by Bec McMaster
"Clear," she said, as she ducked back out into the corridor.
The Nighthawks were working in pairs.
Malloryn moved with lethal efficiency, but Obsidian was the maestro. Smoke roiled through the cells, brightened only by gunfire. Gemma took another dhampir down, and as she emerged, she realized nobody was shooting anymore.
All in all, it probably took them a minute to neutralize the cells, and the final head count was eleven dhampir acolytes down and out for good.
Then they were at the end of the hallway, breathing hard.
The last cell door was reinforced heavily, with several iron bars slotted into place.
Obsidian held his finger up to his lips. "X," he mouthed.
An enormous bang suddenly vibrated the door, and Gemma reloaded her pistol, her heart hammering.
"He can't break out, can he?" Malloryn asked quietly.
"These cells can hold a vampire."
Obsidian gestured her past in a hurry, and as they scurried to the main door she could hear that furious pounding behind them. A shiver ran down her spine. Best to get as far away from here as possible.
"Training cells neutralized," Obsidian muttered into the aural communicator he wore. He glanced at the pocket watch in his pocket, and then headed for the door at the end of the hallway.
The floor suddenly shook, dust shaking off nearby shelves. Something shattered in the distance.
Munitions factory. That sounded like Herbert and the others. Right on time.
"We've lost the element of surprise!" Gemma called, as Obsidian started running.
"Time to move fast," Malloryn commanded. "We need to track down Ghost before one of the others finds him first."
The first concussive boom echoed through the Core.
Ghost looked up from the maps he was perusing, listening intently. Gunfire echoed in distant corridors.
"They're here," Dido said, resting her hip against his desk. "They've taken the bait."
He reached for his coat and slipped it on, sliding several pistols into the holster he wore around his chest. "You know what you have to do."
Dido smiled, patting his lapels into place. "Go and be a good little distraction."
Ghost pressed a furious kiss against her lips. "They'll never see you coming, my love. Kill as many of them as you can."
"And the duke?"
"Have fun with Malloryn. Give my regards to Balfour when you see him."
"Don't get yourself killed."
A sneer curled his lip. "By this pathetic bunch? We are gods, Dido. Perfection. No mere blue blood is going to bring me down."
"I'm not worried about the blue bloods," she said.
Obsidian.
He straightened his collar, as another explosion rocked the building. "It's time I buried that rabid dog. Forever."
"Balfour won’t like it. We were meant to keep him alive at all costs."
"Unfortunately, Obsidian gave me no choice," he replied, with a tight smile. "If Balfour ever asks, my finger slipped on the trigger."
Chapter 31
"Well, well, well. What have we here?" Kincaid asked, kicking open the door to the medical bay.
Charlie slipped into the room after him, the arm cannon on his Cyclops’ arm tracking through the room. Stainless steel benches were covered with an array of instruments. There was a chair in the corner with leather straps hanging from it, and some bizarre sort of helmet that looked like it would lock into place over a man’s face….
Did it…? Did it have a needle attached to it? One as thick as the blade on an old-fashioned dirk?
Charlie felt sick. The arm cannon locked on the frantic man shoving files into a battered old travelling case.
"Here. You. Don’t move," Charlie snapped.
The man held both hands in the air, his lip quivering. "Don’t shoot me! I don’t have any weapons. I’m just the doctor."
"Dr. Richter, by any chance?" he asked.
The man glanced between them. "Aye."
Hell. This was the bastard who’d put that device in Obsidian’s head. Charlie glanced at the array of paper files strewn on every available bench. "What are you doing?"
Kincaid picked one of the files up, paper spewing from its interior.
"Don’t touch that!" The doctor snapped, grabbing for it.
Kincaid drew his pistol and put it directly to the doctor’s temples, not taking his eyes off the file. "You ain’t in a position to be making demands." He looked up at Charlie. "Look at this."
Pistons hissed in the mechanical legs of the Cyclops he wore as he took several steps closer. Charlie pressed a button and the helmet slid back, so he could see better. "Dido. Zero. Silas…." He paused on the next file. It was thicker than all the others. "Obsidian."
Flipping it open, he glanced at the top page. It looked like a family tree had been torn out of a prayer book of some description, a gilded crest embossed at the top. Charlie turned the paper, reading the last names that had been filled in. Dmitri Grigoriev. Nikolai Grigoriev. Yekaterina Grigoriev. Irina Grigoriev. Evgeni Grigoriev.
His gaze zeroed back in on the first name on the list. Dmitri.
"Don’t have time for this, Charlie," Kincaid warned. "Malloryn wants you to take out the power generator to the entire system. We’ve got to get moving."
Charlie yanked the doctor’s satchel off him, and upended it. He carefully placed the file inside. "I think this is important. Obsidian needs to know what they took from him." He met the doctor’s eyes. This wasn’t just a family tree. It was a nobleman’s bloodlines by the look of it. A Russian nobleman. "He has brothers and sisters he doesn’t even know exist."
"If you open that door, you will regret it," the doctor warned. "And they’re dead. They’re all dead."
"Aye," Kincaid snorted. "And I’d trust a word that comes out of your—"
A sudden scream tore through the stillness of the room.
Bullets started firing.
They’d left several Nighthawks out there in the hallway.
"What was that?" Charlie whispered.
Another Nighthawk screamed, and the dreadful sound of bones breaking echoed as someone was thrown against the steel door. An animalistic bellow sent a chill down his spine.
Dr. Richter sucked in a sharp breath. "We have to get out of here!"
"Why?" Kincaid had his pistol pointed at the door.
"Because X is loose."
Charlie felt the heat drain from his face, as he locked his arm cannon on the door. "Isn’t that the crazy dhampir we’re supposed to stay far, far away from?"
"Fuckin’ Jaysus," Kincaid said, shoving the enormous metal chair with its helmet apparatus toward the door to block it. "What are we going to do? We’re trapped like rats."
Charlie turned and locked his arm cannon on the far wall. "Block the door. Then stay back."
"There he is!" Malloryn pointed.
A pale figure stepped out into the middle of the munitions factory, accompanied by two of the acolytes.
Thirty feet separated them, but everything in Obsidian went cold. He took a step forward, and saw Ghost still. The world vanished around the pair of them. All he could see was his brother. His master. His nemesis.
You stole my memories.
You sent me to kill her.
You hurt her.
"He's mine," Obsidian said softly, starting toward Ghost.
"I don't think so," Gemma countered, stalking forward at his side. A wicked pair of sai gleamed in her hands, and her breeches were made of tight leather that might have distracted him in better circumstances. "This bastard tore us apart. He put that bloody implant in my head."
"Take the left," he told her. "Then you can assist me if you like."
"I've got the right," Malloryn said grimly.
"You treacherous bastard," Ghost spat. "You. You did this."
Obsidian stalked toward him, the knife up his sleeve falling into his hand like an old lover. They'd made him an assassin. Made him the Wraith. Now th
ey could deal with the consequences.
"No," he said, in a chilling voice. "You did this when you stole her from me."
Another explosion rocked the building. Herbert, judging from the sound of it. Malloryn assured him the butler could bury this place in rubble without killing them all in the process.
"So be it. I'll kill you all," Ghost said, drawing both of his knives.
They'd sparred in the past.
He knew every single one of his brother's moves.
But they'd never truly gone head-to-head before.
Flames reflected back off Ghost's dark pupils as he lunged forward, knives flashing in the light. Obsidian ducked and wove, moving faster than lightning.
Ducking under the next blow, Obsidian slammed a fist toward him, his fingers curled around the hilt of his knife. Ghost deflected it, and the pair of them exchanged a ringing pair of blows, hammering at each other with fury. As he spun, the razor-sharp edge of the knife kissed Ghost's cheekbone, raising a thin line of dark blood.
Behind them, Gemma spun low, sweeping Ghost's feet out from under him before turning to drive the sharp prongs of her sai right through the dhampir's throat.
Missed.
Ghost hit the floor, then rolled up onto the middle of his back and flipped to his feet. Obsidian drove his clenched fist forward to meet him. Solar plexus. Throat. He spun, kicking up in a blow meant to take Ghost's head off his shoulders. Or give him one hell of a headache in the meantime.
Ghost grabbed his shin, setting his hands in an ankle lock meant to break the joint, but as he dropped his shoulder to follow through, Obsidian threw himself into a spin, his other foot collecting Ghost's face.
The pair of them went down.
He hit the floor, fingers spread. Then he was up and moving with lethal intent, knives winking in the light. Gemma danced behind Ghost, waiting for a chance to strike, which kept Ghost's attention split.
She lunged forward, her sai painting a line of blood across the back of Ghost's hamstring, but Ghost grabbed a fistful of her chignon and hauled her forward, throwing her into Obsidian.
He barely had time to wrap his arms around her and stagger back before Ghost came at them. Shoving her out of the way, Obsidian drove his left knife up, barely countering Ghost's strike.
Then it was his turn to attack.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Ghost snarled, deflecting every blow with the steel gauntlets along his forearms.
"You talk too much." Obsidian planted the bottom of his boot into Ghost's chest, and Ghost hit the floor again. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead as he crouched, his chest heaving. It was almost black in the firelight.
"One on one," Ghost spat. "You know you can't take me."
"I would, but you try convincing Gemma to step aside." He shrugged. "I think she deserves her pound of flesh."
Taking a small device from his pocket, Ghost sneered up at Obsidian. "Let's see how she enjoys this."
Ghost pressed the button.
Obsidian tensed, despite the fact Ava had operated on him last night, removing the second implant in his head.
Nothing happened.
Fire dripped from the ceiling, reflecting back from Ghost's pale eyes. His sneer vanished. He hit the button again. A third time.
His expression fell.
It was glorious.
"Expecting something to happen?" Obsidian let the weight of the knife soften in his palm.
"You deactivated it."
He took a menacing step forward. "One of Malloryn's agents removed it." His voice fell into a soft croon. "Now it's just you and me. No more mind games. No more tricks. Come on. You think you can handle me."
Ghost straightened to his full height.
"Careful," Gemma warned, holding her pistol on Ghost. "I daresay that's not the last of his tricks."
"You're right," Ghost purred, pressing his fingertips to the aural communicator in his ear. "Dido. Did you get a chance to unleash the beast?"
Dido? What the hell was she doing here? She was supposed to be in Russia.
And the beast?
His heart started ticking. They had to be speaking of X.
"Shoot him," he told Gemma urgently. The time for revenge was over.
Gemma pulled the trigger, just as Ghost threw himself aside. He scrambled across the stone floors as Gemma's gun retorted.
Bang, bang, bang. It was like the Tower all over again, but this time Ghost was the target.
A pair of bullet holes bloomed in Ghost's back as he fled, but the second she ran out of ammunition, he hissed at them and bolted for the stairs leading up to the factory roof.
"Reload!" Obsidian yelled, as he sprinted after him. "Then get the hell out of here. He's released X."
"Not without you!"
Stubborn bloody woman. "Can you not argue with me just this once?"
"I lost you last time. I'm not doing it again. This is forever, Obsidian. No matter how long or short that forever is."
Ghost hammered up the stairs, the long tail of his coat slapping around his legs.
Obsidian hauled himself after him, the muscles in his thighs aching and his heels ringing on the steel steps. He could hear Gemma on his heels, but all his attention was focused on the dhampir in front of him.
You are not going to escape me.
Below them, explosions rocketed the factory, Herbert making judicious use of his shoulder cannon. Heat seared the air, making it hard to breathe. They had to move fast.
Ghost reached the mesh walkway that bisected the factory, and yanked himself around the handrail onto the bridge, half-vanishing into the smoke.
Obsidian followed. He was halfway across the bridge when something blurred out of the shadows above them. An enormous cylinder dropped out of the rafters, and Ghost skidded to a halt ahead of him as it slammed through the other end of the bridge, taking half the walkway with it.
The mesh shuddered. Obsidian's feet nearly went out from under him, and he clung to the rail as the bridge shook and shivered.
Then they were standing there, staring at each other through a falling rain of dripping fire.
This man had stolen his memories.
His will.
His mind.
He'd fucking laughed in Obsidian's face when he sent Gemma to murder the queen.
But now it ended.
"No escape," Obsidian said, twirling his knives in his hands, the well-worn leather of the hilts settling against the calluses there like old friends.
Ghost turned to face him. He stripped his coat off and flung it into the abyss below before drawing his own steel again. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I've never been more certain of anything in my life."
"You traitor."
"That seems somewhat hypocritical, coming from your mouth."
Ghost's lip curled. "That cursed bitch ruined you—"
"Gemma only opened my eyes to the truth. I mean nothing to you. This brotherhood you preach to us is nothing more than a mockery. You care little for any of us. We are tools to you, nothing more. She set me free."
"As lovely as this little get-together has been," Gemma called behind him, "it's getting a little hot under the collar in here."
Obsidian advanced, and Ghost glanced behind him at the gap in the bridge as if gauging his chances of making it. Smoke billowed around them, stinging his eyes. Ghost smiled at Obsidian and edged closer to give himself room to get a run-up.
Oh no, you don't.
A bullet whizzed past him as Gemma shot at Ghost. The other dhampir snarled and threw his hands over his head.
"I'll cut him off," Gemma said, holstering her pistol and swinging under the mesh, so she was hanging above the inferno. He could barely see her through the smoke. "You keep his attention."
"Gemma." One slip, and she'd plunge into the flames below. "We're running out of time."
The entire factory was afire now.
X on the loose.
A thousand to
ns of water pressing down atop the burning building.
"Well, bloody hurry up and kill him, then we can get the hell out of here," she snapped, crawling along the mesh underneath.
"Apologies," he drawled. "Did you think I wasn't trying?"
Obsidian saw Ghost's gaze flicker down to where Gemma swung like a monkey beneath them.
Like hell.
His threw one of his knives at Ghost, and lunged forward.
They met in a clash of steel, knives whistling through the hot air as both ducked and wove. Grabbing Ghost's wrist, he slammed it upon the rail until Ghost was forced to release one of his blades. In retaliation, an elbow hammered into his teeth, and he staggered back.
Gemma swung beneath them on a small grappling line, and Ghost glanced down. Obsidian slammed Ghost against the rails before he could harm her.
It brought him dangerously within reach and he twisted out of the way like a cat as Ghost knifed him. The kiss of pain was an old friend as blood splashed from his side. Somehow he retaliated, and a thin line of blackened blood sprang up on Ghost's pale cheek as they broke apart.
"You've never beaten me," Ghost snarled.
"I've never really tried."
Over Ghost's shoulder, he saw Gemma haul herself up onto the bridge again like a lithe shadow, her catlike blue eyes locking on Ghost with all the intensity of someone staring between a pair of sights.
She drew her pistol and both of them heard the faint click of the hammer drawing back. No doubt it was aimed directly between Ghost's shoulder blades. Gemma didn't miss.
"It's over," he said.
Ghost raked the burning factory with a hard stare, frustration burning like a hot coal in his eyes. "We could have burned this city to the ground."
"For Balfour?"
"For us!" Ghost snapped. "These puling humans don't deserve to rule. They're cattle. Food. And the blue bloods are merely a stepping-stone in our evolutionary path. We could have ushered in a new age and ruled over all. We are gods. Balfour sees that."
"You keep saying we. But what you mean is you."
"Drop the knife," Gemma told him. "Or I'll shoot you in the back."
