Theo snatched up the radio, fumbling it clumsily, then pressed a button and said, “Copy that…pal.”
“See you back at base, over.”
Theo put the radio aside and returned to his work. Diana grabbed a short sword and a shield from the racks.
“I don’t understand,” said Nim. “All the swords and stuff. Are Jason’s soldiers really tough enough to go up against bullets and bombs?”
“He’s going to deploy EMPs,” said Theo. He pointed to the screen, where a long string of text scrolled by. Diana’s confusion must have shown, because he continued. “An electromagnetic pulse. It’s not much different from lightning, just a lot bigger. It will disable all major weapons systems. No nukes, no missiles, no access to weapons stockpiles.”
“A fair fight,” murmured Diana. I wanted to remake the world.
“Sure,” said Theo. “If you’ve been taking your hero-blood vitamins. The Keralis Foundation has footholds all over the world. He’s going to throw us back to the Stone Age.”
“The Bronze Age,” corrected Nim.
“Was dying once today not enough for you?” said Theo.
Diana touched each of them on the shoulder, hoping they could get along well enough to manage this task.
“Stay quiet and stay safe,” she whispered, heading for the doors. “And lock up behind me.”
“Diana,” said Nim. “Kick Jason’s ass.”
She frowned, confused. “Specifically his ass?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Without looking up from the keys, Theo said, “New York tradition.”
Diana nodded and cracked the doors. She edged outside. The last of the day’s sunlight cast long shadows across the road. She’d hoped to be able to sneak up on Jason’s vehicle, but there was no time for stealth. The caravan was already moving.
Diana broke into a run. Instantly, she heard gunfire. She kept her shield up, hearing bullets ping against the metal. She sprinted ahead, slipping alongside the last truck in the caravan, keeping pace with it and using it for cover. She heard voices shouting and saw the lead cars put on speed as the truck beside her screeched to a halt.
She couldn’t afford to wait to see what emerged from it. She raced ahead and dove for the back of the Humvee, seizing the base of its metal bumper, using one hand to keep her shield above her, and the other to lift the vehicle’s back end off the ground.
The Humvee’s front wheels spun as it tried to surge forward. Diana gave a grunt of effort and planted her feet. A bullet struck her left thigh; another struck her calf, the pain coming in bright shocks that jolted through her body. She glanced behind her and saw soldiers pouring out of the other truck, racing toward her with guns drawn. They were far enough away that their weapons weren’t doing much damage, but she couldn’t maintain this position.
Diana sucked in a breath and flung her shield at them in a sweeping arc. She let go of the Humvee. It roared forward on a burst of speed. With a running leap, she sprang onto its back, charging up and over the roof. Gunfire exploded around her, the bullets striking her body in a painful hail. She ignored them and launched herself off the Humvee’s hood, directly into its path.
She rolled into a somersault, came up standing, and barely had time to plant her feet and turn, hands held out before her. The Humvee barreled into her, driving her backward, her sandals sliding over the pavement. The force of the impact quaked up her palms, and she gritted her teeth, bracing her shoulders, as the Humvee’s engine roared.
She heard footfalls, soldiers running toward her. How many? Ten? Twenty? More? How fast were they? How strong? Could she fight them all?
Diana looked to the west. The sun had turned a fiery red as it drew closer to the hills. How long did she have until it set completely? How long until darkness fell and their last chance vanished?
When a voice came over the radio declaring, “Sir, we have an incoming hostile,” Jason didn’t seem remotely concerned.
“Local law or big guns?”
“Uh, neither, sir. It’s that girl.”
Alia sat up straighter, the plastic zip ties around her wrists digging into her flesh.
“Girl?” Jason said, craning his neck as gunfire exploded behind them.
Alia was afraid to look, afraid to hope, but she made herself turn.
Diana, sprinting through a torrent of bullets, her shield raised above her head. She leapt forward and seized the rear bumper of the Humvee.
“That isn’t possible,” Jason said, his brow lowered as if he was trying to solve a particularly difficult equation. “Pinon drained her. No one can survive that.”
Men were descending on Diana, drawing closer, the gunfire growing louder. She hurled her shield at them and released the Humvee, but a moment later, Alia heard footsteps on the roof, and in the next second, Diana was standing in the Humvee’s path.
“Take her down,” said Jason.
The driver gunned the engine, and Alia screamed.
They struck Diana head-on, the impact throwing Alia forward against her seat belt. But Diana hadn’t moved. She was planted in the road, her lips drawn back over her teeth, her hands braced against the Humvee’s crossbar.
“My God,” Jason said, peering through the windshield, admiration in his voice. “Look at her.”
He didn’t sound scared. Alia wanted him to sound scared.
“Sir?” said the driver, unsure of himself.
“I want the prota guard. Swords and shields, no guns. Oh, and tell them to try and keep her alive if they can.”
How could he talk this way? As if this was a game—no, an experiment—and he couldn’t wait to record the outcome.
The soldier communicated the order over the radio, and in seconds Alia saw a wave of men flanking Diana as the Humvee’s wheels whirred.
“These are my finest soldiers,” Jason said. “They’ve been blessed with the strength of the greatest heroes to ever walk this earth, but they’ve never faced a challenge like Diana.”
Alia glared at him. “They’re no match for her.”
“Maybe not,” Jason acknowledged. “But they’ll make quite a mess of her while we wait for the sun to set.”
Fresh fury spiked through her. She pulled futilely at her cuffed hands. Diana was here, back from the dead, and Alia could do nothing to help her. She wanted to scream. All of this power inside her, an apocalypse waiting to be born, and what use was it to her?
“I wish we could stay to watch her fight,” Jason said as his prota guard advanced with swords and spears and…nets.
“Why do they have nets, Jason?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“I was shortsighted before. Okay,” he admitted with a small, painfully Jason shrug, “I was overeager. I shouldn’t have had Pinon drain her dry. Alive, she’ll provide me with a permanent supply of genetic material to work from.”
Something dark tore lose in Alia. Jason might not be right about their parents, but he wasn’t totally wrong, either. Her whole life, she’d been told to be careful, to keep her voice low, to make sure she only drew the right kind of attention. Stay calm. Don’t give them a reason. Don’t ever give them a reason. But she’d had a right to her anger then, and she had a right to it now. And what had being careful gotten her, anyway? There had to be justice for Theo, for Nim, for all the pain Jason had caused. Careful wasn’t going to get it. Nemesis. Goddess of retribution.
She heard the beat of wings and recoiled, thinking of Eris, but this sound came from within her, the rustle of something that had slept for too long. Haptandra. The hand of war. What if she were the one to reach for this power?
I am done being careful. I am done being quiet. Let them see me angry. Let them hear me wail at the top of my lungs. The sleeping thing stretched its wings, black and glossy, lit by dark fire. It rose, a dagger in its hand.
Nemesis. What if this power wasn’t only a curse but a gift, something unwieldy and dangerous, passed from a goddess to her daughter, and on
and on, something that longed to be used? What if it could be a weapon in Alia’s hand?
She closed her eyes and reached toward that dark, winged thing. She grabbed hold, fastening it to her, so that she was only anger now. Alia could almost feel the shift of wings between her own shoulder blades—and there was no fear, only a vibrant surety. This is mine. This is my right. She nudged at the power inside her and felt it take flight.
The soldier in the passenger seat lifted his radio and smashed it into the driver’s head. Jason flinched back as the driver turned on his attacker and they began to grapple in the front seat.
“Scholes!” Jason shouted as the driver took his foot off the pedal and the Humvee decelerated. “Chihara! What the hell are you doing?”
Alia opened her eyes, saw the ring of soldiers. She reached toward her power, and this time she shoved.
Suddenly, the soldiers outside were screaming, shouting, their swords clanging as they turned on one another.
“Damn it,” said Jason. “This must be because we’re so close to sunset.”
“Yeah,” said Alia. “That must be it.”
“Do—” Jason began, then shouted as the Humvee tilted forward and the front of the vehicle hit the road with a loud metallic clang. “What the—”
“I think she took the front tires off.” The Humvee’s rear sank with a sudden thunk. “And those would be the back tires.”
“Where is she?” he said, turning in his seat.
“She’s coming for you.” Alia looked through the windows and smiled at the havoc she had made. It was only the beginning. “We’re coming for you.”
“Don’t look so pleased, Alia,” Jason said, and she could see only frustration in him, no terror, no worry. If anything, he looked almost eager as he drew a long sword from the Humvee’s main compartment. “This fight is just starting.”
He threw the door open, blade gleaming in his hand.
Diana cast the last of the tires away in time to see Jason crawl from the box that had been the Humvee and launch himself to his feet. He was armed with a sword and paused only to snatch a shield from the inert arm of one of his fallen men.
There was no time to survey the chaos around her, to worry if, back in the lab truck, Theo and Nim would succumb to this battle madness, too.
The soldier closest to Diana had knocked his compatriot to the ground and was slamming his shield against his opponent’s face. Diana seized it on the upswing and cracked it once across the soldier’s head. He dropped forward, cheek to cheek with his comrade.
She faced Jason now. They were ringed by fighting men. The other truck had driven off the road.
Diana tested the weight of the sword in her hand. It was fairly short, but its shape would make it good for both cutting and thrusting. Though the steel was of average quality, the blade seemed sharp enough.
“Your men aren’t coming to your rescue,” she said.
Jason rolled his shoulders. “I don’t need a rescue.”
“You already lost to me once on the way up the mountain.”
“Let’s say I let you believe what you wanted to believe.”
Diana shook her head, realizing he’d feigned his fatigue on that starlit peak. “You lie as easily as you breathe. Always you held back. Well then,” she said, “let’s see what your best looks like against an Amazon.”
They circled each other slowly. But Jason had no reason to wait to assess her strengths. He’d been doing that for days. He lunged.
Their swords met, clashed, the sound of steel against steel ringing off the hillside. Diana felt the force of the blow all the way up her arm. He was strong and knew how to use his weight.
They drew apart, blades sparking. He attacked, and Diana parried, spinning left, keeping her shield up as he made a fresh jab at her ribs. Strong, she noted, but also used to being the strongest player on the field. He slammed his shield into hers, expecting her to fall back. Instead, she shoved, sending him flying.
He crashed into the side of one of the trucks but was on his feet in the blink of an eye. He shook off the pain of the impact and smiled. “The soldiers I am going to build from your blood.”
Not if Theo can help it, she thought as Jason rushed at her, his sword glinting like a flash of lightning in a bank of clouds. He moved in a flurry, swiping and thrusting, driving her backward. She shifted her weight, returning each blow. It was startling, strange. How many hours had she spent preparing for such a moment? And yet this was nothing like the drills or sparring matches in the training rooms of the Armory. Because now her opponent was prepared to deal a killing blow.
“You’re fast,” she noted.
Jason smiled, and the dimple that had charmed her so easily appeared. “You’re not just fighting me,” he said, his breathing even. “You’re fighting the warriors who defeated the Amazons. Achilles, who bested Penthesilea. Telamon, who brought low Melanippe. Hercules, who defeated Hippolyta.”
She hated hearing her sisters’ names, her mother’s name on his lips.
Diana raised a brow. “A wise warrior learns from her mistakes.” She adjusted her stance. “And you’re forgetting who taught me to fight.”
She brought her sword down in a furious arc. Jason raised his shield to block the blow but stumbled. Diana kicked out with her right foot, driving her heel into his solar plexus and knocking the wind from his lungs.
This time he did not rise so quickly. She descended on him with every bit of skill she’d learned, the echo of her sisters’ teachings reverberating through her movements, the lessons they’d learned and passed down to her.
Jason returned the blows, but his movements had slowed. He was still feeling the force of her kick, struggling to catch his breath. She slashed and he pivoted right, avoiding the strike, but she’d never intended to make contact. She checked her attack, changing direction, and brought her blade down in a swipe against his shield arm. He hissed as blood bloomed along his skin. She took the opening and brought the hilt of her sword down swiftly on his shield, knocking it free of his hand. It hit the ground with a dull clang.
Diana changed her grip and swept her blade hard right, batting his sword away.
He scrambled backward, his left arm dripping blood. He looked less frightened than confused, as if he couldn’t quite fathom where his weapons had gone. “No,” he said. “This is all wrong. Achilles, Hercules, they won. In all the stories, they best the Amazons. They are the victors.”
“Those are the stories your poets tell, not mine. Surrender, Jason Keralis.”
Jason growled his frustration, circling left. “Did Menelaus surrender when Paris stole his bride? I know you aren’t willing to deal a killing strike.”
“You can’t win. Only my sisters can match me in fair combat.”
A fevered look came into his eyes. “Then put aside your weapons. Fight me hand to hand. Best me and take your victory.”
Would that end this? Give him the defeat in honest combat he sought? She doubted it. Diana shrugged, tossed her sword and shield far out of reach.
Jason sighed and shook his head. “So honest, so righteous.” His lips curved, the beginnings of a smile, sharp as a knife blade. “So easy to dupe. Only your sisters can match you?” He drew a syringe from his pocket. “Then you will fall to the might of the Amazons.”
She remembered what he’d said on the banks of the Eurotas. I began building a serum from your DNA the first day we met. Her cells, her strength.
“No!” Diana cried.
He jammed the needle into his thigh and depressed the plunger, then tossed the empty syringe aside. Jason straightened, cracked his neck. His grin widened. Diana took a step back.
“The sun sets,” said Jason, flexing his fingers as if testing the feel of his new strength. “An age of heroes begins. And I believe I promised you a beautiful death.”
He advanced and Diana retreated, eyeing him warily. “There’s nowhere to run now. I wonder,” he said, his hands forming fists, “how it will feel to be brough
t low by strength born of your own blood.”
He swung left. Diana dodged the blow. He came up hard right—a hook to her gut with tremendous force. Diana grunted as his fist landed. Jason released a whoof of air and drew back, startled.
He shook it off and lunged at her. She pivoted, intending to wrap her ankle around his and use his own momentum to bring him down. But he was faster now. He halted his motion, seized her shoulders, and twisted, hurling her to the ground.
He grunted as if he were the one who’d been thrown on his back, whirled as if expecting to find someone behind him.
Diana rocked backward and sprang to her feet.
Jason threw himself at her, unleashing a flurry of punches and driving elbows; she bobbed left, right, landed a punch to his gut. He drove the palm of his hand upward in a strike to her chin. Diana’s neck snapped back; the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth.
Jason reeled away, holding his hand to his jaw as if he’d been struck. He touched his fingers to his mouth, but there was no blood there. His eyes were wide and wild. “What is this?”
Diana licked the blood from her lip. Now she was the one to smile. “This is what it means to be an Amazon. My pain is theirs, and theirs is mine. Each wound you deal will be one you suffer yourself.”
“But it’s not just the—” Jason shook his head as if trying to clear it. He took a step toward her, stopped. “What is that sound?”
“Come, Jason, strike me. Grant me the beautiful death you promised. But with each blow, you will feel the agony of every Amazon fallen in battle. In each attack, you will hear the chorus of their screams.”
Jason clapped his hands to his ears. “Make it stop.”
“I can’t.”
He lurched forward, dropped to his knees. “Make it stop!” he screamed. “Don’t you hear it? Don’t you feel it?”
“Of course,” said Diana. “Every Amazon bears the suffering of her sisters, lives with it, and learns to endure it. It’s why we value mercy so highly.” It was what helped them remember that despite their greater strength, their speed, their skill, the promise of glory was nothing in the face of another’s anguish. Diana crouched down and took Jason’s chin in her fingers, forcing him to meet her gaze. “If you cannot bear our pain, you are not fit to carry our strength.”
Wonder Woman: Warbringer Page 34
