But every part of her screamed run. It was fire. They were burning.
“No,” she whispered, not caring that Logan might hear. “No.” She might have said more, might have told herself that this wasn’t what she’d seen, this wasn’t how she would die. But she couldn’t; she couldn’t speak because she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get air. They were suffocating. Her lungs protested, but she forced herself to stay still. She could not run. She could not die.
The sudden roar from the raging fire was gone, disappeared as quickly as it had come on, and Brianna’s ears rang in the silence. No one spoke, only allowing for the ragged intake of breath. She wouldn’t look to them yet. She wouldn’t see if they lived.
She couldn’t do anything, because she could feel the ancient shadows now, the certainty inside her that said danger like no other warning she’d ever felt. This was it. It was them.
She twisted her fingers into Logan’s, squeezing hard. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “No matter what, stay by my side.”
Logan tightened his grip, pulling her to stand, and said, “Till my last breath.”
But he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring toward what was left of the warehouse, a large open space that no longer held pillars and boxes. It was metal framework and busted block; it was a broken ceiling and bits of sky. And it was darkness, a creeping, terrifying sense of certain death. He had to have felt it, too.
Brianna opened her mouth to speak, to say some last, confidence-inducing words, but they caught in her throat as the steel-framed shipping containers began to slide slowly across the floor. They made a low grating noise, crawling toward her, and then their speed progressed, altering the growl of metal and concrete into an ear-splitting screech. The wind followed, rising from the floor in a steady gust that swelled into a gale. Her sense of dread increased with the current, her skin burning as bits of debris, sand, and stone rushed past. It was then that she smelled it, the strange, stinging sensation of sulfur, like a freshly lit match.
She was drawn to it, unable to look away, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Emily waiting. Brianna had explained to the others, told them what to expect. These shadows were not here to talk. They wouldn’t make a show of this. They were only here to watch her die.
But Brianna hadn’t explained everything. She hadn’t told them her plan. Lacing her fingers tighter in Logan’s, she walked forward, pressing hard against the onslaught of wind and stone. At the far side of the building, the walls began to rip free, torn away from the structure as if a tornado pulled at them. It was a solid roar, but this was no storm. The sky was bright, an approaching brilliance that only magnified the scale of what was coming. She knew they weren’t doing it to scare her. They didn’t care about the others, didn’t care if the outside world would see. It was over for them. This was their endgame, their chance to take the prize.
They weren’t there to put on a display or boast of their power. They only wanted the lot of them visible, Brianna and Emily out in the open.
To make easier targets.
The destruction grew closer, throwing concrete and trees, everything in its path outward, and Brianna knew she didn’t have more than a few seconds. She turned to Logan, hand still clasped within his, and said, “It’s time.”
He looked at her then, taking his eyes off the approaching threat, and in that instant, that one shared moment of understanding no longer than the blink of an eye, something struck his chest.
Logan was thrown to the ground, the force of it pulling Brianna with him. Their hands remained connected, his grip dragging her nearly on top of him. She landed hard, slamming a knee into the cement floor, and her free hand caught his side, keeping her head from hitting as well. She stared at his chest, unable to see a wound or rend, but he didn’t move. She felt the pulse of him, the grip of his hand and the network of fibers within, mending, working to bring him back to her.
She glanced up, seeing for the first time the shadows in the here and now.
Chapter Thirty-three
Brianna
They were taller than she expected, more solid. The visions had come so quickly that she’d not had time to focus on their actual appearance. Dark hair and hard lines, unaged skin flawless beyond their power to heal. Their eyes were also dark, but something radiated from within. Something powerful, molten.
She forced her gaze from that stare, taking in their forms. One was lean and fit, out of place in his custom tailored suit. It was like watching a millionaire stand in the middle of a hurricane, unruffled as the wind licked at the hem of his sport coat. The second was thicker, broad shoulders sharp against the backdrop of sun and sky. They moved coolly, with purpose. Entirely in control.
It reminded Brianna of Callan, so sure of himself, confident, completely unemotional, and she hesitated, her palm pressing on Logan’s chest. It only took that one instant, that one flash of uncertainty to change everything. A wave of visions so horrifying they stole her breath slammed into her, knocking her back to the floor. There was death and blood, thousands of bodies strewn slipshod through the streets, fire and destruction, the complete ruin of government and structure and basic life. They didn’t want to just rule, they wanted to destroy, to bring things to their archaic state, where the shadows held domain over everything. Where the humans, the Seven were of no consequence at all.
Where there was nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
A wave of nausea, an all-encompassing impression of defeat tried to overwhelm her, to press her down into darkness and crush her beneath its weight. She was drifting, losing all that held her in place, until he clutched her, squeezing so tight that she couldn’t help but acknowledge his presence. Logan. It was Logan. She grasped at his hand, clung to his connection like it was the only thing keeping her alive, the only thing saving her from drowning in that unknown.
Because it was.
She didn’t have a moment to realize what was happening, that they were pushing her to do this, that the dread was not her own. All she could do was move forward, to drag herself free of that burden and shove every ounce of energy she could muster into completing her task. Logan.
It was Logan.
“The bond,” she whispered, and suddenly she could breathe again, feel the concrete beneath her knees, the rise and fall of Logan’s chest below her palm, and his hand, his undeniable hold on the now. This was it.
She wasn’t sure if Logan had realized what she was doing. She didn’t know if he had suspected her plan, if some part of him had expected what was to come. But the connection fell together with a swiftness and surety that surprised her. It was that one detail, the ease of their bond, that gave her the advantage she’d need.
The futures spun, flipping into place like the shuffle of cards, a flash of outcomes that rolled before her almost too quick, and then fell home as smooth as the tumblers in a lock. She saw the right path. She found their escape.
A flare of power burst from the shadows, heading for Brianna with what was no question a deadly blow. She could see it, clearer than her own, stronger than her own, and she’d no time to contest it. But it didn’t matter if it hit her. It only mattered that the ancients were stopped.
She roared, pushing off of Logan with a ferocity and strength she’d only known that instant. The earth shifted, gravity spiking as Logan seized the power within their bond. She could see Emily in her vision, in that second part of her mind, and knew this was the only course. A blast tore from her, a blistering, all-searing power that swallowed every other energy in the room.
And time stood still.
There was the flash of steel as Kara spun toward the shadows, her clenched fist guiding the blade of a short, spiked knife. The report of weapons as the soldiers fired upon shadow guards, the blur of Eric’s bulk slamming into them, an inhumanly agile maneuver by Seth. All of it happened so fast, all of it in that one frozen second. And then Aern was there. Aern and Emily and the twisting, frenetic mass of bodies that swarmed the ancient shad
ows caught in Brianna’s snare. It would not last long. Even with her true power returned, Brianna could not hold that force—that single detonation that negated their power—for more than a moment.
But they didn’t need her to.
Emily screamed, tearing free of the grasping hands of the first shadow in order to grab the second, and Aern’s palms pressed to the man’s head, shoving a command through his pulse with everything he had. Eric had been sliced across the abdomen, a spray of blood painting the floor where he fell. Seth and Kara clung to their target, but neither had fared much better. Blood ran from Daniels’ face, but Brianna could see that he and the others were facing the guards with more proficiency than the last time they’d battled a shadow, and between the lot of them, and the brief, unexpected loss of power all around, the Seven were winning out.
They had done it.
It was a full minute before she realized she was shaking. Two more before she could convince herself to stop. Her hands passed over her chest, astonished that Logan’s spike had saved her from the discharge of power intending to end her, incredulous at the scene before her. The whole thing had happened so fast that she had trouble believing it had happened at all.
Apparently, she wasn’t alone. Several of the others sat stunned, staring at the tangle of bodies that had moments ago been the deadliest, most powerful creatures they’d known. It was over, and most of them had no true idea—aside from a raging fire and hurricane-force winds—what had even passed.
The building had fallen away. Everything but part of the back wall and a few distorted support beams had been broken to dust and scattered across the property’s lawn. Hunks of metal lay mangled amongst the debris; shattered fence posts and sections of roll-up doors littered what was once the tree-covered lot between the storehouse and main road.
There was no sign of Callan, of another shadow, of any of this property’s guards or staff. It was silent. Still.
Wrong.
Emily stood, brushing sand and dirt from the torn thigh of her jeans. Aern was a little less steady on his feet, having taken a blow to the head, and Kara knelt before Eric, digging in her cargo pocket for tape and bandages to help close his wound as the healing progressed. It was too late for the ancients. Brianna had instructed the others to do what had to be done.
There was no stopping them, no leaving them be. There was only the end.
She swallowed hard, turning to face Logan, to be sure he’d recovered before moving to help the others. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air for what might have been the first time since he’d been struck, and hugged her to his chest. “It’s over,” he promised, “it’s all going to be fine.”
She choked on the feeling of relief, barking out what was not entirely a laugh, and they moved together toward the others. The sudden stillness was gone, replaced by shuffling feet and confirmations of a kind of roll call. She stood in the center of the floor, her sister beside her as they took stock of the aftermath, and then Aern’s gaze set on the only remaining row of trees and Brianna’s heart went cold.
Logan cursed.
All eyes fell to the line of figures approaching from the west, the sun at their backs. They were of average height, and though their expressions were not especially menacing, the group of five wore long, white silk cloaks and moved in a striking synchronism that made Brianna’s skin crawl. The air grew still and she realized it was not the spectacle that was sending tingles over her skin, however disturbing it might be. It was the recognition, that instinct inside her that said shadow.
The line stopped a dozen paces before them and Emily leaned sideways a fraction of an inch, not taking her eyes off the scene to whisper, “I forgot to ask, do all of the shadows want to kill us?”
Brianna didn’t answer, but the warning inside her did not scream run. She felt the calmness in Aern, too, the way he stood at ease on Emily’s other side, waiting. It was over. They were safe.
They had to be.
The row of shadows moved, raising their hands to draw the hoods of their cloaks back and reveal their faces. Brianna felt those around her let out a collective breath, because the sinister air about them was suddenly gone. There were five of them, all women, but no two alike. Beneath their cloaks, they were just people. Shadows, but not threatening, somehow almost serene and pleasant. Not that they were smiling.
A tallish brunette with olive skin stood on the end, eyes roaming the crowd, and Brianna realized the others had moved. The soldiers of the Seven were gathering behind her. She scanned the line, hoping for some jolt of recognition, some sign from her vision, but there was nothing. Her gaze caught on the farthest shadow, white-blonde hair and faint blue eyes, but the woman did not so much as blink in recognition.
The centermost woman stepped forward, her hands crossing in front of her to clasp, elbows-out in a strange, formal posture. She inclined her head, bowing slightly over them, and said, “The sisters Drake.”
It was clearly meant as a greeting, but Brianna was dumbfounded as to how to respond. Emily, not so much.
“Who are you?” she asked, plainly ready to get this over with.
“We are the prophets,” the woman answered. “The last remaining seers of the ancient line.” Her hands dropped from their pose, falling to the side to give her stance a more normal appearance. Though Emily had asked the question, the woman had never taken her eyes off Brianna. “We have used our power to help guide you,” she said. “To bring this end despite fortune’s will to have it otherwise.”
Brianna glanced at the bodies of the ancients on the floor between them, finally beginning to understand what Callan had meant. “They were using you,” Brianna said, “and Callan kept you from seeing where Emily and I were, what we were capable of.”
The woman’s expression did not change. “The son of Acacius was of no consequence. We let him live as a means to an end. So that he would bring you to us.” She gestured toward the ground. “To this.”
To kill the ancients who were using the prophets for their own gain.
“So the prophecy…” Brianna said.
“The prophecy is real,” the woman replied. “But those who hold the prophecies hold the future.”
She got a flash then, the briefest impression of these five prophets, separated in chambers and unable to communicate or coordinate the lies they would tell the ancients. No way of keeping one another safe without hiding all truth. Callan hadn’t used them, they had used Callan. But they had told the ancients Brianna and Emily would destroy the world with their rule? Or had she meant the other prophecy was true, the one regarding Emily?
The woman smiled, a knowing look. She saw that the questions were there, saw they were purposely being left unsaid. She was no stranger to the obligations of a prophet. “We have done what we can for now, Brianna Drake. We have changed this fate so that we may all survive.”
Brianna’s thoughts were racing, going back over every vision and clue she’d gathered the last few weeks. It was not a coincidence that she’d envisioned the ancients Callan was blocking her from. Not an accident he’d kept it all hidden.
“You sent me the dreams,” she whispered.
“Dreams are practice for the real world, Brianna. Even the basest of creatures use them to prepare for the hunt, or to learn when to run.” Her gaze narrowed on the sky, a brief glance reminiscent of someone checking their watch, and in the small interval of silence, the white-blonde woman’s eyes flicked to Kara.
Brianna opened her mouth to speak, but the center woman’s words cut her off. “Rest now, Miss Drake. Enjoy the anonymity these times provide you. There will be occasion for answers later.” Her smile returned, dazzling. “There are some futures we cannot escape.” She reached a hand forward, where it curled low, a smooth pattern that must have been another shadow gesture foreign to only Brianna and Emily, and said, “We will meet again soon, for it seems our paths are irrevocably intertwined.”
The woman’s smile faded as she turned, walking through h
er space in their line to leave Brianna and the Seven in bewildered silence, and the remaining prophets inclined their heads as they turned to follow.
Those who hold the prophecies hold the future.
Brianna had borne her share of secrets. She understood what it was like to see the things that were coming. But she knew the statement had meant more than this woman had let on. It was something deeper, more sinister than she cared to contemplate just yet.
They watched in silence as the prophets disappeared into the line of trees, no one speaking despite their apparent safety. The stillness wasn’t broken until Brianna moved, turned to her sister beside her to stare into her eyes, the same deep green as her own.
It should have been over. They should have been safe.
Chapter Thirty-four
Brianna
Brianna slept for three days. The fourth was spent helping Aern make the best decisions for his Council plans with the aid of her new, clearer visions. There would be no more Division, because no dissention remained anywhere among the ranks of the Seven Lines. They all followed Aern now, their rightful leader, and, Brianna suspected, held just as much allegiance to Emily. Eric and Seth had taken up the slack on some of the security issues now that Council held both the Division properties and their own. Kara had been doing her part, as well as remaining loyal to Aern, but Brianna had not forgotten the look that had passed between her and the blue-eyed prophet. Wesley was given a seat among the Council elders, and he and Ellin were working to make the changes needed now that the old threats and their old leaders were gone.
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