Rebirth (Cross Book 1)

by Hildred Billings

  A gunshot.

  Danielle flung herself to the ground in case the gunfire came through the door. But the Shadow took off down the corridor, followed by harried shouts and taunts. The end of the world.

  ***

  If Devon needed any more convincing that he was still out of shape, attempting to keep up with Miranda through corridors did the trick. Within minutes, he was about to fall over and die independently of the world.

  Miranda moved out of the way before he could tumble into her. “Jesus Christ,” she mumbled, reaching into her purse for her Glock. “You’re pathetic. Who would ever guess you actually used to be somebody?”

  “Hey now…” Devon slammed his palms against his knees. “I just stole a fucking relic from a Federation fortified… fortress… place…” Each word was punctured with another breath.

  “Please. I’m in the military.” She made sure her gun was loaded. “And you used to be.”

  “Used to be! In another life! Not the same exact body, you know.” The fuck did Miranda want from him?

  “Stop yelling.”

  Devon found his breath. “Stop yelling? What am I supposed to do, whisper softly?”

  “Jerk off for all I care right now, just do it quietly.”

  “Why?”

  Miranda looked around the corner before slamming herself against the wall again. “Because there’s a Shadow around the corner.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “Yes. Fuck, indeed.” Miranda turned her attention to him. “It’s hovering around Danielle. So unless you want to make it kill her and feast on her soul, then I would suggest you stay quiet and follow my directions.”

  “What are we trying to do? Save Danielle?”

  “It’s not that I doubt Danielle can take care of herself, because I know she can.” Miranda straightened out her clothing. “It’s the fact that I pissed off Dunsman’s biggest asset, and she’ll try to take it out on her.” She finished her preening. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  Devon stared at the gun with a wary eye. “What are you going to do?”

  Miranda turned away again. “Set up a distraction, as always.” She put a foot forward, but Devon grabbed her by the wrist. Miranda let out a breath, her eyes darting between his shadowy face and his bony hand wrapped around her. It was the first time they touched in this life.

  “Wait a second.” Devon pulled her away from the wall. She tripped over her own feet, eyes still planted on him. He gritted his teeth when his tattoo touched her skin and made it burn. “You haven’t explained anything to me. How am I supposed to trust you? You asked me once already to be a traitor, and now you ask me to go running in there with guns blazing. Is this really about the world, or you?”

  Miranda stilled in his grasp. “You have no choice but to trust me. I’m no maita.”

  Devon released her. “I can’t trust you.”

  “I don’t care if you trust me, but you don’t have a choice but to follow my lead. Besides, we don’t have time for me to sit here and explain everything to you. All you need to know is that the world will end in a mere hour now that you’re here, unless we do this last drastic thing. And if nothing else, we should at least get Danielle out so she doesn’t have to die alone.” Her teeth scraped across her lips as spit danced upon Devon’s forehead.

  His hatred nullified. “You really love her, don’t you?”

  Miranda stepped back as that word passed between them. “Love? Is it love to make sure someone doesn’t die alone?”

  “I would think so.”

  “Please,” Miranda broke their eye contact. “Don’t make this any harder.”

  “I love her too, you know. I always have.”

  He wanted affirmation, to know that he and Miranda were on the same side, but all she could do was slam her eyes shut. “Fuck that,” she hissed. “You don’t know anything about her.”

  “I know enough.”

  “I hate you.” Miranda’s boiling pessimism seethed through her lips. “I hate that she knows you for who you are. I hate that she still shares something with you. I hate that…” she took another breath, “I hate that you’ve slept with her.”

  “Twice.”

  She backhanded him across the cheek. Every capillary in her face budded red, prime for Devon’s eyes the moment he glared back at her when he recovered from the recoil. “Most of all,” her voice pulsed through his ear drums, “you don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know that you’re scared.”

  “Why do you keep talking?” Miranda asked. “Shut up and follow my lead.”

  She spiraled down the corridor toward a soul-sucking Shadow. Devon had no choice but to follow her, the gun shaking in his hand as he summoned the courage to take out the manifestation of souls between lives.

  Miranda fired, prompting the Shadow to focus on her. Before it could lunge at her, however, Miranda flung herself against the wall and motioned for Devon to stay behind.

  “Get out of here!”

  The Shadow continued to lunge toward them.

  Miranda fired her gun again at the ceiling. “I don’t think you want to test my aim.”

  It kept coming, smelling another soul still trapped in the Process. A bullet erupted from Miranda’s handgun. She did not miss.

  The Shadow plummeted to the ground with a screech. The bullet did not hit its golden eye socket, but it did nick the corner. Enough to knock it out, maybe even permanently, and that was enough for Devon to know it was fine to now approach.

  “How did you do that?” he asked. “That’s insane!”

  Miranda scoffed, the Shadow dissipating into a flurry of blackened butterflies and one golden loner. “Now go in there and get Danielle. You’ve got the Relic? Bring both down this corridor here to where… well, you’ll see. Good luck!” Miranda sprinted down the corridor, her heels clicking in time to Devon’s racing heart.

  He shoved the door open with his shoulder. It gave way to reveal a dirty chamber filled with boxes and an empty chair.

  “Danielle!” he called. “It’s me!”

  “I’m right here.” She appeared from the shadowy corner behind the door, her face dirty and her forearms caked in dry blood.

  “Are you okay!” Devon knelt next to her and put the gun into one of her open hands. “I got here as soon as I could. Did they do anything to you?”

  She took in the scent of his body, ready to weep at his comforting presence. “I’m fine, but why did you bother coming here? We’re going to die.”

  “Not yet,” he promised. “The Shadow outside is gone now. It was shot to pieces.”

  “I heard gunshots. Who was it? You?”

  “Yeah, real lucky, right? Come on. There’s still one more thing we’re supposed to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  He collected his bearings before dragging her into the corridor. Ahead of them coursed a pair of butterflies.

  ***

  The walls disappeared the farther Miranda traveled down the corridor. At first, she perked her head up and searched for the ending to the darkness encompassing her, but all that remained were the steel blue floor and the bases of the invisible walls. Before her sparkled a hot white light, which she followed as soon as the floor gave way to cold darkness – this must have been what it was like for the world to stop existing.

  Voices awaited her. One male, one female: one Nerilis, one Syrfila. Miranda slowed to a stop so neither would see her as she listened in on their heated conversation.

  “I’m serious!” Syrfila insisted. “Don’t look at me like that! Don’t pity me!”

  Nerilis turned from where he watched the end of the world. “You’re so noisy. Why don’t you quietly enjoy your return to the Void?”

  A butterfly flew past Miranda’s shoulder and landed gently on the empty ground before her, dissipating in an array of sparks before completely disappearing like dying flames. Following that butterfly came two more, each one flying farther than the last, but still bursting in white light bef
ore they could reach Nerilis and Syrfila. Despair pulled at Miranda’s heart. A tear came to the corner of her eye. Yet she could not explain why she was so saddened over the deaths of three innocuous butterflies.

  As she stepped forward, a swarm of them surged from behind, creating a fantastic and fanciful blend of whites, yellows, and golds as they danced in the air and fluttered toward the angry julah. Syrfila backed away, lest any of the crystallized insects touched her. Nerilis’s face was pallor at their presence.

  “It’s you,” he said, daunted. “Come here.” He held out his hand toward Miranda.

  The gun remained in her hand. “I don’t understand.”

  He motioned to her again. “My dear, such lovely butterflies would not flutter where it was not safe for them.”

  Miranda went to him, the plumage of butterflies guiding her toward the light near her father. Above her head, the strongest of the butterflies pushed to reach him and beyond, causing a smile to bloom on his face for the first time since Miranda met him.

  “Yes, that’s it, come here with me.” Nerilis pulled her into an awkward embrace. “Only someone as strong as you could summon such willful spirits.”

  “Excuse me, what is this?” Syrfila once again butted in. “You’re just deciding now to be her father, now that the world is about to end and she’ll die?”

  Nerilis eased his hold on Miranda and watched the dozens of butterflies twinkle in the air, some of them disappearing. “You should appreciate this spectacle, Syrfila. Very few non--julah get to witness something as beautiful as this.”

  “It’s almost as if you want her to die.”

  Miranda said nothing as she remained trapped in the old sorcerer’s arms, her body recognizing and rejecting the scent of clover on his chest. The more Nerilis clung to her, the harder he pressed upon the stitches remaining in her back. She gritted her teeth.

  Her spine shuddered beneath his hands. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Nerilis asked.

  Miranda shook him off her and pulled down her right sleeve to reveal one of the long, gnashing cuts Syrfila had given her. When Nerilis caught sight of this, he took her by the shoulders and ripped the rest of the sleeve. Scores of scars marred Miranda’s back, some ready to heal, others left for life.

  “What is this?” Nerilis pulled more fabric away until Miranda shivered from exposure. She cowered next to them, both of her hands covering her face. “Who did this to you?”

  Syrfila took two steps back. Those steps were loud enough to catch Nerilis’s attention. “Did you do this?” He jabbed at Miranda’s wounds. “Did you do this?”

  “So what if I did?”

  Nerilis shoved Miranda away. “How dare you defile her! Who do you think you are?” His bellows were loud enough to shake Syrfila’s legs. “I paid you to protect her!”

  Miranda looked over her shoulder at these words. “He what?”

  “He paid me to protect you, okay?” Syrfila acted as if this wasn’t shocking at all. “That was one of my jobs! Why do you think I went and plucked you off the street to begin with?”

  “Because… I was his daughter…”

  “I paid you to protect her,” Nerilis spat again, “and you torture her? Do you know who she is?”

  Syrfila snorted, “Yeah, she’s your daughter – by the way, you’re a shitty dad.”

  It was the last things she said, for Nerilis channeled his anger into one blow knocking Syrfila off her feet and sending her plummeting to the ground like a sandbag. Behind that blow was not mere physical strength. Hateful magic plowed into her harder than any of the Federation’s weapons.

  Miranda stared at Syrfila’s limp, unresponsive body. A mixture of fear and remorse swelled inside her, freezing her where she stood. Even after all those years, she still did not quite understand the magnitude of her father’s power.

  “My dear,” Nerilis said, his slim face turning to meet Miranda’s frightened gasp in the towering butterfly light. “I’m so sorry she did that to you. I have failed your request.”

  “I don’t understand…” Frozen tears clogged her throat.

  Nerilis did not embrace her again; instead, he lifted his palm in her direction and softened his eyes so the last thing Miranda saw was his apology. A blast of confiscating sorcery overcame her body and ripped through her chest, stopping her breath and claiming command over her mind.

  Her eyes fogged as her body swayed back and forth while it adjusted to Nerilis’s control. He entered her mind and moved her body as if she were a puppet. A milky purple hue clouded Miranda’s eyes.

  “I can’t control your body,” he said, “for it is not granted to me to control. But as a Priest of the Void, I can take your soul. Please, forgive me.”

  Miranda stepped forward. Her conscience was dead, pushed so far down into her mind that it was nothing but a faraway dream.

  The last thing she saw was Danielle standing among a mass of butterflies, Devon beside her. Miranda slipped into unconsciousness as her body charged at the mercenaries with fist curled and a gun raised.

  FORTY-NINE

  Devon shoved himself on top of Danielle before the first bullet fired. They tumbled onto the blackened ground as Miranda’s shadow stalked them like a proud, prowling lynx.

  “What are you doing?” Danielle snapped. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

  Devon reached for her hand. “He’s controlling her. She won’t stop until she’s killed us.”

  Danielle faced the end of a gun barrel yet again, and as she grasped Devon’s hand in hers, she kicked her leg out and tripped Miranda the moment she came close enough.

  The gun went off, a cluster of butterflies fleeing in Nerilis’s direction. His loss of concentration brought Miranda stumbling over Danielle’s legs. Devon saw this opportunity to lunge forward and snatch the gun from her hand.

  “Take it!” He shoved the Glock toward Danielle.

  But Nerilis was not thwarted by measly butterflies and stumbling bodies. He shooed away the insects and refocused his attention on the two fallen mercenaries. When he regained control of Miranda’s body, Danielle was ready to fire the Glock.

  Nerilis backhanded the male mercenary with a magical force hard enough to bowl him over, but not quite hard enough to knock him out. Devon squirmed, hands up to his head and shaking the confusion out of his mind. Danielle hurried away from Miranda.

  The air was full of dread for the oncoming storm. Not a storm of electrical currents or torrential winds, but a storm of amassing power gathering around one of the most powerful men in the universe. When someone powerful enough to become Head Priest of the Void at a young age concentrated hard enough, he had the ability to bend his corner of the galaxy. The closer a planet came to spiritual destruction, the easier it became to bend the will of matter to his whim.

  With one hand, Miranda’s father bade her to capture her prisoner, and with the other he amplified gravity around Devon’s body, trapping him in a void of futility.

  “Devon!” Danielle stared in wide-eyed shock as his body reacted to gravity. Miranda stumbled like a drunken diva, her face pale and her movements sluggish. Danielle pushed herself into the enveloping darkness as Miranda’s lean legs plowed toward her.

  Once her common sense returned, Danielle waved the gun in the air in the hopes Miranda’s survival instincts would override her possession. When that did not work, Danielle emptied the bullets from the chamber, so she was not tempted to use them.

  Danielle put her hands up. “Miranda,” she said over the grunts of her partner a few yards away, “it’s me, Danielle. I know you’re in there, right? Please, for the love of God, be stronger than that asshole!”

  Nerilis turned his attention to his wayward puppet. Apparently, possessing Miranda required full concentration.

  “You’re lucky if she hears you at all,” he taunted Danielle. “I’m the most powerful julah in the known universe. Even if she were one of my kind, she would never be able to stand up to my will.”

  Daniell
e’s hand reached for the unloaded gun as Miranda advanced, already forgetting that she had emptied the bullets. “Miranda! Stop this!”

  “Go ahead, shoot her!”

  Danielle jumped out of the way when a fist came whizzing for her face. Miranda fell forward and caught her balance before she could crash to the ground. “Stop it!” Danielle begged again. “What has she ever done?”

  She addressed Nerilis, who did not answer Danielle’s inquiry with more than a smile.

  He waved his hand – Miranda’s leg kicked out, the heel of her shoe grazing Danielle’s T-shirt. She let out a yelp of surprise and hopped back another foot, but Miranda was upon her like a charging bull. Flying heels, swinging fists, gnashing teeth… perhaps all of it was possible at once as Danielle took one second too long to panic about what to do and Miranda landed a firm punch on the left side of her chest. Danielle lost her breath and almost crumpled. The only thing keeping her from getting hit again was an encouraging shout from Devon, who told her to look out and dodge the next series of fists coming after her body.

  “Fight back, Danielle! Knock her out!”

  Danielle did not like that idea, but she realized the only way to stop the madness was to incapacitate Miranda’s body.

  The trick this time was knowing it was not Miranda controlling what her body did, so Danielle could not anticipate the usual kicks and jabs she became accustomed to whenever they sparred. But the shape and fluidity of her body was the same. This meant Danielle could always anticipate to what height and how fast and how strong Miranda’s limbs could move. The barrage of movements constantly coming for her was otherworldly – it had to take the will of another force to make Miranda move that much, for no normal human could keep up that pace for so long.

  Nor could a man concentrate for that long.

  When Nerilis’s meditation faltered for one second, Danielle slammed her fist into Miranda’s stomach.

  “You can do this! You’re a fighting machine, remember?” Devon could still not get up as the pressure choked him into submission, but his voice was powerful enough to reach his partner’s ears. “Kick some fucking ass already, Sulim!”