No attack came, no demands or even conversation. The soldier of the Order simply stood there, observing me through the slits in his shining helmet, tall, wide shouldered body rigid and observant.
I glared back, beginning to feel like a rat in a glass box, hating the trapped knot of anxiety in my stomach. I’d embraced the peace Creator’s heart offered but old habits die hard. It was far easier to return to the familiar anger I used as my shield for so long. Finally, when so much time passed my discomfort no longer allowed me to stay silent, I crossed my arms over my chest and tossed my head.
“Well?” My voice crackled, snapping with fury and frustration. “What are you waiting for?” I was so ready for the impending fight. He didn’t stand a chance.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Hayle. And maybe you’d survive another ten seconds.
A sound emerged from behind his helmet, so unexpected I felt my face crumple in shock, all the anger running out of me a moment, only to surge back when I realized the bastard was laughing.
He was laughing. At me.
Oh, no he did not.
“You won’t find my foot up your ass very damned funny,” I snarled.
His gauntleted hands reached up, removed his helmet. I clenched my jaw against what might be underneath, though I knew the Order soldiers were as human appearing as I was. I wasn’t expecting to find him attractive. Pale gray eyes and dirty blond hair, the way his jaw darkened from his need to shave or the fact there was something achingly and instantly recognizable about him I couldn’t put my finger on.
No. I didn’t know him. It was my need to find a way to escape driving me to connect with him so I could get the hell out of here. That was all.
Even the girls seemed doubtful about my logic, but all of us let it go as he spoke.
“I’m shocked by such unladylike threats,” he said in a deep, expressive voice, full, wide lips turning up on one side in a smile. Laughter lurked in his gaze, in the set of his shoulders as he tucked his helmet under one arm. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Splutter. What the hell was this? Torture by snark?
He looked me up and down, raking me purposely with his gaze. When he met my eyes again, one of his arching eyebrows lifted, still with humor on his handsome face. “You’re the Doombringer?”
My jaw jumped. Arrogant asshat. I can’t say why I was so offended by his casual and jovial attitude. Except this was serious business, wasn’t it? His damned god just stripped me bare and left me for mush. His people wanted me dead, had captured and imprisoned me, were trying to break into my Universe and take over. And this was funny to him?
“So they tell me.” I pulled myself to my full height, knowing my reach was no match for his well over six feet. And took stock of myself with grim embarrassment I crushed with anger. Okay, so maybe I didn’t look all that impressive at the moment. Not with my white t-shirt filthy and torn, my jeans about the same shape, the laces of one sneaker dangling dangerously around my ripped tread. I blew absently at a stray lock of hair that had escaped what remained of my ponytail and did my best to look impressive anyway.
He smirked.
Of anything he could have done at that moment, smirking was the wrong choice. I snarled under my breath and let some power out.
“I’m in stealth mode,” I said.
He laughed out loud at that, a ringing sound, rich and vibrant. It offended me to the core of my being. I have no idea how I refrained from crossing the distance between us and punching him in the face, but I did. Good for me.
He finally stopped, genuine humor fading at last, though his smile never left him. And, in that instant, he delivered another massive shock as he stepped aside, clearing the exit, one arm extended as he freed his helmet with the other and gestured for me to precede him.
“Are you going to stand there all day?” The metal sang like a struck bell as he lifted the helm to face height and paused, grinning. “Or are you going to come with me?”
“Why should I?” My question stopped his hands, the helmet part way over his face. When he finally lowered it the rest of the way, his good humor came through in the hollow echo of his voice.
“I thought you wanted to save the Universe, Sydlynn Hayle.” He paused, waited, expectant.
A trap, a trick. My demon’s power swirled in acute agitation.
Possibly, Shaylee sent, troubled herself but more trusting than any of us, it felt like.
Softening us up, my demon sent. We should stay put.
And do what, exactly? My vampire sighed. Let’s find out what he wants. It’s not as though we have much choice anyway, do we?
She was right. He could force us to go.
He could try. My demon was going to be a problem, clearly.
Trust. Faith. Belief. It was all or nothing, wasn’t it? And from the way he stood there, quiet and non-confrontational, I had to choose to do as Creator asked me and just take that leap of hell yeah.
If this is some tactic of theirs, we’ll be ready. As ready as we could be, under the circumstances. That assurance seemed to make my demon settle at least. But confusion and the need to trust wasn’t a happy mix while I stepped forward, the fight going out of me briefly as I grasped firmly onto Fate and Creator’s heart, the black ribbon tight around my wrist.
And took a chance this was what was intended all along.
***