by M. R. Forbes
She didn’t even move. One moment, Ursan was on top of her. The next, her Gift had pummeled him, blasting him away before he could react, knocking him back and into the wall of the warehouse.
He landed on his feet, looking at her, a smile spreading.
“I didn’t want it to be that easy,” he said.
He shouted and charged at her, coming so fast she could barely believe it.
It didn’t matter. She put her hand up, and he hit it like he was hitting a wall. He stopped in his tracks, his body contorting against the sudden barrier, his bones breaking. He fell back.
She stood over him, holding out her hands. She had never seen it happen before, but now she watched as her fingers extended, the ends becoming a silvery gray that ended in slightly curved points. The anger was nearly overwhelming her. She could feel her heart thumping, and her face felt like it was on fire.
“Ursan,” she said, fighting to keep control over it. “I don’t want to kill you. We can work together against Thraven. We can stop him from destroying the Outworlds and the Republic both. He wants something, something he needs our planets, our individuals, to get. I have a vague idea from data I found.”
“You can’t kill me,” Ursan said, his body healing. “You only have half.”
He spread his hands, his body alighting in flame, the same way Trin’s had. He pushed his palms out toward her. She was too close to avoid it.
She didn’t need to. It washed over her, surrounding but not burning. She felt a tickle against her flesh, and she could see a shimmer of her Gift against her body, protecting her from the attack.
Ursan’s eyes grew big as he stared up at her, and he shook his head. “What?” he said. “What are you? What are you?”
The flames died out. Tears streamed from his eyes. He moved slowly, pulling himself to his hands and knees facing her. She watched and waited, confused by his sudden fear and weakness.
“What are you?” he said again.
“I don’t know what-”
She didn’t finish the sentence. He sprang toward her again, a gun appearing in his hand. He put it beneath her chin.
He never got to fire. Her hand finished its arc, her fingers digging in deep, slicing through the front of his neck. He stood directly ahead of her, frozen for a moment as his system tried to recover.
She didn’t let it. She tore the gun away with one hand, placing the other behind his neck and pulling across. The motion finished the separation between his head and his body, and the two disconnected pieces fell to the ground.
Abbey stood over him, her chest heaving, her entire body burning.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood like that, looking down at him. She stared at the blood that poured from his veins, dark and thick and full of the Gift. She remembered the taste of Emily Eagan’s blood. The hint of incredible power. She wanted it. She wanted another taste. She wanted to drink it all. To add this power to hers.
No, she didn’t. She stopped herself. She heard someone clapping. Clapping
“The Father writes that the true strength of God lies in his ruins. What has been, has been to fulfill the Covenant. Abigail Cage, you are the proof.”
Abbey turned around, just in time to see the man step out of the shadows in the corner of the warehouse. He was wearing a plain gray cloak on top of a black uniform. He was old but handsome in a powerful way. Two soldiers flanked him on either side, all in black, their heads hidden behind dark helmets.
“My name is Selvig Thraven, Gloritant of the Nephilim,” he said, approaching her. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
40
“You’re Thraven?” Abbey said, turning to face him. She could still feel the Gift beneath her skin. She could still feel her fury. She hadn’t wanted to kill Ursan Gall. This asshole had left her no choice. “I thought you would be taller.”
The corner of his lip crinkled in a slightly amused smile. “You feel it, don’t you, Abigail? The Blood of Life. The power of a god.” He smiled more fully. “The power of a god.”
There was movement near the stairs. Airi and Bastion, along with Dak. They came out with their weapons drawn, pointed at Thraven.
He barely reacted. A slight nod and their weapons were wrenched away, clattering to the ground ahead of them.
“Don’t hurt them,” Abbey said.
“Why not?” Thraven asked. He didn’t bother to spare them a glance. “You don’t understand yet, Abigail. To use a Terran expression, they are like unto sheep in a confused flock. They don’t understand what is going to happen to them, so they don’t know to be afraid. We were there when your kind was created, Abigail. We were there with the Shard. We created man, we created tro, we created lru and ganetan and atmin. We created all of the species. All of the intelligence. That means that they are ours to use as we will. As are you.”
“Bullshit,” Abbey said. “I don’t know who or what you think you are, other than an asshole with some fragged up tech. I’m not going to let you trample your way across the Republic or the Outworlds.”
“You can’t stop me,” Thraven said. “Not even you. Your power is impressive. It is so much more than I ever imagined it could be. The Gift overcomes most humans. Most, but not all. Some are special. Some have the potential to become Evolents, the true harbingers of the Return. Your anger makes you strong.”
He lifted a finger. Abbey felt a sudden pressure at her neck. It was familiar to her. Clyo had tried to choke her the same way. She felt her neck burn, her body fighting to remain free to breathe. The Gift was reacting to whatever Thraven was doing. She felt as though it wanted to listen to him, to comply with his desire to choke her.
It had submitted to her once before, and it would submit to her again. She directed her energy inward, refusing to allow the reaction. She stared at Thraven, defiant.
“You’ve been challenged,” he said, surprised. “And you’ve asserted.”
“You can’t just lift your finger and choke me to death if that’s what you mean,” she replied.
“What did you see when you closed your eyes?”
“A flash of light.”
He smiled. “The honor and glory that you could possess, Abigail, if you were to accept what I can offer you. It can’t be described in words alone. The light you saw, that was a symbol of that power. The Gift isn’t darkness. It isn’t evil. Come with me, and I will show you.”
“How can you say it isn’t evil when you’re using it to destroy?” Abbey said.
“Do you call it destruction when you catch a fish?” Thraven said. “Do you call it murder when you slaughter a sheep for food? I’m preparing the harvest. I’m leading this place forward, to where it was always intended to be. It is written by the Father in the Covenant, and so it shall come to pass. The Great Return. The fall and the rise of the Nephilim and their children.”
“It looks like killing to me,” Bastion said. “If the battlesuit fits.”
Thraven’s eyes shifted to him, and Bastion fell to the ground.
“Don’t,” Abbey said. “Lucifer, shut it.”
“Lucifer?” Thraven said. “Can you imagine all of the ways that you take the name of the Father in vain?” He curled his hand, and Bastion’s body began to crumple in on itself. “Even the place where you came from. Hell? That’s not the place of the Father. It’s a twisted lie. The victorious should be remembered. The victorious should be revered. Not forgotten. Not waiting in the Extant for thousands of years.” He lowered his hand, letting Bastion go. “But you don’t know the truth. I can change your universe, Abigail. I can show you the truth, as I showed Trinity the truth. She joined me because she knew my cause is right. That it is just.”
“She joined you because she was a power hungry bitch,” Abbey replied. “You lied to Ursan. You told him you were a General, fighting for the Outworlds against the Republic. He had no idea what he was fighting for.”
“Do you have any idea what you’re fighting against?”
“I know you took people from Hell and turned them
into monsters. I know you’re making shitty analogies to justify murder.”
“I gave purpose back to the purposeless. Power back to the powerless.”
“What about the ships? The Fire and the Brimstone, and the technology that powers them?”
“Humans exist to be used. They were created to be used. But this isn’t about that. This is about you. This is about your power. Your place in the universe. To think my original purpose for you was to capture a single mainframe. A simple task for someone like you. I didn’t know what you were capable of. The speed and strength at which it has manifested is beyond anything I have encountered since I arrived here. There is more to you than simple tasks. More to you than these Lessers can ever understand. Haven’t you ever wondered if there was more to life than what you know? If there was more to the universe than senseless conflicts over planets and resources so clearly in abundance?”
Abbey couldn’t help but consider it. She had been content as a Breaker, and she wanted to get back to her daughter. Outside of that? She had never thought about it. The Gift was forcing her to. She could feel it beneath her skin. She could sense the pull of it from the blood on the ground behind her. She could hear it in Thraven’s voice. What if there was more to life? What if she were meant for bigger, grander things?
“You’re thinking about it now,” Thraven said. “You’re wondering if there is some new, exciting purpose to your existence. One that escaped you until this very moment. That’s why I came, Abigail. That’s why I’m here in person. You are meant for better things. You are intended to share in the glory of the Great Return. It is promised by the Father in the Covenant. As a champion. As a High Evolent. As a Queen.”
Abbey stared at Thraven. Her heart was racing, her blood thumping in her veins. “Ursan. He looked at me like I was something else. Something inhuman. What’s happening to me?”
“The Blood of Life is in your veins,” Thraven said. “You can control it somewhat. You cannot stop it. It is changing your DNA. Re-wiring your genetics. Making you into something more.” He paused. “And something less.”
“The other half of the Gift?” she asked.
“Eighty percent of those given the Gift either die or lose themselves almost immediately, their minds and bodies too weak to handle it. Those minds that are lost can be controlled, and they become part of my army. The other twenty percent have the same potential you do. Well, not the same potential. But without the other half, you will succumb to the changes sooner or later. You will become nothing more than a monster driven by violence and anger and lust and greed and hate. A demon, as the heroes of the Nephilim including the Father, eventually became. The other half allows you to control your change. It increases your ability in ways you can’t imagine. It grants you true immortality and agelessness, so long as you keep your head.”
Abbey stared at Thraven. Was he telling her the truth? Would she really become a monster if she refused him? Airi had seen her eyes change. Ursan Gall had been terrified of her at the end. Were those hints of what was to come? She knew something was happening to her, but she didn’t feel angrier or more hateful than normal.
Or did she? Would she have jettisoned Coli from the airlock so callously two months ago? She wasn’t sure.
“What if I’ve taken the blood of someone who has both parts?” she asked. “What if I tasted Venerant Alloran’s blood?”
Thraven’s eyes lit up in a way that terrified her. “Come with me, Abigail. Leave this simplicity behind. Accept the rest of the Gift. Allow yourself to evolve.”
“You have to be kidding me,” Bastion said. “Queenie, you can’t possibly be considering this bullshit? He’s lying to you.”
Abbey looked back at the Rejects. What the hell was she supposed to do? They couldn't fight Thraven. Not like this. Maybe not ever. What was the choice then? Stay here and die, or go with him and live. It was the choice he knew she would have to make. The more she resisted the idea of his control, the more it became apparent that he had her right where he wanted her.
And he had done it so easily.
She needed power to stop this. Power only the Gift could give her. But if she went with him now, would she ever escape? Would she want to? If she were destined for something more, was it to be the one to destroy him, or to help him destroy everything else?
She had always believed destiny was what you made it, not some preordained bullshit. Olus had warned her about this in his own way. She knew what he would tell her to do.
But this was her life, damn it. Not Thraven’s. Not Olus’. Not the Republic’s. Hers.
Prove yourself worthy.
The Children had written it in blood on the floor of the workshop. Did they know how appropriate the statement was?
“I keep telling you assholes,” she said, holding her eyes on Thraven’s. “Go frag yourselves.”
She was probably going to die. The Rejects were going to die with her. But she couldn’t submit. Not to anyone. Not for any reason. Hayley would understand. If Thraven and his armies took Earth, she would fight him, and she would do it with every ounce of her soul, just like her mom.
Thraven’s smile vanished. He didn’t look angry or surprised. Only disappointed.
“I respect your decision, Abigail Cage. Now you must respect the consequences.”
He put up his hand. Then she was airborne, launching back toward the wall again. She hit it so hard it cracked around her, and she nearly went straight through. She landed on the ground in time to see the other Rejects on their knees, choking.
“Wait,” Airi said through it. “Gloritant Thraven. I. I want to go with you.”
Immediately Airi got to her feet, once again able to breathe. Bastion and Dak were still choking, clutching their throats as though that would save them.
“Fury?” Abbey said through still-healing lungs. “What the frag?”
Airi ignored her. “I’ve tasted it. From the blood on my sword. Trinity’s blood. I’ve tasted the Gift. I didn’t die. I didn’t go crazy. I don’t know how to control it yet, but I want to learn. I may not be as strong as Abbey, but I’m smart enough not to pass up the opportunity.”
Abbey’s anger doubled, the burning heat of it inching toward the surface. Was that why Airi had been looking at her that way.? Was that why she was immune to the Convert’s power? Not because she was better at being furious than the others, but because she had bartered her soul for the Gift.
Thraven glanced over at her and nodded. “Very well. Take your sword and prove yourself worthy.” He pointed at Bastion.
Airi looked over, pulling the katana from her back and walking over to the pilot. Bastion was suddenly able to breathe again, and his head tilted up toward Airi, his face twisted in anger.
“You traitorous bitch,” he said.
“I’m not going to spend the rest of my life powerless to the universe around me,” Airi said. “Not when I have a choice.”
Then the blade came forward, the tip of it spearing Bastion in the chest and sinking all the way through. She yanked it out just as quickly, turning to face Thraven as Bastion dropped forward to the ground.
“No,” Abbey said, the anger becoming too much to bear.
The Gift had never moved so quickly, had never felt so light and hot. She spread her hands out, rising to her feet as her entire body was engulfed in fire. It didn’t burn her. It sat on top of her, and she pushed it out toward Airi, intent on turning her to ash for her betrayal.
The flames only made it halfway, dispersing into nothing before they could cross the full distance. She whipped her head toward Thraven, who was holding his hand up and steady, his power easily destroying hers.
“What you could have been, Abigail Cage,” he said, shaking his head slightly, a flame of his own growing from his fingertips.
“Nephilim,” someone said from the other side of the room.
Thraven and Abbey both looked at once, to the two individuals who had suddenly appeared as though out of thin air. A male and a female
. The male was older, much older, with a white mohawk running down his head. He was wearing a silver lightsuit beneath a worn coat, a large ring on his finger, a gun in one hand and a strange kind of curved blade in the other. The woman was dressed in kind, but she was younger, her skin smooth and tight, her hair short and dark.
“Phanuel,” Thraven said. “You survived?”
“No thanks to your Father,” the man replied.
“You came for her?”
“I came for you.”
“You cannot defeat me. I have bathed in the blood of our brothers and sisters. I have taken more power than you have ever tasted. And yet, I am but the tip of the spear.”
“You and your kind took the One’s Gift and turned it from something beautiful to something repugnant. We knew you would be back. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Then you’ve been waiting to die.”
Phanuel shouted, bursting forward and firing the gun at Thraven at the same time he closed on him.
Thraven turned his flaming hand away from Abbey, directing it at the newcomer. It poured out toward him, but he dropped and rolled away, still shooting, his bullets hitting one of the guards standing beside the Gloritant.
“Lieutenant Cage,” the woman said, suddenly standing beside Abbey. “I am Jequn. We have to go.”
Abbey ignored her, finding Airi. She had backed away from Bastion, positioning herself closer to Thraven and his guards.
“I need to kill her first.”
“There is no time. The Children will be coming, and Phanuel cannot win this battle.”
“Then why is he fighting it?”
“To get you out.”
“Bastion.” She pointed to the downed pilot.
The woman looked at him. “He’s still alive.”
“I’m not leaving without him.”
Jequn moved to him, leaning down over him. Abbey looked back toward Thraven and Phanuel. The other man had tried to close on the Gloritant, but one of his guards had intervened, blocking his path. They were tangled in a furious melee, blades flashing and striking against one another. Thraven noticed her, raising a hand toward her again, only to have a bullet hit it and blast it into shreds.
