Authors: Lynn Vroman
Not one Protector dared to cross
the lines voluntarily, the squid, vicious and snarling, hungry for the kill. As
more enemies disappeared across the lines, the less stress registered on
Winston's face.
When ten more Protectors met the
squids, Tarek yelled to Winston, "Go, I got this."
Not needing any more prompting,
Winston gave him a salute, and rushed out into the melee, but not before
turning to us. "Do. Not. Leave. You heard?"
My eyes shifted to the ball of
light Tarek wielded while strength and anger seeped back into my body. Those Guides
might have been powerful, but they couldn't make me forget the hate for long.
"Lena!"
I jerked my attention toward
Winston, my mouth dry and bitter with revenge.
"You heard?"
When I nodded, he jumped in, a
lethal whirlwind of fury as he dodged bullets like a samurai while throwing
Protectors into Arcus. Everyone fought hard, but those orbs swooped in,
collecting energy, giving many more Exemplians another chance at life while
ending the lives of brave Empyreans.
The answer to the problem lay
hidden in that building, almost certainly under heavy protection. The Guides
had to die, or all this was for nothing.
I grabbed under Zander's arm and
lifted him from the ground, Exemplian bullets whizzing by us. Not willing to
take chances, I led him to the alcove under the stairs. Once we were relatively
safe, I pointed outside. "We're not gonna win if we can't get rid of the
Guides."
He squatted, pulling me down with
him when a few stray bullets lodged into the wooden planks. "What's our
plan?"
I glanced up, not expecting him to
volunteer himself but grateful all the same. "We make a run for the
building, find the bodies, and stick with the original plan."
He grabbed a stair, his face
determined. "We burn them."
"Yes."
His fingertips whitened. "On
our way here…I saw what they did to people I knew, cared about." He pursed
his lips. "We'll need help."
There wasn't time to ask about what
happened with his group and the nest in the woods, but by the hardened
expression that hadn't left his face since he came through the doors I assumed
the experience left him…well, a little like me.
I squeezed his hand before scouting
the bar. The only people of ours left were Soccer Mom and Oren. "Looks
like they're our babysitters. Guess we should tell them where we're going, huh?"
"They'll get the hint
eventually." Zander got up and reached for my hand. I clasped it, pushing
off the ground. He gave a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Ready?"
"Wouldn't matter if I wasn't."
We ducked out from under the alcove.
They'd follow us–hopefully. I gave Tarek one last glance. As if he knew, he
turned his attention to me, shaking his head.
Don't do it.
His voice vibrated inside my head,
pleading.
I pulled the gun from my belt, and
mouthed,
I have to
. Then I was gone.
Lena!
Tarek's command matched Oren's as
his boots smacked the cobblestone behind us. Of course, Zander and I kept
going, staying to the edge of the fight, making sure to avoid Wilma, Farren,
and Winston, who all fought as savagely as berserkers.
We ran hard, Zander struggling to
keep up with me. In seconds, Oren matched my pace, which would've colored me
impressed under different circumstances. He didn't try to yank me back to the
bar, though. He didn't need to be told where to go, either. Any Protectors who
noticed us, Oren handled, with his gun or fists, no one who tried able to best
him.
As we hit the courthouse's marble
stairs, Zander's wheezing cough informed me he caught up, along with Soccer Mom.
We took the steps two at a time, Oren and Soccer demolishing any detractors
with skill that would've impressed Jet Li.
What stumped me as we breached the
entry was how hardly any Protectors stayed behind to defend the nest, which punched
me in the gut as soon as we were about fifty feet down the wide, cavernous
hallway. The static tingled through my body, making me light. With effort, I
tamped down the craving to sit and enjoy it and trudged forward.
Doors marked the walls every three
feet or so, running the length of the hall, all shut and locked. As we rounded
the corner, more doors appeared for us to choose from along with about ten
Protectors blocking the door at the end of the hall. From the buzz amplifying in
my head, I knew what they protected behind that door.
None moved to attack, remaining in
a solid line, protecting the nest. Oren didn't feel so inclined to do nothing,
and neither did Soccer Mom. They blasted the guards, taking down four before
the others had time to aim their soul-stealers.
As soon as they fired, I yanked
Zander into a doorway, standing flat against the wall. My gun in hand, I couldn't
shoot. As much as I desired to kill them a short time ago, when the moment came
I couldn't. Every time I tried to aim, my hand would shake and my conscience
would freeze my trigger finger.
Zander had no such issue.
He stayed in front of me and shot
with as much precision as Oren and Soccer. Sweat dripped into my eyes and my
hands quaked even more. The fear pissed me off, the hate running scared when
faced with action.
Oren planted his body in the entry
directly across from us, Soccer a few doorways down. When the blasts from the
opposite side ended, Soccer ripped down the hall. The remaining Protector,
another woman, ran out of ammo. Before she could reload, Soccer leapt, giving
the Protector a scissor kick to the head. When the bitch fell to her knees,
Soccer grinned, sauntering behind her, watching her prey suffer. She then put
one hand on the Protector's chin and the other across her forehead. In the
silence, a loud crack echoed before the Protector slumped to the ground.
Soccer opened the door, peered
inside, and waved us forward. Fear turned to shame, my face heating on the jog
to the door. Yet again, someone had to save me. No one commented on my lack of
help, which made the shame crawl deeper into my brain. But once we ended up in
a stairwell, determination stomped on the disgrace.
Static in the well overwhelmed both
Zander and I. He held onto the railing, breathing deep, seemingly better able
to ignore the pull. Even without their energies, these Synod Guides could turn
me into a co-dependent moron. But the attraction didn't control me as wholly.
My trembling hand swept damp hair from
my brow. I glanced at Zander. "Up or down?"
He shook his head, keeping his eyes
closed and his hands clenched around the metal rail. "Don't know. Both,
maybe?"
"Okay, um…" Shit.
Oren cleared his throat after
looking out the door. "Whatever we do, we need to do it now."
I glanced over his shoulder to find
two people headed our way. When Zander's attention followed mine, he gasped,
his mouth slack. "Cassondra."
Panic ripped through me, but by
some miracle I tamped it down, my voice as calm as bathwater. "You and
Soccer Mom go upstairs." I already began racing downward, Oren following.
"It's Erin, Tainted." I
looked up to find Soc–ah, Erin grinning down at me. "Never stepped foot on
a soccer field in my life."
I nodded and kept moving. We jumped
down flights of stairs, Oren landing with more finesse than I. Funny we never
heard the door swing open, or anyone chasing us. Maybe they didn't see us? And
maybe the dead Protectors disappeared, too, right? The hairs on the back of my
neck stood. Why didn't she follow us?
As soon as we reached the ground
floor, Cassondra left my mind. Oren peered through the glass window while the static
screamed so loudly in my head it brought me to my knees.
His hair, soaked with sweat,
plastered the sides of his face. After swiping it from his forehead, he searched
again. "At least three hundred bodies are in there and not one Protector.
Easy fucking targets."
I pressed onto the cool ground,
trying to block the desire to run, flee from responsibility. These people, who
lay defenseless, lined up head to toe, helped massacre hundreds of people,
maybe more.
We had to do it.
I couldn't.
"Oren?"
He hunched to meet my eyes, his
bright with sympathy. "I was wrong about you, Tainted." He brushed my
cheek. "You have changed. Good."
"I don't think… I can't kill
them."
He sighed, biting his lower lip.
After a second, he jumped to his feet. "But I can."
An explosion rocked the building,
shaking the already floating ground. Dust landed on my head, scratching my
eyes, and clogging my throat.
Coughing, Oren said, "And it
sounds like someone else can too. Two nests, no protection. Callous
motherfuckers."
I gasped for air, pulling in more
dust. The building trembled, the dust turning to chunks of debris. Oren pulled
me from the ground, shoving me back up the stairs at the same time snatching my
satchel from my shoulder. He took his off, too, and threw both into the room,
shooting at them until they caught on fire. "Go! Go! Go!"
I raced up the stairs, my lungs
burning even as the building tumbled around us. The light guiding our way was
our glowing suits, now flickering. Another explosion ricocheted through the well.
I fell backward.
Oren caught me by the armpits, just
to throw me forward again. "Move!"
Steps crumbled underneath our feet
as we climbed, our progress too slow, like ants swimming in honey. My legs grew
heavy, but adrenaline refused to let them give up. Smoke–the ever-present smoke
polluting Empyrean–clogged the stairwell, attacking us.
I tripped, and Oren scooped me up,
dragging us both until we hit the door. Zander and Erin met us in the hall and we
all raced to the exit, the walls crumbling in our wake. Another boom crashed
through the building, knocking us the last few feet outside and down the marble
stairs.
Zander lay motionless next to Oren,
who sputtered and gagged. I crawled to him, leaning on his chest. "Zander!"
I shook his shoulder when he didn't respond. "Wake up! Please! Wake up…
Wake up."
He coughed once. Twice. His eyes
fluttered open as he floundered, searching the streets. "Did we do it?"
I laughed–and cried. "Yeah, we
did."
The streets looked like a scene right
out of a WWII movie, bodies strewn everywhere. But most were Exemplian bodies, and
the only light shining on the once beautiful town came from the orange sunrise.
No more orbs. No more control. Portals opened as the surviving Protectors left,
some devastated, no doubt because they left without their Guides, whose
energies stayed here. For Teenesee.
My legs wobbled as I struggled to
my feet, Oren behind me helping. Relief cleared away the pain, both physical
and mental.
We did it.
We won.
Hopefully Teenesee would find a way
to heal herself and her people.
"You!"
I snapped my head to the right to
find Wilma rushing toward me. Rage fired through her blue eyes, her suit turned
off and unbuttoned in the front. Oh, man. I had a lot to apologize for, but I'd
do it with a smile on my face. For starters, I needed to make sure she knew
exactly how much she meant. What I said to her before… No, she was everything.
I grinned with a shrug. "I–"
A bullet skated past my head.
Surprised shined on Wilma's face
before the blue sphere slammed into her chest.
Her eyes widened.
She fell.
"
Noooooo!
" I dropped
to my knees, cradling her head…rocking.
Rocking.
Rocking.
Rocking.
"Wilma?" I covered her
wound. Blood seeped through my fingers. "
Wilma!
"
Blood leaked from her mouth.
So much blood.
"
Please!
"
Her whitened lips moved, but no
sound came out.
More blood.
"
No…
" My face
buried in her neck as her body stiffened.
Life drained away.
"Oh, God, no! Please. I'm
sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry."
Sorry.
Sorry.
Sorry
.
Yelling, screaming, cursing
rendered the air. Wave after wave of screams.
My screams.
Zander's. "Stay away from her!"
A woman, as colorless as Casimir, stood
above us.
Cassondra.
She smiled and held out her hand.
Wilma took one last breath as the bullet lodged in her chest came loose, flying
into Cassondra's palm. I felt a whoosh, and a hole punctured my heart. An empty
space. Gutted.
She held the glowing blue pellet
for me to see. "You took from me, and now I'll take
everything
from
you."