through that one small gesture, I understand…everything.

  It’s Annabelle.

  All this time, it was her.

  Two hearts that beat as one will make a great sacrifice.

  She raises her arm over her head and screams and the world breaks into a thousand pieces.

  Rector turns and drives the sword clean through Annabelle and the unborn baby living inside her. Charlie cries out and the blue light that explodes from her hands is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Rector whips through the sky like a forgotten scrap of paper on the wind.

  Blue is there with Annabelle and I’m there with Charlie.

  Annabelle isn’t moving. She’s not moving and the ground is rumbling and Kraven is growling like the demons he’s ignored for a decade have resurfaced inside him, hungry. “Annabelle!” His entire body shakes. His wings grow in length. His face contorts, bones spreading. “Annabelle!”

  Annabelle is breathing, choking on her words, and Rector is fleeing. The Patrelli sisters rush toward her, and Blue pushes Annabelle into their arms.

  “Get her out of here,” I say.

  The sisters dodge the sirens in their retreat. They won’t be able to hold their shield up for much longer, and so the four of them, including Oswald, will have to seek the forest’s shelter. As they withdraw, Rector moves farther away. But there’s no way Kraven will let him flee and neither will I. I don’t want to leave Charlie’s side, but I will because I want Rector’s head right now more than anything.

  Rector has Annabelle’s blood on his hands. He paints his face with it and growls toward the moon. Kraven will get to him first, but I’ll be there a heartbeat after that. Together, we’ll pull him limb from limb.

  A ripple rolls across the Lion’s Hand. I feel it even in flight. Though I’m unsure as to where it stems from it does little to slow my strike. When a second ripple hits the earth though, I hesitate in the air, wings beating. Kraven does, too.

  Rector opens his mouth and yells. His words feel like acid rain pelting my skin. “Blood of the savior. Blood of the soldier. Blood of the sacrifice. Come into me, king. I have done as you commanded!”

  I search the field for Aspen and spot her. She’s holding her arm, the same one she injured in hell on our journey to save Charlie’s soul. Blood seeps between her fingers. Rector must have cut her before he shot into the air with Charlie.

  The ground rocks with even more enthusiasm, and I call for Kraven to go to Charlie and Aspen. He’s got arsenic in his veins though, and the only thing that will satiate him is Rector’s death.

  I fly toward him and shake his shoulders in the air. “Go to the savior and soldier. Fight with them. I’ll kill Rector. I swear to you.”

  When he turns and looks at me, a shiver climbs up my spine. His face, and the bones in his body, they aren’t right. I’ve seen it before during the night of the fire and during our Amplification training and on Rector’s own face, but it’s jarring all the same.

  “Go, Kraven! Do it for Annabelle.”

  I’m not sure what convinces him, but he roars and sails toward a pocket of sirens and begins throwing them toward Charlie and Aspen. He’s an unstoppable force, fighting with a darkness liberators shouldn’t possess. No one will get past him now. Not sirens, not the remaining collectors. He is ruthless in his worry over Annabelle.

  The earth shakes a third time, and I turn back to Rector.

  He picks up his knees one at a time like he’s skipping rope. He laughs. He screams at nothingness and his eyes leech of color and behind him, a massive fissure opens in the earth.

  Out of it, the demons crawl.

  52

  I Thee Wed

  There are hundreds of them. Black-and-yellow-scaled things with arched backs and heavy heads. They whistle and hiss and turn their demon bodies toward our troops. Tongues dart out from between sharpened teeth, and clawed fingers twitch.

  The hair rises on the back of my neck, and the humans who fight with us scream out in horror. They were prepared to fight other humans—sirens—and winged men. But not this.

  This is why they didn’t attack again after our first battle.

  This is the grand finale they were busy planning.

  I don’t understand how it’s even possible until I see them—rings. Gold rings are fitted around the monsters’ fingers like they’re moments from walking down the aisle. I understand at once why Patrick wasn’t wearing a cuff. They removed his dargon, and probably a couple of the other collectors’, too, and welded the material into rings so they and their demons could crawl from hell and onto the Lion’s Hand.

  No one is whispering the vultrips open anymore.

  That betrayal was completed, and Rector spilled what blood he needed to in order to open a last and final vultrip.

  As Rector dances in place, elated with his performance, red smoke wisps from beneath his feet and surrounds his body. He bows to it, and soon I can’t even see him the scarlet fog is so dense. The demons pour toward the humans and liberators and jackrabbits. They tear into them, and th
ey tear into the sirens, too; those who have been changed and those who haven’t. The meat tastes the same to the black and yellow monsters.

  I race toward the fog, no longer caring what hides behind its veil.

  That’s when Rector steps into view.

  He is larger than he was before, and his body is covered in black scales like the demons he unleashed. His eyes burn red and his face is coated in black tar. Muscles bulge from beneath his scaled armor as he steadies the sword, still coated in Annabelle’s blood, toward me.

  Wings like an ocean unfurl from behind his back, and a sinister smile twists his gaping mouth. I know in this instant that it’s no longer simply Rector I’m fighting. Not really. It’s Rector empowered. It’s Rector possessed.

  He flies toward me.

  I fly toward him.

  Our bodies collide and the universe trembles.

  He narrowly misses my abdomen with his sword. I grab his right wrist to keep the blade from doing any damage, and he bites down on my neck. I scream with agony and bring my knee into his stomach. It does nothing to lessen his teeth sinking into my flesh. Only when I slam my head into his does he let go. I fly away from him and dive over his head. Hooking an arm around his throat, I pull back. He’s too strong though, and he quickly tears away from my grasp.

  Rector swings his sword and it catches me on the right thigh. I whip out of his reach and hear someone yelling from several feet below. Glancing down, I see Max waving a sword over his head.

  My boy, Max!

  I swoop down to get it, but Rector slams into my side and jams the butt of his sword into my ribs. A crack reaches my ears and tells me he’s done real damage. I throw my fist into his face and into his neck. He barely flinches from the impact.

  Once again, I fly down to meet Max, but Rector intercepts my attempt. I can hear Max crying out in frustration as Rector grabs hold of me and sails straight up, away from Max and the weapon he holds. I kick my heel into Rector’s shin and remember the defense Kraven taught me.

  Curling my wings around myself, I spin. It does the job and I break from Rector’s hold. Pulling on my shadow, I plunge fast toward the earth, but he’s there in a second, and I barely dodge the sword from opening me across the middle. Rector pulls to one side and brings his elbow across my face. My shadow falls away and blood pours from my shattered nose. Before I can think, he brings the sword around his head. It comes slicing toward my neck, the same place where he bit me moments before.

  I spin and fall again, and he swipes empty space where my head once was. I have to kill Rector, and I won’t stop until one of us dies, but I don’t know how I can win. Not without a weapon. I should have thought to grab something before I took off after him, but there wasn’t time.

  Rector crashes into me and this time pain explodes in my left leg. I don’t know how he hit me or where, exactly. He blasted into me and left just as swiftly. With his heightened senses he’s faster than I am, and my injuries drive the point home. For the third time, I hear Max’s sounds of frustration. Then his voice grows closer. I don’t understand what’s happening until I spot Max soaring toward me, grey-feathered wings spread over his head.

  The look on his face is one I’ll never forget.

  Pride.

  Excitement.

  My best friend finally found his wings.

  He tosses the sword to me—and one second later, one heartbeat after my hand closes over the hilt—Rector drives his sword through Max’s chest. It enters through his back and appears again directly below his right collar bone.

  The smile crumbles from Max’s face. He screams as Rector shoves his boot into Max’s back and pushes my best friend’s body off his sword. Rector swings his sword unnaturally fast and cuts Max’s foot off above the ankle, dargon separated from his body. Max falls.

  “No!” I dive toward him, blood ringing in my ears. This can’t be happening. Not to Charlie. Not to Annabelle. Not to Max.

  He’ll heal.

  We’ll replace the dargon somehow and he’ll be okay.

  Rector crashes into me again, and a vicious snarl tears from my throat. I fight to get away from him, to save my friend from hitting the earth. But Kraven swoops in out of nowhere and grabs Max’s falling body. The two skid along the ground and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  I rip free of Rector and set my gaze on his ankle. I point the tip of the sword Max gave me toward his dargon.

  I’ll take it before the sun rises.

  Nerves fire through my body when I realize what it is I’m holding. A sword no different than any others on the battlefield. No different, expect for the yellow gemstone in the hilt. No different, except for the feel of it in my hand.

  I’m certain Max has no idea what sword he stole.

  Weapons are scattered across the Lion’s Hand, and he must have simply plucked one from the tall grass.

  It almost seems like a heavenly force has sidled into my corner.

  Because in my hand is the sparrow among the crows.

  I release a bone-chilling battle cry and charge toward him, wings beating the night sky. My sparrow catches him in his shoulder, but the blade doesn’t break through his glossy scales. I close my wings and plummet toward the earth headfirst. Then I make a tight turn and soar toward Rector. I plunge the sword into his shoulder blade, and Rector startles like the weapon surprised him. The blade has only sunk about two inches into his ghastly armor. I jerk the sword free and Rector catapults my body through the air with a smack of his right wing.

  He pulls his own sword to his side and grins. The blackness coating his face stretches like rubber. Even his nose and brows are only an outline in the thick gummy material. I wonder if the mask he wears over his face is a sort of armor, too. I blast straight upward and grab my sword with both hands. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know how I’ll ever defeat him.

  I think of Charlie.

  I think of Annabelle and Max.

  I think of the fate of mankind all over the world and set my sights on the flat space behind Rector’s neck.

  I fly downward with every ounce of power I have and focus every firing nerve in my brain on that one spot. Kill him. End this. Save the world.

  The blade comes down on the back of Rector’s neck. It should drive straight into his flesh and lay flat against his spine. It should spear him through and give me the time I need to break the dargon from his ankle.

  It does neither of those things.

  The sparrow bounces off and flies from my hands. I tumble through time and space trying to grab it, but it freefalls out of reach. After all that worry over a weapon cited in the omniscient scroll, it didn’t do anything. And now it’s gone.

  Rector’s own sword finds my forearm. My skin peels open. Blood rushes down my arm and into my open hand like a hand shake.

  How do you do?

  I swing with my uninjured arm toward Rector, functioning on pure adrenaline. He dodges my attack as easily as if I was a toddler and then he bites into my other shoulder. The biting thing is getting old, so I punch him in the stomach. If my sword didn’t harm him, my blows do little more than tickle his immense body.

  When Rector raises his head, his teeth are laced with blood and bits of my flesh. I’ll heal, but he’ll keep coming at me until he gets what he wants. I manage to shake him loose and fly over the Lion’s Hand with Rector close on my heel.

  Below me, the battlefield is stained red as demons crawl over humans and jackrabbits. Sirens fight against sirens, and collectors clash with liberators. Valery is crouched over Max’s body, screaming. In one hand she has his severed foot, and she’s trying to reattach it with the other. The Patrelli sisters, Oswald, and Annabelle are gone from the field, and Charlie and Aspen are standing behind a wall of sirens. The demons pummel past their bodies, moving ever closer to their prize. They want the princesses, and if I don’t do something to stop this, they’ll succeed.

  My mind branches into countless paths. I should touch down and fight the demons. I should continue
battling Rector so he’s distracted from leading his troops. I should call for retreat.

  The problem is I can’t imagine doing any of these things successfully.

  Snow trickles from the sky, floating ignorantly to the blood stained field. It cloaks the monsters’ shoulders in a white cape. It’s a false promise of hope when there’s nothing to be hopeful about. I can’t defeat Rector, Charlie and Aspen can’t save the souls of those too far gone, and our soldiers are no match for the demons.

  We’ll be defeated on this battlefield. Even with the savior. Even with the soldier. Even with the sisters and Oswald and the jackrabbits and humans risking their lives. Even with liberators who know what we stand to lose, who have trained for weeks for this moment.

  Even with me.

  Unless…

  53

  We Are Monstrous

  I dive across the field and land in the tall grass. When I look up, I see that against all odds, Rector has lost sight of me. He searches the skies, and when he doesn’t immediately find what he’s looking for, he flies in the opposite direction.

  I take a knee.

  I think about Charlie praying at the dining room table and how sure she was that He was listening. I think about Valery praying for forgiveness and Kraven supporting that endeavor. I think how Aspen was ordained to help save the world even though she lived a sinful life before Charlie came along. I think about what I felt in that training room with Neco. I think about the soul that lingers inside of me.

  I rub a hand over my chest and feel blood there. Broken bones and bruises assault my entire body, but my soul is still intact. Why?

  I wouldn’t be the only liberator to ever keep his soul, unless there’s a reason for it.

  I gaze once more at the ravaged battlefield, at my friends fearful, at humans dying. I’ve never looked outside of myself for help. Never thought there was anything I couldn’t do with my own damn hand. I am Dante Walker, and I didn’t need anyone—anyone—to do a thing for me. Until now.

  I bow my head.