Lenina jumped, one hand raised in warding. ‘Me? I didn’t do anything.’
‘You did! With your human heart and human loves. This is your doing. You’ve ruined the greatest warrior who ever lived. All this talk of nurturing, protection and mercy—these are your words. I’ll kill you.’ She leapt, arcing through the air with her hands outstretched, face contorted in a snarling rictus.
Lenina threw her arms up before her face, bracing to take the weight of the charge. It never came.
Ray snatched Kallisto out of the air by the back of the neck. As she squealed in alarm, he heaved her back and slammed her body face first into the grass. ‘You dare?’ His voice shook with rage. Fury bled blackness into his eyes once more. ‘After everything I just said you’d lift a hand against my daughter?’
‘I’m your—’
‘You are not my daughter.’ The words boomed through the still air, riding the back of a palpable wave of rage. It lapped against Lenina’s bare skin like scalding water. ‘Never call yourself that again.’
Kallisto flinched. ‘But . . . you Kissed me . . .’
‘I made a mistake,’ Ray’s voice cracked, but he kept going, forcing the words through trembling lips. ‘One of many, I don’t deny it, but you, Kiya, Mosi . . . you’re my greatest mistakes. I damned you when I should have protected you. And now you’re a monster in need of a firm hand.’ He forced her face deeper into the grass.
Kallisto scrabbled against the earth. Her nails raked up great clods of grass and dirt.
‘Daddy?’ Lenina bit her lip, horrified by the wretched sight. It looked like her father, talked like him, but in that moment he was Saar again, the ancient god-touched warlord with unspeakable power at his fingertips. ‘Daddy, let her go.’
He held on for a moment longer before looking to Lenina. He inhaled, sharp and deep then jerked his hands away. When Kallisto lifted her dirt-smeared face, he glared into her wide, frightened eyes. ‘I have one daughter and her name is Lenina Charlotte Miller. Come near her or any others of my family again and I will end you.’ He rubbed his hands over his face. By the time he was done, the black eyes and fangs were gone again.
Saar receded, Raymond Miller returned. ‘Chuck, get your brother. We’re leaving.’
Lenina stepped over Kallisto without looking at her. No matter what the ancient god-touched had put her through, the look of bewildered horror in her eyes touched a little close to home. She hurried back to Jordan and Shawn, both slumped over the third altar. She hesitated.
‘I can walk.’ Shawn levered himself to his feet, held his injured arm carefully against his chest and took a step. It was slow and shaky, but he did it. ‘I’ll help carry your brother.’
She shook her head and grabbed Jordan’s arm, heaving him over her shoulder in a fireman’s hold. ‘Concentrate on walking. I’ve got him.’
Lenina grabbed his hand and hauled him after her, pushing as close to her father as she could without stepping on his toes. ‘What now?’
‘We leave,’ said Ray. With a hand on his wife’s elbow he turned to walk away.
‘Leave?’ Kallisto pushed slowly from her knees as though every movement ached. ‘You think you can walk away after what you’ve done? After you’ve betrayed us all? Betrayed me?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
‘I gave everything for you! I brought moon puppies into my home and this is how you repay my love?’ She jabbed an accusatory finger at his face. ‘I was wrong to believe we needed you. For trusting in the memory of your greatness. Time has blunted you. You’re a broken sword and damaged weapons must be remade or discarded.’ She addressed the crowd of god-touched. ‘Kill him.’
When nobody moved, she drew back her hand, surprise shining in her big dark eyes. ‘Did you hear me? Kill him!’
Lenina looked to her father.
He sighed. ‘Broken swords still have an edge, Kallisto. I think you’ve forgotten that you’re unlikely to survive my death.’
‘I’d rather die than live the half-life you describe.’
‘I don’t think your people feel the same way.’
Kallisto stamped her foot. Her face screwed up and, for an instant, she became the six year old girl she resembled so closely. ‘I called you here, I am the first Majestic. You follow my command—kill him. Kill him now!’
Nobody moved.
Ray cocked his head, considering. Grace tugged on his arm, but he pushed her hands away, stepping back across the grass until he stood toe to toe with Kallisto once more. She paused, panting, raging, gnawing on her lips until blood trickled down the sides of her chin. When he stopped, she glared up at him, mouth twisted down in a furious snarl.
The height difference should have made their stand-off comical, but what Kallisto lacked in height she made up in visible rage. ‘You disgust me,’ she whispered.
‘A feeling I know well. Let me help you.’
‘I need no assistance from you.’
‘Then consider this a favour.’ Ray stepped back and faced the crowd, raising his hands skyward for emphasis. It was an addition he didn’t need as his voice took on that deep, rolling quality, rumbling low in Lenina’s heart. She knew every other god-touched felt it too.
‘My name is Saar, receiver of Set’s blessing, taker of the blood. From my blood all power comes. Reach out to me through links long dormant and know the truth.’
Something soft brushed Lenina’s arm. She slapped at it, but her fingers touched nothing but bare skin beneath her dirty white dress. Yet the sensation continued. It licked across her shoulders and chest, caressing her face with a feather-light touch. Only when she looked at her father did she realise that it came from him.
When he spoke again the feeling went away. ‘I’ve returned after two hundred years of thought and reflection, planning and meditation. The world has changed. I’ve changed. You haven’t. Many of you looked for me hoping my return would make things as they were. But I won’t. I refuse.’
Kallisto sniffed, shrinking in on herself.
Another stab of pity hit Lenina in the gut, but she didn’t dare reach out. Instead, she inspected the memories that gave her a sense of what the other god-touched might be feeling, examining the relationship between Kallisto and her father and realising, for the first time, that they could, in another world, have been sisters.
Ray took a deep breath. ‘Kallisto is my first. After Mosi and Kiya came Kallisto, daughter of Rashida and she is earth’s oldest living creature besides myself. She could lead you, for she is smart, driven and powerful in her own right.’
Lenina bit back a cough of surprise. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kallisto sit straight, red-tinged tears glistening on her chubby cheeks.
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some began to inch forward.
‘But I am Saar!’ Ray shouted those last four words and with them let loose a rush of power that paled the last into nothingness.
It wasn’t a prickle this time, but a burn. It licked Lenina’s skin like invisible tongues of white-hot fire and several god-touched shrieked and fell to the floor. Those still standing were clearly younger and not so closely connected to Saar and the effects of his blood.
A shrill shriek rang out in the distance and down the sire-bond Lenina experienced a rush of rage and fear.
She knew then that this display was for every god-touched, not just those on the grass. All over the world, in hundreds of different countries, men and woman touched by Set would feel the same agonising burn and know Saar was alive.
Yameen, Hahn and Bomani dropped at once, covering their eyes and shrieking. Even Kallisto fell and covered her eyes, legs twitching like an injured insect.
‘I am Saar. And you follow me. Not Kallisto.’
The feeling passed. Lenina breathed again.
‘This is a new world,’ he continued in a softer voice. ‘A new time. Unlike the old days when I ruled, you can choose. In two minutes I’ll leave with my family. Try to stop me if you wish, but my pa
tience is gone. Know that despite my aversion to killing, I’m still perfectly capable.’ He paused long enough to let the threat sink in. ‘Those of you who insist on following me, may do so, but you do it by my rules. No exceptions. The rest of you . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Maintain the old way if you must. Be left behind by the new world. Follow Kallisto.’ He scanned the crowd, once more taking the time to look at each god-touched in turn. ‘The choice is yours, but you must make it now.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Fists clenched, Lenina did her best to look as imposing and angry as her father. It seemed to work on Shawn who widened his eyes and shuffled away, but none of the other god-touched seemed concerned.
If they decide to attack . . .
She wet her lips.
We’ll never get out of here. Two of us . . . a hundred of them.
That she counted herself able to fight surprised her more than the understanding that a fight would be necessary. As though learning the truth about her family, her bloodline and her own powers had given her fresh confidence.
I still don’t want to.
Several lifetimes passed in the ten seconds of silence. Then Kallisto grinned and clapped her slender hands. ‘You see, Saar? We are not so easily cowed. Your threats are empty. Those gathered here and all of Red Fang will follow me.’
He shrugged. ‘I gave you the choice. My words stand. Let’s go, Chuck.’
Lenina gulped. We can’t. You’re still not paying attention.
As if to prove the thought, Kallisto addressed the crowd. ‘See how weak and human he is? We would do well to see him destroyed before his cancerous ideas poison us from the inside out. We survived well enough without his assistance, we will do so again. Destroy him. Destroy all of them.’
Finally realising the danger, Ray yanked the ancient dagger from his waistband.
The crowd of god-touched began to move. Not all, but enough to make Lenina’s stomach tighten and her heart flutter.
Time slowed to that familiar, treacle-thick crawl.
Kallisto moved back, presumably to clear the way but she had barely shifted her feet before Ray vanished. He moved so fast that not even a streak caught Lenina’s eye. One moment he stood at her side, the next he stood on the stage, laying Grace on the smooth platform. The blade of the dagger he held between his teeth.
Kallisto’s followers converged where he had been a moment ago, a clawing mess of hands, daggers, fangs and splashing blood. By the time the world recovered its usual speed, three Seekers twitched on the ground, bleeding from stab wounds to the stomach and ribs.
‘Chuck, behind!’ Ray pointed while fending off a sudden rush from the members of Kallisto’s household.
A dark shape arrived at Lenina’s left shoulder. She ducked. Whistling air and a slashing dagger cut the space where her face had been and the man overreached. Surging upright, she snatched the diving stranger by the waist and shoulder and heaved him over her head into the side of an altar.
Shawn shot her a panicked look. ‘What now?’
‘Run!’
He obeyed and she bent to scoop Jordan back over her shoulder.
A gust of cool air against her cheek sent her skipping sideways. A dagger flashed through the air, this one bronze and tarnished rather than steel and shiny. She paused long enough to watch the Fang slice through the air, cutting across the thigh of a Seeker approaching from behind. It curved without slowing, drawing blood on the other thigh before dancing on to slash at the eyes of a Watcher scrambling after Shawn.
As if they understood Ray was too uncertain a target, many of the Elders aimed for Lenina. She yelped as one fell beside her, shrieking when a second dragged Jordan from her shoulders. She fell with him, rolling across the grass into the side of an altar wet with her mother’s blood.
‘Jordan!’
Gone. Lost in a sea of snarling god-touched monsters.
She shoved aside chains to scramble on to the altar, kicking at expressionless faces as they charged too close.
Not Jordan. Please, not him too.
The tide shifted, like a school of fish, many of the god-touched swirling around her altar and scrambling up the sides faster than she could kick them down.
Chains.
She grabbed a length of shiny, silver metal, curling one end around her fist and swinging the other around her body. The thick links became a blur of constant motion, wrapping around ankles, smashing against faces, crashing into wrists.
No time to think of why, or how.
Just keep moving. Keep swinging. Hitting. Ducking. Kicking. Dodging. Punching.
A woman, bleeding from a gash on her forehead, grabbed her by the calf.
Lenina screamed as she fell, twisting through the air to take the impact on her arm and shoulder. Her teeth ground together and sliced through her tongue. Blood filled her mouth.
Something black and furry crashed into them both and knocked the rabid god-touched several feet across the grass. She scrambled back towards them, hissing and spitting. The furry thing gave a ferocious growl, dived and caught the woman by the throat. Blood spurted as it shook her from side to side.
Lenina shoved back on hands and knees. The urge to cry bubbled within her, but fear clogged her voice.
Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.
The creature stopped. Looked down at her. A great pink tongue lolled from a long mouth filled with slightly yellowed teeth. It made a sound somewhere between a growl and a laugh and licked her cheek. Round amber eyes stared deep into her own.
She gaped. ‘Darryl?’
Another lick, another growl—definitely a laugh—and then the beast was gone, darting around the altar to grab an approaching Seeker by the back of the knee. A long quivering howl split the night air and, seconds later, dozens more joined in haunting chorus.
The song of battle changed rapidly to includes shrieks and cries. The scent of blood washed through the air, cut through by the unmistakable musk of canine fur. Furry shapes of black, brown, white and grey danced among the unprepared god-touched, biting, growling, snarling.
When Lenina found Jordan, he lay draped across the back of a wolf whose shoulder stood as high as her ribs. The huge creature gave her a steady look, then jerked its head towards the stage. She pushed through the thinning crowd, leading the way.
The stage, miraculously, remained clear. Ray stood in the middle of it, gazing into the crowd while a loop of six chains circled the edge of the platform so fast as to be a shiny blur. When he saw her coming, the chains clanked to a halt while he reached through the gap and hauled her up. The wolf followed, dumped Jordan on the stage, then darted off again.
‘You okay?’ Ray grabbed her shoulders, turning her this way and that to search for injuries.
She closed her eyes. ‘This is crazy. We can’t fight all these people.’
‘We aren’t fighting anyone. Just grab Jordan and run.’
Lenina nodded.
This she knew. This she could handle: her father rolling in to take charge, just like he did the night before at the police station. The familiar sharpness of his tone gave her comfort.
‘Won’t they follow?’
‘If the wolves are fighting Kallisto, we can count on them to protect our backs. For now.’
‘Okay. Where’s Shawn?’
‘Who?’
Ice cold flooded Lenina’s limbs. She turned slowly, dreading what she would find.
Out on the grass, beyond the trio of altars, a small oasis of calm formed at the centre of the fight. In it, Zoë stood guard over Kallisto who held Shawn on his knees before her, one hand clamped on the back of his neck. Her teeth dripped red.
As if sensing her thoughts, Ray gripped her arm. ‘Don’t.’
Lenina shook her head. ‘I can’t just leave him there.’
‘It’s not a worthwhile risk.’
‘Is that Saar talking?’
Ray flinched. ‘Chuck, please. We can get away. What about your mother? Jordan?’
A cry drew her attention back to Shawn. Zoë held his injured arm, her fangs slicing through the flesh of his wrist. She smiled as she drank.
‘I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my lifetime, but always for trying to do what was right. Do you have any idea how many lives I’ve had to sacrifice to get where I am today? To keep you safe?’ Ray touched her cheek. ‘Don’t let that be a waste.’
She wrenched away from him. ‘The dad I know would never let an innocent person die.’
‘The dad you know never had to make those choices.’
A crushing sense of loss stole her breath. ‘Coward. That’s why you really hid, isn’t it? You couldn’t face what you’d done and the decisions you’d made.’
‘Chuck—’
‘No, Daddy. Look what your hiding has done.’ She willed her fangs forward and blinked as her vision heightened.
His eyes became glassy. ‘I was trying to protect you—and your brother. That’s all I’ve ever done.’
It was still her father, she knew that. But the more Lenina spoke, the more she thought, the longer she dwelt on his actions, the more of it came back. More and more of Saar’s thoughts, his decisions, his choices. It didn’t matter that some Dutch woman two hundred years ago had turned him on to the right path, he still wasn’t quite there. Not yet.
‘I’m not leaving him.’
Ray didn’t move.
She sighed.
Her heart crashed against her ribs, fear colliding the desire to run. Her ration mind created compelling argument towards doing exactly as her father suggested, but, as she looked at Shawn, Lenina knew it wasn’t possible.
Her knees quaked as she moved closer to the edge of the stage.
‘Chuck, don’t.’
She glanced over her shoulder. Her throat seized up. ‘You said you wanted to protect me . . . so do it.’
Walking The Razor's Edge Page 22
