I went still for a moment.
Before his death, Blake Donovan and I had discussed the private prison being built in Alabama, as if the corporation building it already had prisoners lined up to move in.
Or clients.
That big, concrete-lined hole in the ground that Blake and I had speculated about—it was less than a hundred miles away.
I was off the bed and running toward the kitchen, calling names to wake everyone as I went.
* * *
Cassie
"I know why they killed Blake and the other judge, and then came after Rob and me," Cliff said excitedly, thumping a stack of photographs onto the kitchen table.
"What are those?" Gina stifled a yawn.
"Aerial photographs of the private prison being built—before the state even had a chance to approve a private prison."
I turned the top photograph to face me, waiting for my brain to wake so it could absorb what my eyes were seeing.
"When were these taken?" I breathed.
"Eight months ago. They've had plenty of time to make improvements, since then."
Will studied the photograph over my shoulder. I could hear the heavy sigh as his breath fluttered the hair I'd tucked behind an ear.
"Yes," he said, his voice heavy with weariness and conviction. "They are there. Cassie," he gripped my arm and pulled me to my feet.
I am sorry filtered into my brain before his grip on my arm tightened and he flung both of us away.
* * *
Parke
At first, Cliff made no sense; I was mostly asleep when I pulled my ringing cell phone off the hotel nightstand and answered his call.
"What?" I croaked into the phone.
"Will. He took Cassie. I showed him photographs of the private prison they're building. I'm pretty sure he thinks Shakkor Agdah is there. He took Cassie and left the rest of us behind. Rob won't talk to me, but from the way he's acting, this won't end well."
"What the fuck?" I was awake, now. "Get on the road—now," I ordered. "I'll be heading that way as soon as I get dressed."
"It'll take an hour and a half to drive," Cliff growled. "I've ordered a police helicopter."
I blinked—he was right. "I'll call Director Logan and see if we can meet you there."
"Hurry," Cliff ended the call.
* * *
Zedarius
I hated myself. It wasn't the first time, either. The sprites knew—they'd seen it in the past, as they were immortal.
There was one sure way to destroy a pod of Shakkor Agdah.
It required a fire demon and one of my kind.
I'd stopped for a moment a short distance away from the edge of the concrete bunker. Yes, it looked like an empty, concrete-lined box from above.
Below that false bottom was Shakkor Agdah's headquarters. From where I stood, next to Cassie's unconscious form, I could feel the vibration of their combined shields around the perimeter.
They were certainly here.
I felt like the worst of betrayers for leading her to believe in me. For bringing her to this.
For rendering her unconscious.
For sacrificing her.
I wanted to fall to my knees beside her and weep my apology.
No words disturbed the stillness of the early morning; even the sun refused to look at me before I did this evil deed.
The greater good flashed through my mind and I gritted my teeth lest explosive curses pass my lips.
Farewell, lady demon, I told her silently. May your journey be peaceful to your next existence.
Grasping her arm again, I flung both of us into the midst of shouting Shakkor Agdah before doing the necessary thing.
* * *
Parke
My ears were covered by noise-reducing headphones as the chopper Director Logan commandeered rushed us toward the private prison.
We were less than twenty-five miles away when the massive bloom of fire burst in front of us, causing our pilot to veer sharply away from his destination.
"What the hell was that?" Logan shouted into his microphone. I turned in my seat so I could see the huge fireball again; ahead of us, another helicopter was doing the same, flying away from the explosion to avoid the winds, smoke and subsequent percussion from the blast.
"Make a circle and come back around," Logan barked.
The pilot did as he was asked. I'd gone numb. A horrible, creeping fear now gripped my heart.
Will.
Cassie.
Explosion and fire.
Desperate, I sent what I could. Cassie? I begged.
She is gone, Will's voice answered.
* * *
Cliff
Rob looked guilty as hell.
"You knew this," I bore down on him. The Chancellor was inconsolable and refused to come back to the house. All he'd said to me, after his chopper landed a safe distance from the burning concrete hole, was if I saw the wizard again, to kill him.
"We all knew—all the sprites," Rob whispered as he hung his head. "To destroy Shakkor Agdah in large numbers, it requires a wizard—and a, uh, fire demon."
"Get out," I shouted at him. "Get. Out. Of. My. Sight."
Rob fled toward the backdoor. Moments later, I heard it slam behind him. He'd get back to his lying filth of a King in minutes, through a rift in the backyard. I threw back my head and howled my grief to the world.
* * *
Parke
The fire burned for two days. As it was contained within the concrete bunker, Director Logan prevented anyone from attempting to put it out.
When it died, the last bit of Cassie died with it. Only a blackened hole remained of Shakkor Agdah's headquarters. Everything was reduced to a fine ash that blew away with Alabama's winter breeze.
Several of us had come on a gray, bleak day in March to lay flowers. I'd had messages from all the sprite royalty. I'd ripped up every condolence note they sent.
They'd known all along. Cliff told me what Rob said. They'd led Cassie to slaughter, just as the wizard did.
The fucking, damned, betraying wizard.
To send me a mental message like that, right after he'd caused her death.
"We're here to say good-bye to Cassie," Gina placed a hand on my Prelim's arm. I'd begun to turn, I was so angry.
"Yeah." At least she'd stopped me before I destroyed my clothing.
"Come," she pulled me toward the bunker's edge.
Chapter 18
Cassie
My eyes adjusted to the near-darkness after what felt like forever. My mind was empty of thought until I realized it was empty.
Frantically, I scrabbled for memories—they were there, merely out of reach. I struggled to sit up from my prone position; beneath my back, it felt hard and uninviting.
I saw the bones, then.
A skeleton lay on a shelf across from the one I occupied. Beneath that shelf lay a pile of other bones.
A hand clapped over my mouth before I could shriek. For a moment, I struggled weakly against the arms that wrapped about me like bands of steel.
"Hush." The voice was gentle, at war with the strength employed to hold me down. "You're inside a crypt in New Orleans. It was the best place I could find to allow you to recover."
"Recover?" I hissed, turning my head to meet his eyes. "You fucking killed me," I hissed louder. "Get the fuck away from me. Never touch me again."
I could see his expression as he lifted his hands in surrender and stepped backward.
He'd hoped I wouldn't remember that part.
I did.
Now.
He'd meant to kill me all along. No wonder I'd felt ambivalent about him.
"The sprites knew," he said.
"So you're trying to shift the blame?" I sat up as best I could in the cramped, musty crypt.
"No, that's all my fault," he nodded, lowering his eyes.
"How the fuck am I here now?" I demanded. I'd died. I was sure of it.
"When your fire burned in
that place for two days, I began to hope. With a spell from the controlling wizard, fire demons in the past just exploded into a fireball, destroyed whatever Shakkor Agdah were in the area, then dissipated immediately. You didn't dissipate. I'm still trying to work that out."
"Not a good enough explanation," I snapped. "You used me as your own personal incendiary device. You're a betraying asshole."
"I know." He considered my words for a moment before speaking again. "The task was quite difficult, but I was able to gather your sparks together—from the fire. I put you back together."
He sounded proud of himself.
"I'm going home," I slid off the shelf. My bare feet crunched on brittle human bones; he'd shoved a skeleton off the shelf I'd lain on before carelessly dropping me onto it.
"I will take you home," he offered.
"Fuck you," I snarled and headed for the crypt's door.
* * *
Epilogue
Zedarius
Three days ago, I watched the lady demon walk out of the crypt in New Orleans. I should have insisted on taking her to a safe place; I let her go, instead.
It makes me ashamed, and I have not felt that emotion for years uncounted.
I sigh and consider the conundrum of the bigger picture, as humans in this day and age are fond of saying. I'd done what I thought necessary. It appears I have merely made enemies of allies, which will only aid Shakkor Agdah in the coming days.
No, I am not foolish enough to think we exterminated all of them. My hope is that we were able to cut off its head, at least, and part of the body.
Those remaining will be forced to regroup. I have much to do in that time, including the attempt to convince several to heal the rift between us and prepare for the next battle. They do not know the truth of things, as I do.
This Earth lies in a cluster of six, each not knowing the other exists—except for the very powerful among us. Many things are similar on each—countries, cities, laws and other human factors.
Earth One is weakest, with only humans and the faintest of paranormal stirrings upon it. Each subsequent Earth grows stronger in power and paranormal activity. Earth Six held the highest levels; it was destroyed when the powerful fought for supremacy.
Earth Five was next; those who survived the last battles on Six invaded Five when their world became uninhabitable. Those invaders quickly forgot why they'd traveled from Six to Five.
Five was destroyed, much as Six had been.
Earth Four, where I am, must be the last battleground. Should it be destroyed, the bridge between it and Earth Three must also be destroyed—to protect the weak living upon the last three Earths.
It is my duty to see to it, if it becomes necessary. I was taught this by my elder, who also taught me what he knew of the hidden histories.
Others of my kind are obligated to align with me should the destruction of the bridge be required.
I hope that time will never come.
The End
Your Money's Worth: Seattle Elementals, Book 1 Page 25
