“Sam and Trey,” he corrected. “Apparently, Trey had a vision, which he wants to discuss with us.”
I nodded while pushing against him, enticing him to enter me. He pulled himself away, but smiled, tsking at me for my impatience. “And no word from Christina?” I asked as innocently as possible.
He shook his head. “I expect we have a little time to spend by ourselves.” Then he smiled wickedly, and retreated from me when I pushed my pelvis forward, pleading for him to enter. “And I plan to spend it wisely.”
“Fagan is all finished with the draft?” I asked, undulating my hips against him, still determined to get my way.
“As far as I understand,” he said. Then, without another word, he pushed his entire length inside me. I moaned my surprise and pleasure as I began grinding my hips against him, relishing the rhythm as he pulled out and plunged back in again.
The fleeting thought that this could be the last time we made love shattered my bliss like a sharp blade. I had to forcibly ignore it. I refused to focus on the scary what-ifs that dangled before me. Yes, our future was uncertain; and yes, tonight would mark the end of my familiar world, at least as I knew it; but that didn’t exclude one last tryst in the here and now.
As far as I was concerned, here and now were all we had left.
I swallowed down my feelings of fear and despondency, choosing to focus on the beautiful man in front of me. His eyes began to glow as he stared at me and leaned down, grazing my lips with his incredibly gently. Then he pushed inside me as deeply as he could while I gasped with pleasure.
“Everything is going to be all right,” he whispered as he pulled his lips away from mine.
Saying nothing, I nodded, all the while hoping and praying he was right.
###
About an hour later, Sam, Trey, Dia, Christina, Fagan, Erika, Rachel and Quillan arrived at our makeshift living room. It was comprised of a two-person couch and two side chairs in the hotel suite. Because there wasn’t ample seating space, Trey and Christina sat Indian-style on the ground, while Sam and I relaxed on the bed, and Quill and Knight occupied opposite sides of the room, both standing and neither one making eye contact.
During the reunion between Christina and her team, everyone asked her a bazillion questions, including what happened with the
Blueliss
, as well as Bram and my father. I didn’t know who would take over from here on out, Christina or Knight, but I wasn’t exactly surprised when Knight cleared his throat, intimating his position as first in command.
“As I understand, Fagan, the draft is complete?” the Loki asked, folding his arms across his chest as he faced the Drow who looked less than happy to be present and accounted for. And I didn’t think Fagan’s lack of enthusiasm was in response to this meeting—it appeared that was just how he was all the time—miserable.
Knight nodded with an expression of curiosity as he turned to Erika, who was busily chomping a wad of gum. This one smelled grape-flavored. Before Knight could inquire as to where she stood with regard to her responsibilities, she began anxiously nodding, like she was listening to her favorite song.
“All my soldiers are ready and waiting for the go ahead,” she said, smiling broadly. “We had a pow-wow this morning where I gave an awesome pep talk and now everything is cool beans.”
Knight nodded as he gave Fagan and Erika a congratulatory smile. “Good work. “ Then he turned to face the rest of us. “Dulcie and I have uncovered some new information that will be of interest to all of you,” he started. Pulling the portal ripper from one of his jeans pockets and Bram’s pocket watch from the other, he began explaining what each did. After the oohs and ahhs, Knight then informed everyone of Bram’s advice regarding using the portal ripper to create a passage to Squander Valley.
As expected, no one seemed enthused about the
Bregone
swamp part; but once I assured them that wearing a gas mask would ensure their safety, they seemed more on board.
“So that leads us to the next agenda item, which is … Who would like to lead the unit into Squander Valley?” Knight asked.
“I’m going after my father,” I said adamantly, not wanting anyone to think that particular job was up for grabs. To me, it all started with my father and that’s where it would end.
“It’s too dangerous,” Quill commented while shaking his head.
“Quill,” I started, but he silenced me by holding up his hand, letting me know in no uncertain terms that he intended to voice an opinion on this subject.
“I’ve held my tongue this whole time, Dulce, but I can’t any longer. You make it sound like offing your father is an easy task,” he began.
“I never said that,” I interrupted, sensing the anger as it churned in my stomach. I’ve always had an aversion to people telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. This time, I was steadfast in my mission to take down my father.
“It’s not a matter of cutting a portal with some cool kitchen gadget that Bram gave you,” Quill continued. “Your father will have bodyguards, as well as other thugs surrounding him. And these guys don’t pussy-foot around. They kill first and ask questions later.”
“No one can talk me out of this,” I said with steely resolve.
“I’m not arguing that your father shouldn’t be taken out,” Quill continued. “I am fully onboard with that, but not with you risking your life.”
“I appreciate your concern …”
“Between your life and his, Melchior won’t hesitate to sacrifice you,” Quill interrupted. “Those are odds I’m not comfortable with.”
“My mind is already made up,” I answered.
Quill shook his head, his eyes showing as much determination as mine. He glared at me while I glared back. “Sometimes you are so fucking stubborn,” he whispered. Without waiting for my response, he turned to Knight, who hadn’t budged from his position on the opposite side of the room, and was watching us with piqued interest.
“And what about you?” Quill demanded, turning his glare from me to Knight.
“What about me?” Knight asked defensively.
“You supposedly care for her …”
“There’s no ‘supposedly’ about it,” Knight rebuffed, his eyes glowing as a warning.
“Then explain to her that what she’s doing is insane, and it’s only going to get her killed. You said you were familiar with Netherworld politics, so you must know what Melchior’s capable of.”
Knight nodded. “I’m more than aware.”
“So why the fuck are you sending Dulcie to her death?” Quill railed back at him.
Knight didn’t respond right away. His jaw seemed incredibly tight and his knuckles turned white, indicating he was probably only seconds away from erupting. “Dulcie is more than capable of taking anyone out,” he said icily. “She’s the best Regulator I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not debating her abilities as a Regulator. She worked for me longer than she worked for you. Believe me, I am more than aware of her skills.”
Knight’s eyes glowed even more brightly and he folded his arms against his chest in an apparent attempt to keep his temper under control. When he didn’t say anything, Quill continued.
“Melchior O’Neil isn’t just anybody,” he finished.
Knight shook his head as he looked at me. I could see the angst in his eyes and realized that he agreed in part with Quill. Part of him didn’t want me to fight at all—he wanted to ensure that I was safe. But the other part understood that I
had
to go after my father. I
had
to make him pay not only for what he’d done to me, but for what he’d done to every other Netherworld creature as well.
“I respect Dulcie; and for that reason, I support whatever decision she makes,” Knight said finally. I nodded at him, revealing my appreciation.
Despite outward appearances that I was nonchalantly grateful for Knight’s words, inside me was another story. Knight’s verbal endorsement, despite the fact that I was sure he concurred with Quillan, was one of the reasons I loved him as much as I did. Why? Because Knight always encouraged me to be
me
.
“And you do realize that you could lose her?” Quill continued heatedly. “That we
all
could lose her?”
Knight simply nodded as Quill shook his head angrily. Turning to face me, Quill sighed, then started for the door. “I need some fresh air,” he said, throwing the door open and disappearing behind it.
I swallowed hard as I weighed whether or not Quill was right. Maybe my pigheadedness would cost me my life; but on the flipside, maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would cost my father’s life. And those were the odds I was willing to take.
“So who will volunteer to command the attack on Squander Valley?” Knight asked again, eyeing each of us in turn.
“I’ll do it,” Christina piped up. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“But you’re…” Dia started, no doubt intending to remind Christina that she was the head of The Resistance, and thus immune from volunteering.
But Christina shook her head, with a beaming smile at me. “This fight belongs to all of us. What good is it if we don’t fight?”
Dia nodded as she faced Knight again. “Christina’s taking Squander Valley, and Dulce is going after her father; so where do you want the rest of us?”
After a few minutes of conversation, we agreed that Christina and Dia would lead the attack on Squander Valley; while Knight, Quill and I would take the most highly trained Resistance soldiers and go after my father. Yes, Knight was less than thrilled to have Quill onboard, but I insisted he take part. I knew Quill could help us find and take down my father. Erika, Rachel and Sam planned to stage a fictitious surrender at the Netherworld airport to create a distraction and draw the Netherworld Guard away from our co-occurring attacks. Finally, Fagan and Trey would lead a raid on the second largest Netherworld Guard base in Tipshaw, only a few hundred miles from Squander Valley.
“So we’re good?” Knight asked, looking at each of us pointedly.
I started to nod when I noticed Sam shaking her head. She faced Knight and sighed. “There was something Trey and I wanted to talk to you all about,” she said in a despondent voice.
Knight nodded. “That’s right—you said as much over the phone. I’m sorry. It escaped my mind.”
Sam waved away his concern with her hand and turned to face Trey. “Okay, Trey, the floor is yours,” she said. She smiled at him as if he were a five-year-old about to appear in his first play.
As expected, everyone’s attention focused on the hobgoblin, who sat on the floor, holding his knees to his chest. His face was pale, beyond its usual pasty white. I suddenly realized that in the course of our discussions, Trey hadn’t said one word. Instead, he’d just sat there, holding his knees to his chest while rocking back and forth.
“I, uh … I had a vision,” he said softly, exhaling a pent-up breath, and sounding anxious about something. I knew Trey well enough to recognize whatever vision he’d had wasn’t a happy one. Trey’s visions often stressed him out because they came without warning. Many times, he even channeled the perspective of the evil-doer, which resulted in even more anxiety.
“Are you okay, Trey?” I asked with a reassuring smile.
He shook his head, and his eyes dropped down to his untied sneakers as he rocked back and forth, seemingly to try to console himself.
“What happened?” Knight asked, glancing first at Trey and then at Sam. “What vision?”
Sam shook her head. “He wouldn’t tell me; he just asked me to call you to see if we could come over,” she said. Facing the hobgoblin again, Sam said, “Trey, you can tell us what happened, what you saw.” She flashed her best “mom” expression, which usually coaxed him into confessing. He glanced at her and swallowed hard before facing Knight as well as me.
“I got a vision of something I didn’t like,” he said, biting his lip.
“What was it?” I asked.
“It wasn’t so much a vision,” he corrected. With a shrug, he started rocking back and forth again, wobbling like an unbalanced rocking chair.
“Was it more of a feeling?” Sam asked. He nodded, but still made no motion to say anything, and his eyes were filled with worry. It was never easy when Trey got into such moods. Usually, it took days to console him, and even longer still before he resumed his normal, jovial personality.
“Yeah, it was more of a feeling,” Trey nodded. “It hit me early this morning. I woke up and everything felt normal, well, as normal as it could feel, considering what’s going on,” he started. As he continued, his eyes got wider and I could see his hands beginning to shake. “All of a sudden, I just started to feel this really bad feeling in my stomach. At first, I thought the eggs and bacon I had for breakfast were bad or something, but this feeling was different. It wasn’t like the stomach ache you get when you’re gonna hurl.” He took a deep breath and paused for a few seconds before glancing up at me again. “It was a feeling of … like … a really bad dread. Like something bad is gonna happen.”
“But we sort of already know that, right, Trey?” I asked, trying to sound sympathetic. “I mean, invading the Netherworld isn’t going to be easy, and people will inevitably get hurt.” I paused for a few seconds. “Bad stuff
is
going to happen. There’s no way around it.”
He shook his head like I wasn’t getting it. “The feeling wasn’t anything like that,” he said dismissively. “It wasn’t anything in general. It was way worse than that …” his voice faded as he looked away.
“What, Trey?” I prodded, straining to understand what he appeared to be keeping from me.
“It was like I suddenly had this knowledge, like someone let me look into a crystal ball to see the future, only it wasn’t something I could see with my eyes. It was something I could feel; and it was this horrible feeling of … loss, like something very important to me was ripped away.” When he faced me again, his eyes seemed hollow, wide and filled with fear. “And I knew what it was almost immediately.”
“What was it?” Rachel asked.
“It was death,” Trey answered softly. “It was an intense feeling that someone is going to die.”
Then he became quiet again as he started rocking back and forth, leaving all of us to wonder exactly what his words meant. I was a little baffled because death in wartime shouldn’t have come as any surprise. It was expected—if we attacked the Netherworld, creatures would die. That was all there was to it.