Messiah

by J. E. Taylor

  Matthew cursed under his breath and returned his gaze to the emperor. “You are a sick bastard.”

  The emperor turned back to Matthew with a smile and a shrug.

  The first man to approach Katrina staggered and fell on his ass. “Stay away from my daughter,” Matthew growled at the man without moving his eyes from the emperor.

  Katrina’s gaze jumped from the man to Matthew in time to see his cheek split. He winced but that was the extent of the visible emotion, but she knew. She felt his fury growing steadily inside him and the memories of the attack on Linda fueled it.

  The perverted fantasies of the approaching men overrode everything else and Katrina snapped her gaze toward the group of men. Her skin crawled at their thoughts and she fought against the bonds, frustrated at her inability to break both the physical restraints as well as the mental commands holding her in place. A sob escaped and she hated herself for sounding so pathetic.

  “André is going to tear you apart and I hope he does it slowly,” Matthew said and Katrina actually felt his anger-fueled power sweep past her, tingling her nerves.

  The man’s scrotum exploded and he screamed, grabbing his crotch and backing away from Katrina, a red stain spreading over the lap of his pants at an alarming rate. One look at the results, and the rest of the men backed away.

  The emperor’s face split open in the same spot André tore so many years ago and Katrina turned toward Matthew and his smile of satisfaction at the emperor’s gasp of pain.

  The emperor’s hand shot to his face. When he pulled his bloody palm away from his cheek, Katrina’s soul filled with terror.

  SEARING PAIN SPLIT his abdomen and Matthew screamed. It felt like a wild cougar raked his claws through his torso and blood spurted out of the gash. Matthew closed his eyes for a moment, slowing down his heart rate like André taught him. The pain was unbearable, but he had to keep himself alive and conscious.

  As long as he was alive, the emperor wouldn’t hurt Katrina.

  The emperor laughed and Matthew opened his eyes.

  “You really think that as long as you’re alive, I won’t hurt her?” He approached Katrina and ran his finger down the length of her arm, slicing the skin like a scalpel.

  Katrina whimpered, but did not cry out; instead, she kept eye contact with him and the hopelessness reflected in her irises seared his soul.

  I’m sorry. I failed you, he thought.

  Katrina shook her head and her voice filled his mind. No, you didn’t, Dad.

  Matthew glanced back at the emperor. “I wonder. What will André tear off first?” He sent a mental punch to the most tender of manly regions.

  The emperor doubled over.

  Matthew’s legs split open, tearing both femoral arteries. Dizziness overtook him and the pain receded with each ounce of blood pouring onto the field. André, if you can hear me, hurry.

  I’m going as fast as I can. Just hang on.

  André’s response made Matthew smile and the knowledge that he lived allowed Matthew to harness what was left of his strength. Love you, kiddo. He pushed the thought to André and with the last vestige of his strength, he focused on the emperor, willing whatever damage he was capable of inflicting.

  The emperor’s forearm split to the bone, bringing forth a roar of pain and frustration.

  Matthew’s throat burst open but he was beyond pain. He forced a smile of satisfaction before the darkness dragged him away.

  Chapter 28

  “NO!” Sam’s voice echoed with heart pounding panic. The sight of the arterial spray arcing from his grandfather’s throat unlocked his paralysis and he stepped into the shadows as the emperor’s gaze passed over where he stood.

  Hide, baby, please hide. His mother’s voice assaulted his mind.

  He swallowed the lump of fear in his throat, blinking back the sudden burn of tears. His grandfather’s passing hit him harder than a sucker punch, leaving a hollowness in his stomach. The injustice and brutality of his murder bloomed, bringing with it an anger that straightened his back and set his jaw tight.

  If he had been a few seconds faster, his grandfather wouldn’t have died, and he was damned if he was going to let this monster kill his mother too.

  “No, Mom, I won’t hide,” he whispered and stepped into view.

  The emperor’s reaction brought a smile to Sam’s face.

  Fear.

  He saw fear in the bastard’s eyes. His smile faltered when the emperor stepped behind his mother, using her as a shield.

  You coward.

  His anger morphed into hatred. Hatred so strong that it sprung a life of its own, traveling through his bloodstream like a ravaged monster, and he took a step in the direction of the field, reveling in the power flashing in his veins.

  “Well, well, well,” the emperor said, staring at Sam. “You were hiding something after all.”

  “Don’t hurt my baby,” she whispered, the microphone picking up the plea and broadcasting it through the stadium.

  “I’m going to take great pleasure pulling him apart, piece by piece,” he said and stood, his words producing a fear in his mother’s face, one Sam couldn’t abide seeing.

  With each step, he felt the power coiling into a tight ball, like a cobra ready to strike. He didn’t need to scan the crowd to pinpoint where the rest of the Zyclonian army stood; he felt them, sensed their stalking, murdering eyes watching him descend the stairs in the silent arena.

  Protect yourself, the panicked voice of his mother whispered in his mind. Their eyes met and hers went wide. Pain filled his mind as her scream carried through the stadium.

  ANDRÉ RAN THROUGH THE entrance, his heart throbbing in his chest and his lungs screaming from exertion. Katrina’s scream filled his head and echoed throughout the stadium, cutting off abruptly.

  “NO!” Sam’s scream overrode Katrina’s, and André emerged onto the field in time to see Sam crossing at full tilt, an angry mask of murder transforming his young face. Instead of attacking the emperor, André ran straight at his son, tackling him before the emperor could gather another targeted strike.

  Sam’s fury radiated off him as much as his building power and André shuddered at the consequences if Sam let that ball loose. He held his flailing son tightly to his chest as they rolled and whispered in his ear, “I need you to control your power, Sam.”

  “They killed Mom,” Sam said when they stopped rolling.

  “I know,” André said. He stood, facing the emperor with his arms still wrapped around Sam. He pushed Sam behind him and out of the emperor’s strike line. Fury, raw and wild, snaked through him, almost getting away from him as his peripheral vision picked up the remains of his wife and father.

  A Zyclonian soldier stepped forward.

  “Watch out,” Sam whispered and André felt a stinger of power escape from his son.

  The soldier screamed.

  “Don’t torture him, Sam,” André said, his eyes never leaving the emperor’s. “Just kill him.”

  Sam obeyed his father and the soldier’s chest exploded.

  “You killed my wife,” André said, not allowing the lion’s share of emotions tied to that statement to surface. Fury was the only allowance.

  Another Zyclonian soldier stepped onto the field.

  André raised his hand and the soldier evaporated to dust, the level of controlled power erupting a gasp from Sam.

  “How very humane of you,” the emperor said stepping into the open space between the two halves of Katrina, forcing André to see how his wife died.

  André looked at the halved remains of his wife and shock racked his brain. The bastard had split her right down the middle from head to crotch. A clean slice like he had run her through a particularly sharp industrial table saw. On the heels of shock came the full force of loss, punching him in the gut. He shoved aside the urge to crumple to the ground and let the emperor kill him.

  The only reason he remained standing was the boy behind him. “You bastard,” he whispered,
blinking back the tears. His shoulder split open.

  The emperor smiled. “Emotion still rules you, just like your parents.”

  “Perhaps, but this time, you are on my turf. This is my country, my planet,” he growled taking another step forward. “This is the United States of America and it is not for the taking.” He stood a fraction taller, the words like his own personal talisman projecting his powerful voice through the silent stadium.

  Cheers erupted.

  “Take the soldiers out, Sam,” André said over his shoulder. “Just like I did.”

  Sam wasn’t as humane or as clean as André and the soldiers exploded.

  André tilted his head and glared at the emperor. “It’s just you and me now.”

  “And your son,” the emperor said.

  Sam cried out and André twirled catching him before he hit the ground. Sam whimpered, grasping his leg, holding the wound the emperor created. He set Sam on the ground meeting his gaze.

  André stood, turning back toward the emperor with his thoughts on lockdown. He needed to put distance between the emperor and his son and the only way to do that was offering himself as bait.

  “I bet you wouldn’t be able to take me with just your bare hands,” he growled, playing on the emperor’s vanity and giving Sam time to glean the plan from his mind. He had a way of stopping the emperor, but he needed his son’s superior control because his was just about tapped.

  “The thought of squeezing that scrawny throat of yours until you die is tempting.”

  “You don’t have the guts,” André spat, positioning himself so he was blocking the emperor’s direct line of sight to Sam. He caught a glimpse of himself in the side projection, his bright blue irises outlined with laser red, reminding everyone in the viewing audience that he wasn’t human.

  The emperor laughed and took a step toward André.

  André circled as the emperor approached, putting his wounded shoulder behind the line of his body, trying to protect Sam as long as he could. He left his hands loose and elbows slightly bent so he could strike out with his fists if the emperor took the bait. In his mind, he replayed the scene fifteen years before, the way his fists felt punching Captain Trevor and feeling his nose break, broadcasting the little show so the emperor picked it up instead of the underlying current between André and Sam.

  When he stepped to the side, leaving Sam unprotected, his heart leapt into his throat and he taunted the emperor. “Come on; let’s see what you’ve got.” The words rumbled from his chest.

  The punch came from nowhere and tossed André onto his ass. He scrambled to his feet. “I figured you wouldn’t play fair.” André smiled; his eyes moved past the emperor and met his son’s. “Now, Sam.”

  The emperor fell to his knees under the power Sam unleashed and André felt it sizzling in the air, begging to do more than just hold the emperor in place, containing the emperor’s power to a six-inch radius around him.

  “Sam, just hold him there,” André said, still meeting his son’s gaze. I promise the bastard will pay, but not at our hands. A part of André smiled at the same words his father said to him years ago and then he focused back on the emperor.

  He rubbed his chin. “Now, what was the reason you exiled me at six?” he inquired, tapping his finger on his lips. “Oh, now I remember.” He looked at his son. “It was the prophecy. Supposedly a boy with blue eyes would either rule or destroy Zyclon,” he said and glanced back at the emperor.

  Sam pleaded with his gaze and André shook his head. He wanted everyone on the battle ship to hear this. He wanted his home planet to know what their emperor was made of. “The prophecy was bullshit, wasn’t it?”

  The emperor glared at André and sent the silent command to the warship to send the fighter fleet.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” André said and looked up at the sky, unleashing the power and fury inside him before the battleship could fire on the domes. The air in the stadium changed, rippling around André as a powerful blast shot out through the opening in the stadium ceiling, passing through the solid sphere of the dome and annihilating the fighter planes. He took it a step further and destroyed the flight deck on the warship, disabling their ability to fire on Earth.

  The stadium roared as the television screens switched to show the disintegration of the fighter jets in space.

  André staggered a step and shook the cobwebs of exhaustion from his head. He glanced back at the emperor. “Tell them the real reason you killed my parents and sent me packing,” he demanded, circling again. “Tell us all.” He looked around the stadium, his eyes falling on the remains of Katrina and Matthew. His face contorted with rage, pushing the tiredness from his bones. He stepped closer to the emperor, slamming his fist into the man’s face. “Tell them!”

  The emperor glared at André, blood gushing from his broken nose.

  “Since you seem to be without words, I think I’ll clue everyone in on just how much of a bastard you really are.” André stepped away. “You manipulated Zyclonian prophecy to suit your own needs. The prophecy that I read stated a mad tyrant would destroy Zyclon, not a blue-eyed boy. Not the heir to the throne.”

  The emperor struggled to break free of the invisible bonds that held him in place.

  “You conveniently targeted my blue eyes, because I was different,” André growled. “It didn’t matter that I was your nephew. It didn’t matter that I had legitimate claim to the throne. All that mattered to you was power and control, and with me and my parents alive, that threatened all you built. All you stole.” André looked around the stadium and up at the displays. “So tell me, Emperor,” he said, his voice filled with bitter sarcasm, “did you fulfill the prophecy? Did you destroy Zyclon?”

  Silence fell over the crowd and he looked up at the screens, feeling the pause of the warship crew.

  “You are an abomination,” the emperor hissed.

  André laughed. “You killed your own sister and sent your nephew into space to die. I think you’ve got the corner on that market.” He looked in the direction of his dead wife. “I’ve waited over twenty-five years for payback,” he said, glancing over at Sam, “and you’ve destroyed almost everything I cared about.” His vision clouded with red tears. “And as much as I want to see you die for what you have done...” He trailed off as the tears spilled. “I can’t kill you in cold blood. That would make me no better than you,” he said and walked toward Sam.

  “And my father taught me better than that,” he whispered and stopped behind the emperor. He put his hand on the back of his head and with a vicious mental yank, he slammed the barrier in the emperor’s mind closed, shutting all traces of his inhuman power.

  “But I can take away your power,” he said over the emperor’s cry of pain.

  André dropped his hand and turned toward his son.

  “He killed Papa and Mom,” Sam said as André approached.

  André nodded. “But that doesn’t make it right for me to kill him. Too many have already died.”

  “He declared war,” Sam whispered.

  “He did more than that, Sam. He destroyed Zyclon,” André said, looking at the display now broadcasting the interior of the warship control room, and received a nod from the acting commander of the Zyclonian fleet. “It’s over now and he’ll stand trial for his crimes.” He put his arm around Sam, turning him away from the carnage. “Let him go.”

  SAM RELEASED THE EMPEROR, squashing the urge to shatter the bastard’s bones to a pulp where he stood. His gaze fell on his mother and tremors started in his stomach, spiraling outward while sobs ripped from his chest.

  Cal’s wide eyes caught his attention and then his father lurched forward onto his knees, his breath a wincing wheeze of an exhale. No inhale followed and his father fell forward with a dagger sticking out of his back.

  Sam spun around, fury lining the power, transforming it into a wild beast, and he let loose.

  The skin peeled from the emperor, his scream a fraction of a second
too late, but when it came, it echoed like a frightened little girl.

  Sam crossed the distance and plunged his hand inside the man’s chest. “You won’t be needing this, but my father will,” he said and ripped out the emperor’s heart. He stood in the center of the football stadium, holding the muscle in his hand, reeling in his power and focusing it on keeping the heart beating and strong.

  The emperor keeled backwards, dying like he lived—heartless.

  Epilogue

  The sounds of the heart monitor and the swish of the ventilator registered in his fog-ridden brain. André’s eyes fluttered open. The bright lights of the operating room made him squeeze his eyes shut again. He welcomed the darkness.

  You can’t stay, her voice whispered in his ear.

  But I want to be with you, he said, straining to see her in the mist.

  Katrina stepped into view. We will be together again someday. But right now, Sam needs you. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. I love you. Katrina faded, mixing in with the smoky mist.

  “Don’t go!” André yelled and sat up in the recovery room.

  Cal looked up from the chart. “It’s about time you came back to us.”

  “Kat,” André whispered, looking around the room. He glanced back at Cal. Slowly, the events of the past couple of days filtered back into his consciousness. André lay back on the pillow and covered his face with his hands. “She’s dead,” he said, finally allowing the despair to take hold.

  Cal put the chart down. “We thought we lost you, too.”

  “My father’s gone.”

  “Yes.”

  “Please tell me Sam’s okay.” He looked beyond his fingers.

  “Sam’s just fine.” Cal smiled. “He’s with your mother. They’re waiting to see you.” He handed André a wet washcloth and let out a small chuckle. “I’m not sure what to call you. Is it Commander or Your Highness?”