All except one. Danev drew in a sharp breath when he glanced through the bathroom door and saw President Janel lying face down in the tub, shot execution-style at short range.
It had been a hundred fifty years since an Arkadian president had been assassinated, and it was commonly believed that the last one had also become an enemy of the Enclave. He and his entire family had “accidentally” burned to death inside their own mansion. The message then had been just as chilling as it was now.
“The first torbo president,” Danev murmured, “murdered in his washroom.”
“Gregori.”
The voice came from across the hallway, and Danev spun on a heel and raced outside. He didn’t really want to see what he knew was in there, but he knew he had to.
“She didn’t cower,” Glenn whispered as he stood over the bed. Karyn Marose was slumped across it, a pair of knife wounds in her back.
“Goddess embrace you,” Jean prayed as she placed her hands on her old friend’s face and closed her eyes. “May you find peace in the Fane.”
Glenn balled his hand into a fist. “And then there were five.”
“When I get my hands on Simon, we’ll be down to four,” Danev said. “After Jack, we can make it three.”
“They don’t matter right now,” Glenn growled as he spun to face the open door. “We have to get to Evelyn before it’s too late.”
Danev placed a hand on Jean’s shoulder and another on Karyn’s still-warm cheek. He almost wished the Eclipseans had stuck around….but vengeance had never really been his thing. And in the end it would just waste more time and more lives, and right now they didn’t have a lot of either.
“We can cut across Duren Street to save time,” Danev said. “With luck, we should be able to make it in ten minutes or less.”
“Then let’s go,” Glenn replied, tossing a final look down at their old friend. “We’re not losing anyone else today.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Amaya Soroshi’s thoughts lingered on her family. In just under a year of working for Chaval, she’d sent back enough money to give them an honest start at rebuilding their lives…but that was all it was, a start. It would take her years to earn enough to guarantee them a real future, years during which Steamworks would no doubt rape and pillage Talam until nothing remained but barren fields and indentured servants.
She turned to face her employer and reeled at the sight of the sick, twisted grin stretching across his face. He was the same man who had given her a once-in-a-lifetime chance to save her family. He was the same man who had put a bunch of poor and disenfranchised peasants to work all across western Arkadia. He was the same man whose revolutionary vision of the future was echoging across the entire world.
Yet he might also have been the most evil person Amaya had ever met. He had sold his people on a lie, and perhaps even worse he had been a hypocrite while doing it. All this time he had been a mage, fully capable of wielding the power he waged war against. And all of it—the grand speeches, the remarkable innovations, even the revolution itself—was driven by a petty thirst for revenge against those who had turned their backs on him.
Amaya felt sick. She had worked for evil men before; she had probably spent most of her life doing just that. But at least the Talami warlords had been honest about their intentions. They wanted power, pure and simple. They wanted to take control of the shattered remnants of her homeland and make it theirs, and they made no apologies for their ambition. Perhaps that didn’t actually make it any better, but somehow it felt different.
Her mother had once told her that good and evil were just words men used to justify their actions and demonize those of others. The only constant in the world, she’d insisted, was survival. She had traded her body and ultimately her life to ensure that her daughter would live, and for a long time Amaya had heeded her words. In a world of brigands, tycoons, and warlords, morality was a razor thin wire that cut anyone who dared cross it.
But right now, standing here in this chamber surrounded by Chaval’s madness, she knew that evil did indeed have a face. And she knew that if she looked into a mirror, it would be staring right back at her.
“Last chance, Evelyn,” Chaval taunted the young woman. “Watch him die, or become what you were born to be.”
DeShane dragged herself to a crouch, her left cheek scarred and blistered from Chaval’s whip. A swirl of Fane energy coiled around her like a serpent, and her eyes flashed dangerously as she gathered all her strength.
“Eve,” the young man whispered, grasping at the hole in his leg. “You can’t.”
DeShane turned to face him, and it was like she completely deflated. The magic vanished, and all the strength seemed to drain from her limbs. She collapsed to her knees and huddled over him, tears streaking down her face.
Chaval grunted and turned to Amaya. “Shoot him.”
The
yohisha
leveled her gun and fired.
Chaval screeched as her cellium bullet pierced his protective sphere and tore through his shoulder. The shimmering bubble vanished, and he clutched at his wound as he fell flat to the ground.
Amaya looked at her outstretched hand as if seeing it for the first time. A tendril of smoke puffed from the barrel, and for a long moment she could have sworn she was watching someone else. Finally she came to her senses and shifted her aim straight down at his head.
And then she was falling upwards. She flailed desperately in a vain effort to grab onto something before crashing violently into the ceiling. The air left her lungs in a stale gasp, and the glass cracked all around her. Something sharp jabbed through her back, and her vision blurred as blood welled up in her throat.
She was dead. Her breath was gone and it wasn’t coming back. She couldn’t feel her legs, and all she could taste was blood. Her thoughts turned again to Talam, to the family she was about to abandon because of one foolish act of morality. They wouldn’t even know how she died. She prayed they never learned about the man she had worked for.
A cold hand wrapped around hers, and Amaya tilted her head. The Vakari was there, pressed against the glass next to her, pinned by the same invisible force and unable to move.
“I can stop him,” the woman breathed.
Only days ago Amaya had tried to kill this creature. She’d nearly succeeded, in fact. Now she might have been the only chance of stopping Chaval and preventing this catastrophe. She wanted to feed upon Amaya’s ebbing life and use its power to break free.
And she was
asking
. That might have been the strangest part. She could have just taken what she wanted; she could have easily swallowed Amaya’s last breath without her permission. But instead she was pleading for it, and Amaya couldn’t understand why. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the other woman’s sparkling green eyes, and for a moment she couldn’t decide which of them was ultimately the bigger monster.
With the last of her strength, Amaya nodded. The creature reached out just enough to touch her skin, and the Vakari’s eyes went white as she started to feed. There was no pain, no screaming, only a bitter chill that slowly wrapped itself around Amaya’s body and dragged her down into darkness.
***
Eve watched as Chaval hurled his bodyguard to the ceiling. He clutched his hand to his shoulder, and blood streaked across the white fabric of his undershirt. His protective magic was gone, and Eve knew this might be her one and only chance to strike before he could recover.
She lashed out with everything she could muster. A brilliant, shimmering torrent of electricity, flame, and raw Fane energy burst from her fingertips and struck Chaval squarely in the chest. He screamed as he reeled backwards against the blast. For an instant he vanished completely amidst the surge of power, but then the Flensing abruptly took another bite. Eve screeched and lost control of the spell, and it was all she could do to remain conscious. She whimpered and tumbled over in a ball, unable to draw even a single breath.
Chaval roared angrily as he tried to steady himself. His tunic had burned away completely, and both his face and chest were badly charred. Eve could scarcely believe he was still conscious, but rage alone seemed to keep him upright as he staggered forward.
He glanced down to his bodyguard’s abandoned gun, the cellium-loaded pistol that had nearly killed him. He opened his palm, and the weapon leapt into his grip.
“Close, but still not enough,” he growled. “Why do you allow yourself to be crippled by the Flensing? You are a born Defiler. Take the power around you and use it!”
Eve clawed at the floor. She could breathe now, albeit barely. Her arms still weren’t responding, and she couldn’t feel her legs. She was dimly aware of Zach holding on to her; he might have been talking, but she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear much of anything at this point.
But she could
feel
. Past the pain, past all the distractions, she could feel the flora in the arboretum for what they truly were: small sparks of energy connected to the Fane. Just like the vermin back in the warehouse, they could be her gateway to greater power. Snuffing out their lives would allow her to weave without facing the Flensing. It was the only thing that would let her finish Chaval.
No, that wasn’t true. She did have one other option, and in the end, it was the only real way to avenge her mother, protect her friends, and avoid turning into the monster she feared.
But it had its own price.
Eve pushed her hand down on the cold floor and slowly brought herself to a crouch. She called out to the Fane again, but this time it burned as it coursed through her. The cost of this spell, she knew, would be her life. The Flensing would consume her completely, but if she could focus long enough to strike him one last time…
A swirling vortex of violet energy formed in her palm, glowing so brightly she could have been holding a piece of a star. She could feel the overwhelming heat on her face despite her body’s numbness, and it dried the tears against her cheeks.
“No, not like this,” Chaval said, pulling back the pistol’s hammer and aiming it down at Zach. “You will Defile, Evelyn, or I will kill him. You cannot defeat me any other way!”
Eve heard Zach’s voice again. It was faint, like a distant plea at the back of her mind. He knew what she was going to do, and he knew it was going to kill her.
But it didn’t matter. This was the only choice, the only way she could save him—
A loud thud reverberated across the room as Shaedra inexplicably dropped to the floor. Her eyes were a solid white, and she roared like a caged animal. Chaval spun to face the new threat, but for once he wasn’t fast enough. The Vakari smacked the gun from his hands with a wild swing and then kicked him over to the ground.
“Run,” she said, turning briefly to face Eve. “Take Zach and run!”
With that, Shaedra pounced upon Chaval, and the room exploded in a burst of searing light. Eve could barely make out their bodies as the two magi discharged their power at one another. The air hissed as if it had suddenly caught fire, and the flora in the room almost immediately blackened. The entire building rumbled like an earthquake had struck the heart of the city.
And the Fane…the Fane cried out in agony.
Eve aborted her spell and reached down to grab onto Zach. She couldn’t feel her legs, but somehow she found the strength to command them. She swept him up in her arms, and for some inexplicable reason he felt almost weightless.
She ran. When she reached the door, she risked a single, furtive glance backwards—and her blood froze in her veins. A shapeless black mass now stretched out across the room. It billowed outwards, a cloud of pure darkness swallowing everything it touched. The Fane screamed in anguish so loudly it nearly knocked her from her feet.
Eve turned away and ran down the steps, Zach held tightly in her arms. She didn’t look back.