On the drive, Wes and I have a decent time. When I’m not lost in memories of making out with Marienne, we enjoy some good music, discuss the situation in Dallas, and even talk about the Hellion gateway (which includes me stressing again how he and Beatrix cannot let slip to Grayhem that they know about it).
In the silent stretches, though, I feel kind of…weird. I can’t place why that is, but I don’t mention it. I eventually chalk it up to the long drive and me feeling grumpy about leaving Marienne. Neither does it help lighten the atmosphere when Wes zones out and charges the air on his side of the Jeep with silent longing for his wife. I don’t think he’s ever been this far from her.
We told the girls we would call them when we arrived at the Sanctum in Dallas, but that doesn’t quite happen. We don’t have a free minute between spotting the family-owned store disguising the local Lightforce headquarters and being rushed into a meeting once we’re underground. The Texan Light guys were ready and waiting not only to catch sight of us but also to help us out of the Jeep, get us through the store, haul us past their own passcode-protected doors, and escort us into a conference room downstairs. They don’t even give us time to put our stuff down in our temporary bedrooms. We’re offered a bathroom run, but we’re told to be quick because there’s a lot to discuss.
Although I don’t take my time, I do take an extra second after washing my hands to text Marienne:
Here and safe and already being pulled into a meeting. I’ll call you in a little while.
It’s pretty lame; I wish I could hear her voice already, or even just text her something better than this. I wish I could tell her I can’t quit thinking about how much I love that necklace on her. Or about how her hugs make me feel like nothing else is allowed to touch me, even though she’s smaller than me. Or how I’ve relived yesterday in my head three thousand times already because I’ve never kissed or been kissed like that—like time and the world outside were non-issues because we were learning each other and that was all that mattered.
But these are things that will have to wait. They’ll have to rattle around in my chest until after this meeting.
It’s only a little after 2:00 when we all sit down, but everyone acts like they’ve been waiting for me and Wes for forever. We meet the people involved in this thing: first Bartholomew the Director, Lon from Armaments, and the Defender trainer Reibek. Then five of the Defenders from this area: Delaney, Thompson, Smith, Cates, and Simon. Then Torrance and May, the two Defenders from El Paso.
Wes introduces himself as the Defender trainer from Fayetteville and me as his colleague and Fayetteville’s Gatherer trainer. A couple of the men look at me strangely, but I just smile at them. They’ll find out soon enough that being a Gatherer doesn’t make me useless.
“All right, men,” Bartholomew says, crossing his arms. “Here’s the plan….”
And what a plan it turns out to be. He has evidently been putting it together for some time. He’s got locations, times, transportation details, maps, even extra weapons for the ten of us who are involved. Because as it turns out, this isn’t an investigation like Wes and I were told—these guys have been investigating.
We’re here to help them handle the Hellions, just like Marienne predicted.
For the most part, I’m torn between being surprised by this change and amused by her intuition. But something else pokes at me the whole time Bartholomew explains things to us.
It takes me three whole hours to figure out it’s that strange feeling I had in the car.
It creeps further and further into me the longer I sit around this table and sink into the details of the impending attack.
It’s just nerves, I try to tell myself. Nerves and new people and a new place and not knowing how long this is going to take. Calm down.
Except my job hardly ever makes me nervous. When it does, it’s because I don’t understand what’s happening, like when Marienne and I found the gateway. But this is different. I know what’s up here. Even though I didn’t think we’d be fighting when we got here, I’ve gotten used to the idea since then. I’ve been listening to a very long explanation on what’s going on and what’s expected of me, and I’m with a bunch of other people.
And that’s another thing: new people don’t make me nervous, either. I’m a Gatherer. My job deals exclusively with people I don’t know. I’ve also traveled a ton, so unfamiliar places don’t freak me out. The length of our stay here is a detail I’d appreciate knowing, but I’m not so worked up about it that it justifies my stomach feeling this unsettled.
So what’s wrong with me?
I look at everyone else several times during the meeting. A few appear somber, but I can’t tell any of them feel quite the way I do—except for Wes. He doesn’t look wholly comfortable.
That at least makes me feel a little less crazy. Still, I make a mental note to discuss it with him after we’re dismissed. Then I try to tune back in to the confab.
By the time we’re done with the meeting, it’s 6:30. We’re told to grab some food and be back in two hours so we can leave and carry out our plan.
Wes and I find a pizza place easily. After we order at the counter, we sit down in a corner booth to talk privately.
Before I can even say anything, he announces frankly, “I feel fucking weird about this, man.”
I suck on my teeth. “Yeah, that makes two of us. But I can’t figure out why.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t, either. Something around here just feels…off.”
Frowning, I ask, “Is it the people?” even though I don’t believe it.
“Nah. I mean, I don’t think so.” He sighs. “Maybe it’s just the situation. I personally haven’t ever heard of more than maybe five Hellions causing trouble at the same time. These guys think we’re going to encounter anywhere from fifteen to twenty-five tonight. Maybe the fact that we’ve been called into this at all is what’s so bizarre.”
I nod slowly and thump the straw in my glass of water. “Maybe. So let me get this straight because, honestly, I zoned out for a bit.”
He chuckles in understanding.
“This group of Hellions has been meeting up every night for the past several days on some vacated piece of land outside the city. Our guys figure they’re directly responsible for the recent killings of both Light people and regular people around here, since they’ve been heard speaking openly about it and even brought in a couple of people and violently murdered them at this place. Both normal people, we’re told.”
He nods.
“So our plan is to sneak out there and ambush them. Take them all out. Leave.”
He nods again. “That’s my understanding.”
Saying it out loud like this lessens my anxiety a little bit. “Well, I wonder why they haven’t mentioned when we can go back home. For as many details as they’ve dug up and planned out, it seems pretty straightforward.”
“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees. “Maybe they’re just trying to leave some breathing room for us. Maybe once we actually do it, they’ll be like, ‘Done and done, fellas. Thanks. Now go back to your own city and take your girls out on a nice date, because one of them is having a birthday this weekend and she’s not going to like it if her husband isn’t there.’”
I laugh. “Speaking of the girls,” I say, my heartbeat doing something crazy just at thinking about yesterday, “Marienne and I encountered her ex-boyfriend yesterday at U of A. He got belligerent and came at me, and she jumped in and started beating his ass.”
Wes’s eyes widen and he chokes on his water. After a few seconds, he laughs. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, she went all Defender on him. He tried to push her out of his way so he could hit me, and she didn’t take it for a second.” I can’t help but grin widely at the memory. “Knocked his hand off her, shoved him back, slapped the piss out of him, then turned around and backhanded him.”
He laughs, tipping his head back. “Oh my God. I wish I’d seen it. I wish B had seen it. She’d be so proud.”
“I was proud. It was fantastic.”
I get a knowing look from him. “Mmm, so B was right. Mari is crazy about you. Started whipping wholesale ass right there in front of people because she wanted to protect you.” He flutters his eyelashes.
“Whatever,” I say on a chuckle. “I mean, yeah, maybe, but I don’t think it was just that. I think it was that he’s caused her a lot of stress and pain already, and then he went after me.” I shrug a shoulder. “Even if I’d been some random stranger, I’d have enjoyed it.” After a beat, “In fact, the random strangers who saw it did enjoy it.”
“No doubt. She’s an excellent fighter. By the way, how was her first go with her weapons?”
I wish I could report that she laid out a bunch of Hellions with them—well, kind of. I really like that the day turned out like it did. So I just say pretty vaguely, “Just as great as her training. She’s good.”
“Cool. Hey!” He looks like he just remembered something exciting. “Did those guys from El Paso say they brought guns?”
We talk about the extra weapons mentioned in the meeting until our food comes. Thanks to what happened when I was sixteen, I’ve never shot a gun before and I don’t know a thing about them, so I’m intrigued but not drooling about it like Wes. I let him daydream about getting to shoot something tonight, hoping no one expects me to do the same. I’d probably do more harm than good; I’m inexperienced, and a bullet is a bullet whether or not it’s got Light blood in it.
Our food is good, but it’s gone too quickly, along with our time. We get back to the Sanctum with about twenty minutes left before we have to rejoin the others, so we take our stuff to our rooms. I glance around at the blank walls, simple furniture, and plain colors as my fingers find Marienne’s number in my phone.
She picks up after two rings. “Hi, Gabe.”
Her voice sounds a little different on the phone than it does in person, but it’s still like music to me. I still love the way she says my name, and I can still tell she’s smiling.
I’m reminded all over again how lost I am to her.
“Hi, gorgeous,” I reply, picturing that smile.
She laughs, sounding happy and bashful at the same time. “That’s nice, but you don’t know what I look like right now. You’re a little too far away.”
“I can see you in my head,” I inform her as I sit down on my bed, “and you look gorgeous.”
A softer laugh meets my ear. “You look even better in my head. I promise you that.”
“Impossible.” I smile and lean forward to put my elbows on my knees. “Hey, I’m sorry it took so long to call. They accosted us the second they saw the Jeep, and since then…” I sigh, “…we’ve just been bombarded with information.”
She says, “It’s okay,” like she means it, but her next words are careful. “What do you have to do?”
“Well…let’s just say it’s a good thing we didn’t bet on whether or not I was coming to kill Hellions. I would’ve lost pretty badly.”
I hear her groan. “Shit.”
“They’ve got it all figured out, though, and Wes and I know exactly what we’re supposed to do. And they didn’t tell us it’ll only be a one-night thing, but we can’t see how it could go any longer. It’s a simple plan.”
“Are you the only two going?”
“Nah. There are eight other guys going with us.” I pause and try not to sound like the weird feeling is prickling at me again. “There are quite a few Hellions. They’ve been meeting in one place for several days. That’s where we’re going.”
“Gabe….” I can hear the worry in her voice.
“We’re all very capable,” I promise her. “It’ll be fine. We’ve even got extra weapons.”
She sighs. “When do you have to go?”
I don’t want to waste time looking for a clock, so I just say, “Really soon.”
A few seconds of silence fall. Then, “Look, I didn’t want to say anything before, but I have to now. I don’t feel right about this thing you’re doing, and neither does Beatrix. I’ve tried not to dwell on it, but it’s been jabbing at the backs of my eyes and it’s worse now that I know for sure you’re not there just to have a look around.”
I drop my head into my free hand, shoulders slumping. “Well, if you want to know the truth,” I say tentatively, “Wes and I kind of agree.”
“What!” she yelps. “And you still went? Why didn’t you tell Grayhem you thought it was a weird idea?”
“It didn’t get bad until we got here and actually heard about everything.” I rub my forehead.
“Okay, well—” she draws a deep breath, and I know she’s working to calm herself down, “—just please be careful. I know you’re a badass, but holy shit. I can’t explain to you this feeling I have.”
As amused as I always am to hear her talk me up like that, I can’t muster much more than a weak smile this time. I just wish like hell I was there to touch her and make her feel better—make myself feel better.
“I’ll be careful, Marienne,” I promise softly. “We both will. And this really shouldn’t take long. We really are hoping to leave tomorrow or something.”
She makes a blubbery noise with her lips. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a…whatever.”
“I don’t mind. Just don’t run yourself insane. Think happy thoughts. Go kill your own Hellions with B.”
“Oh, we’ve been doing that,” she assures me. “We killed ten in two hours alone.”
“Christ,” I groan, sitting up again. “I wish I’d been there to see that.”
I’m relieved to hear her smiling when she says, “I’ll admit it was fun.”
“Keep doing it.” Then more seriously, “But don’t go back to Grove Lane, all right? Not for anything, not even the tire swing. And definitely not for the gateway. I don’t care how helpful a killing spree is for your nerves. Don’t go back.”
“I won’t. I promise.” She doesn’t sound the least bit disappointed by the directive.
“Thank you.”
“Mmhmm. So what’s it like in Dallas?”
“Not a speck of snow on the ground, and the people here are fucking terrible at driving.”
She laughs. “I guess the weather knows what it’s doing, then, huh? Snow would just make it worse.”
“Right?” I agree with my own laugh. “The whole city would be a car accident.”
“That sounds terri—aw, man.” Her voice drops lower. “Hellion alert.”
“Yeah? Where are you?”
“At Applebee’s with Beatrix. She’s been outside talking to Wes, so I’m sure she saw this bastard walk in.”
It’s less than willingly that I say, “Well, I’ll let you go, then. You’ve got work to do.” I remember too late that I wanted to voice those thoughts I was having before the meeting. Guess I’ll have to tell her later.
In kind, she says, “Yeah, you have work to do, too.” Then she reminds me, “Be careful.”
“I will.” Even though I know she’ll be fine with Beatrix, I add, “You be careful, too.”
“Oh, Gabe,” she sighs. “If there’s anyone who needs to watch their ass on our end, it’s this Hellion. He’s going to regret eyeballing that little kid in the ballerina tutu.”
That’s my girl.
Out loud, I say, “I’ll call you when I get back from this thing.”
“Okay.” She sounds like she wants to say something else, but ultimately, she just clears her throat and repeats, “Okay.”
“Okay,” I echo. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
I miss her voice the second I hang up.
Thankfully, I’m saved from that by a knocking on my door. I walk over and open it to see Wes.
“Hey, man,” he greets me, looking a little less stressed. I guess speaking with Beatrix made him feel better.
“Hey, what’s up? You ready to head out there?”
“Whenever you are. If you’re busy, you’ve still got maybe ten minutes left.”
“Nope. I’m good.” I make sure I’ve got everything I need on me, and then I step out into the hall.
Back in the conference room, we find that everyone has already returned from dinner. Reibek decides we’ll be okay to leave now, so we quickly check and double-check everything. Before long, we’re piling into three dark-colored vehicles and hitting the road to kill these Hellions.
I’m in a Civic that’s just like mine except this one is black. I’m riding in the backseat with Wes, and two Dallas guys are up front: Delaney driving and Thompson riding shotgun. They seem to be early thirties, maybe.
“Hey, man, change the station,” Thompson complains. “Fuck country music.”
“Dude, you live in Texas,” Delaney counters. “You’re in the wrong state to be hatin’ country music.”
“That’s the dumbest logic ever.”
“No, it ain’t.”
Thompson turns around to look at me and Wes beseechingly. “Seriously. This warbling shit about a woman wearing cowboy boots, or Staind?”
We vote, “Staind,” at the same time.
“Aha!” Thompson turns around and points at Delaney.
“Dude, they’re from Arkansas. They don’t count.”
“Bullshit!”
The guys seem nice enough—even Delaney with his country music—but all I can really think about is this attack we’re about to stage.
It really should be a flawless encounter. I mean, I have to admit Wes and Marienne were right about me: I was fighting those Hellions on Blossombranch with my bare hands just because I didn’t want to kill them and be done that fast. With all the things we’ve got going for us tonight, a quick and painless win is pretty much guaranteed.
Each of us has our own dagger and at least one full vial of our own red powder, but we’ve been given an additional dagger and more red powder, courtesy of a few guys who offered up the extra blood. The two El Paso guys really did bring guns, and one of the other Dallas guys used to do a lot of hunting with a bow, so he’s got that and some special Light blood arrows on him.
So I don’t know why the portentous feeling is plaguing me, but all it’s doing is taking up space in my head that I need for helpful things.
I decide I’m done being concerned about it. I mentally go over our plan once again, make sure my weapons haven’t disappeared into thin air, and start preparing myself for anything.
When I suspect we’re getting close to our destination, Delaney says, “Well, not that I’m fond of the idea, but I’m leavin’ my car key in the ignition while we’re out. That way, if anything unfavorable happens, we can get gone quicker.”
We all make noises of acknowledgement. I especially appreciate the information. I already knew I wouldn’t have problems driving the car if it comes to that because it’s just like mine, and knowing the key will be in it only further bolsters me.
“You guys got any questions?” he asks.
“Nope,” Thompson says.
Wes and I answer, “Nope,” too.
He doesn’t press us, doesn’t even ask to go over the plan again. I imagine it’s because he doesn’t actually care about those things. I personally don’t question a whole hell of a lot when I fight a Hellion. I figure out the differences between him and me, assess my surroundings, and go for it. These guys are probably the same way—I know Wes is, for sure.
So the rest of the drive passes in silence, except for the terrible music.
We’re a fair distance from the lights of the city when the car starts creeping down a lonely road that leads into deeper darkness. Delaney turns the headlights off before long, coloring everything around us black. I don’t have time to be concerned about his ability to determine where we’re going because a tiny metal building with a light above the door comes into view out of nowhere. We pull up in the shadows next to it, and the other two cars sneak up as we’re getting out.
Once we’re all together, Reibek says lowly, “Check your weapons.”
Rounds of bullets are examined. The whisper of daggers being unsheathed fills the air. Everything seems to be in order.
“All right, get in your groups and let’s get going.”
Wes and I rode here with Delaney and Thompson, but our attack group is a bit different. We’ll be with Delaney and May, one of the Defenders from El Paso. Thompson will be with Cates, Smith, and Torrance, the other El Paso guy. Reibek will be with Simon, the Dallas Defender with the bow.
After we’re clustered up, Delaney, Reibek, and Cates all turn on some very dim lanterns. Then our crowd splits apart, and we set off on foot.
My group goes through a field full of some kind of grass so tall it reaches my shoulders. I take care to absorb as many details of my surroundings as I can. To my left, the field is expansive and rippling in the wind. To my right is a forest, through which Reibek and Simon are sneaking. Behind me, in the direction of the cars, are faint city lights. I make a mental note to aim for those lights when it’s time to get back to the car.
No one speaks as we traverse the mile and a half from our meeting spot to that of the Hellions. It’s ideal for me. The night is cloudy, so I listen for thunder. I also listen for laughter, car tires, gunshots, or screams, since we know these Hellions have brought victims out here before. But I hear nothing—at least, not until we get closer to the spot, which is an abandoned metal farm building of some kind.
We start hearing voices, and I know they belong to the Hellions because some of them sound like ass. They seem to just be chatting with one another.
Per our strategy, the four of us get into a line and get low to the ground. Then we steal forward just enough to see the Hellions. The lights around the place allow me to count them. Fifteen are in the clearing, but some are coming and going from the building, so who knows how many aren’t in sight.
The plan is to start with our ranged attacks. To avoid the Hellions running off to hide, Simon is going to step out in plain sight to shoot his bow; he mentioned that that’ll help with his aim, anyway, versus trying to stay low and hidden. We expect the Hellions to charge him, and when they do, Torrance and May will keep firing their guns while the rest of us dash out and fight up close and personal.
The cue is a quick text sent to each leader. Delaney sends out his two, and when two come back to us, we know we’re good. “In five, May,” he tells our shooter.
Breathe.
My hand closes around my extra dagger.
Breathe.
I get ready to move.
A somewhat muted shot echoes through the air. Then one comes from our distant left, where the other group is. Two Hellions hit the ground, and then a third as an arrow zips into him.
Some Hellions run toward the gunshots, but most head toward the forest where Simon is.
“You two, go!” Delaney orders, and Wes and I bolt away.
I’m interested in the damage Simon is doing, but I don’t dare look. I set my sights on a tall Hellion racing that way on what look like hooves. When I’m close enough, I grind my own feet to a halt and fling the dagger at him. It spins and glints before it digs into his back, and he stops running to let loose a howl and strain an arm back to pull it out. But it’s a no-go for him, and by the time he spins around to see where the dagger came from, I’m upon him and already driving my own blade forward. One solid stab and another for good measure, and I’m done.
I yank both daggers out of him and don’t stand around to watch him crumble. I just turn to face the Hellion charging me from the left. I’ve sliced him down with the blades in no time.
Shots are still being fired. I go for a Hellion that takes an arrow to the thigh right as I’m getting to him. He manages a punch to my ribs, but I take it in stride and roundhouse kick him in the head, throw an uppercut at him, and then slit his exposed throat. I snatch the arrow up and whirl around to find my next target…and see that there really isn’t one.
We have kicked total ass.
I spot Wes swerving away from the fist of the Hellion he’s fighting. Then he lets loose a roundhouse kick of his own and finishes the Hellion off before he even hits the ground.
I head over to see what he thinks about our victory. He spots me and starts jogging my way, a grin forming on his face.
And then something slams powerfully against my entire backside—and my feet are taken completely off the ground.
I sail through the air like a leaf blown helplessly along by a breeze, losing sight of Wes as my vision blurs. My stomach seems to drop out of me and my mind explodes with confusion and shock. My limbs flail wildly, coming in contact with nothing but air. Under the sound of the wind in my ears, I hear faint shouts. I think one of them belongs to me.
Then I’m colliding with something unyielding, and the air is whooshing out of me with painful violence, and my vision is flashing black.
I’m aware of my body rolling a few times. When I come to a stop, I’m face-down on something cool and scratchy, slumped against it in exhaustion.
I feel like I’ve been hit by a speeding car.
It’s overwhelming. Dizzying.
My breaths are coming in short, pained gasps. My skin is stinging, my entire body aching, blood pounding, vision spotting, lungs starving for air…
…until, suddenly, all of that disappears and leaves me feeling…
…numb.
Weightless.
Just like…
…like death.
I feel almost as close to death as I did the night I was shot in my own house.
No. No, my mind slurs. I don’t want to die.
“You have all made a very foolish mistake,” a sonorous, menacing voice swells to life.
The words are eerily loud and fill the night and my head like its owner is standing right beside me.
The scary numb feeling ebbs away—oh, thank God. Thank God. But even though I’m elated to still be alive, I tune in to my skin crawling and my muscles twitching. The pain and dizziness come back and weigh me down, make me feel tired and nauseated. I realize I’m lying in and surrounded by the tall grass, the fragrance of which isn’t helping me any.
And what did that person just say?
What the hell is even going on?
“Although it is adorable,” the syllables glide slowly along the air, “that you thought you could march in like heroes to save the day—although it is amusing that you thought you had the upper hand, the power…it was most unwise of you to come here tonight. Here, you are not heroes. Against me, your power is useless.”
And what the hell does that mean?
The words tap frantically against my clouded mind, beg me to understand them. I try to replay them to myself, blinking sluggishly against the pain trying to dominate my attention.
After several long seconds, I think I begin to grasp their meaning: it sounds as if this person—this man—knows my comrades and I are gifted, and even though that should concern him, it doesn’t for some reason.
And that sends anxiety through me, lucidity hot on its heels.
Why wouldn’t he be afraid of us? We just killed all those Hellions. If he’s here with them, doesn’t that mean he’s like them? And if he’s like them, he should know we’re a threat to him…
…except I didn’t throw myself through the air just now.
Was he what picked me up and tossed me around like I was nothing? Like I wasn’t a person, a man, a fighter?
How could he have done that?
A wave of pain shudders through me. I moan and the sound is pathetic. My attempt to push myself up off the ground is even worse.
In his chilling voice, he drawls, “Yes, it is adorable and amusing, indeed. You have fought back against us with little trouble for many, many years, but the hour of your weakening approaches…and it is long overdue.”
Growing more unsettled by the second, I decide I really need to start trying to move. I use every ounce of strength in my body to roll over onto my back, gritting my teeth against the ache and disorientation. Once there’s open air in my face, I try to get my breathing right, and I find it’s much easier now. As my lungs drink in the oxygen, my mind feels a bit clearer yet.
Whoever this guy is, he definitely knows we’re Light. He knows what our purpose is. But ‘hour of weakening’…? Is he serious?
“Perhaps you think this cannot be,” he says like he knows my thoughts, “but you will not be so ignorant for very long. You have cut down a few of our soldiers, but there are more standing and more on the way. The armies we are amassing in your human world are only growing stronger, and they are chomping at the bit to flood your streets and escort you to your ends.”
O-fucking-kay, my mind claps nervously. Weapons. Where are my weapons?
One of my hands is lying out to my side and the other is across my stomach. I wiggle my fingers and clench my fists, and I realize they’re empty. My arms are heavy as I move them to pat at my jacket, which feels flat.
“Oh, fu….” I barely breathe out, closing my eyes in frustration.
I don’t have my weapons.
I don’t have anything.
But this man is obviously different from Hellions. Why do I even think having my dagger would help me at all?
Right. Yeah, this is good, I tell myself. I don’t need to waste time thinking about a fight. I need to think about everything else.
Something is clearly very, very wrong. I need to stay hidden, stay in one piece, because I have to find out just what this very wrong something is. That way, when I get out of here I can take the information with me—because, oh yes, I am getting out of here.
I have a girl to get back to.
Her face drifts into my mind. Perfect light blue eyes, soft black hair, a soul-searing smile—
“You are all so very small,” the dark, velvety voice cuts in, “so very weak, and clueless about what lurks on your doorstep.”
The words are unlike anything I’ve ever heard, and they worry me.
Marienne’s words from yesterday drift through my head like a prayer: ‘I don’t want to ask you to leave me alone…you are significant.’ And I remember us on that couch, her fingertips on my skin and my hand holding her leg across me while we kissed, both of us having just admitted the importance of what we have together.
“But we are almost ready to bust down the door, and when we are ready, we will announce our presence to your pathetic little world and take it from you.”
Trepidation is quickly overwhelming my pain.
But no matter what this person says about our deaths being around the corner, there’s no way I’m letting myself die here, in some goddamn Texas grass, while Marienne sits at home waiting for me to come back for her. I’m not going to leave her alone. Maybe I didn’t say it out loud to her after our first date, but I know I thought it to myself: I will always go back for her. And that’s all there is to it.
So I force my body into action.
I try to block out the aches and discomforts as I crawl at a snail’s pace toward the man’s voice so I can find out what the hell is happening. The wind blows cold, and I’m glad for it because it moves the grass, masks my shuffling through it.
“We will watch as you all try to run, and smile as you trip clumsily onto the ground, and laugh as you attempt to crawl away. You will be humiliated and terrified when you realize your resilient days are over, and we will enjoy every second of bending you until you break.”
It feels like ice-tipped fingers are scratching down my back.
From my left, I detect movement that has nothing to do with wind. It halts my advancement toward the voice, tenses every muscle in my body. I slide my gaze in that direction, and as the commotion creeps closer, I reach a hand into my jacket with the grasping hope that some red powder survived the fight I got into with the ground. I’ve got next to nothing, of course—just broken glass mixed in with the powder. Fuck.
I’m trying to decide if I should grab as much powder as I can anyway when a scratched-up but familiar face melts out of the grass.
Oh, thank God.
Wes’s expression alights with relief at the sight of me—and then with fear.
“We have to go now,” he mouths.
I point toward the voice, which is saying something else about how we won’t stand a chance against what’s coming. “Who is that?” I mouth back.
“I don’t know.”
“We have to look.”
Though he hesitates, he appears to want information in spite of his apprehension, like me. We proceed slowly and as silently as possible.
“Well, now, are none of you brave enough to face me?” the voice calls out mockingly. “You were all so eager for battle just minutes ago. I am but one man, and still you all cower from me? Have I scared you off so easily?” The laugh that leaves him is abysmal. “What warriors you are.”
As intent as I am, my heartbeat is going crazy with dread by the time I peek out of the grass.
I see two Hellions standing by the door to the building. One has what appear to be shards of glass jutting out along his arms and shoulders. The other has barbed wire wrapped around his torso and each of his limbs and even his head, and what flesh I can see is red and puckered.
Out in the middle of the very empty clearing stands a tall man with white skin, wide black eyes, and a gaping black mouth. He’s covered in red tattoos; they’re on his muscular arms and legs, his chiseled stomach and thick neck, his face and the top of his hairless head. The only scrap of clothing on him is a black loincloth-looking thing.
His appearance is frightening to me in a way the Hellions’ never have been. He looks almost normal compared to most of the monsters I’ve seen; indeed, he looks…separate from them. More dangerous than simply gruesome.
Those black eyes of his scan the forest. My stomach curls at the idea of them edging in our direction, but my thoughts on what I would do to protect myself are interrupted when he lifts a hand at the trees.
“Come to me,” he says solemnly. “Let us see what exactly you are made of.” After a moment: “Yes, there we are. Come to me.”
I could laugh. There’s no fucking way anyone is going out there to—
My twisted amusement flickers away as a figure drifts out from the woods, slow and awkward. After a few seconds, I realize it’s a man…a vaguely familiar man…Delaney.
I stare at him, shocked and horrified. Why is he doing what the enemy wants? Surely he’s not actually going to confront him after all of this? And why is he moving so strangely? Why isn’t he at least running or—?
Oh. My. God.
My eyes have stuck on the ground below Delaney’s boots—the ground he’s not touching. The ground that is several feet below him.
The fear I felt before is dull compared to what’s blasting through me now.
“Gabe,” Wes chokes out almost inaudibly.
I can’t speak.
That tattooed man is bringing Delaney to him against his will. Straight through the air. With…his mind?
So he is what sent me flying earlier.
Goddamn.
“And you,” he croons, holding up his other hand. My eyes snap to the forest, out of which someone else comes floating. Torrance.
We have to go, blares through my mind. No more hiding here. We really have to go.
Delaney’s body drifts to a stop in front of the tattooed man. In the light from the building, I can see his chest is heaving violently, his eyes are wide, and his face is slick with tears or sweat or both.
As I watch, his eyes start bulging and his face turns a different, darker color.
Now. Leave now.
His mouth opens in a silent scream, and one of his eyes spurts out of its socket. Then the other. My stomach rolls as his body arches mid-air, veins standing out against his purpling skin. I can see him trembling even from here.
A laugh like low thunder leaves the tattooed man.
My comrade continues to be bent in the wrong direction. His head approaches the heels of his feet inch by inch by inch—and then his body folds in half completely. A sickening crack echoes through the air and broken bone jabs out from his center, sending out a spray of dark liquid.
My mind goes blank.
When it comes back to me, I’m in the middle of rocketing through the grass, away from the clearing, my body bent low and my legs moving faster than I ever imagined they could.
My desperate thoughts urge them: Go. Go. Go. Go.
Wind whips past my ears. The sound of Delaney’s body snapping in two echoes in my mind. My feet pound the ground even harder and faster, trying to outrun the memory. The grass whistles as I fly through it. My lungs gasp angrily for air.
Yet I hear the monster laughing like he’s running right behind me.
Don’t catch me, I silently beg him.
On the heels of that thought is the command, Go faster. Don’t slow. Keep going. Don’t look back.
My body hates me. I don’t care. I dare to straighten up and push myself past what I thought were my limits until I feel like I’m going to blow up.
Don’t catch me.
My eyes zero in on the Dallas city lights in the distance. My point of reference.
Keep running! Go! You can make it! Go!
Don’t catch me. Don’t catch me. Don’t catch me. Don’t catch me! Don’t catch me!
The mile and a half is nothing. My body surges into the space we parked the cars in, and I can’t keep from crashing straight into the black Civic. I barely feel the impact. I roll down the frame until I get to the driver’s side door, both wondering how I got here so fast and bemoaning that it took so long.
I hear my name as I get behind the wheel. Deep relief bursts through me, because I know that voice. In a flat second, I’ve got the car started and Wes is in the passenger seat.
“Go!” he roars.
I go.
Fast.
Too fast.
Way too fast.
So fast it scares me.
But I don’t stop until we’re back in Dallas and there are lights everywhere and I’ve found a hiding spot I’m quite literally betting our lives on and no one is around to hear us explode into a million demands and obscenities and questions and shouts.
And then we call Grayhem.
*
Back at the Dallas Sanctum, chaos is ensuing.
Ten of us went out to the clearing. Six of us returned, by some miracle. Delaney is dead for sure and the others claim that Torrance is just as gone. Smith and Cates are uncertainties.
And not a single one of us has any idea what that tattooed man was all about.
“What the motherfuck was that?” Simon is shouting. “Why weren’t we prepared for that?”
“You’re asking the wrong people, Mitch!” Reibek shouts back. “We didn’t know anything about that! You know we’ve never seen that son of a bitch before!”
“Well, where could he have possibly come from if no one has seen him before? And what was he doing to our men? Was that magic?”
Thompson yells something indistinguishable from behind his hands, which are pressed to his face. It sounds obscene, whatever it is.
I say nothing. I got all of my freaking out over and done with in the car with Wes. He sits as quietly as I do, listening to our Texan colleagues ask questions no one has any real answers to.
A couple of people are arguing about the absurdity of the tattooed man using magic on Delaney and Torrance—and on the rest of us, for that matter, though that was harmless in comparison. Wes and I already agreed it had to have been some kind of Dark magic. There’s no other explanation for him holding two grown men off the ground like that, no other explanation for how Delaney was killed. And really, why is it such an irrational idea considering the kind of life we all live already?
Bartholomew has to do a lot of shouting to get everyone to quiet down.
Once the conference room is ringing with deafening silence, he looks at me and Wes, then at May.
“I have no words, men. I have absolutely no words for how sorry I am that you came that close to death. It’s true that we expected nothing but a group of Hellions to be there. But I hope to my bone marrow that you three will stick around a few more days and at least help us think of something to strike back with. You absolutely do not have to stay to carry out anything we come up with—I won’t ask for that much, won’t even think about it—but the brainpower would be invaluable.”
“That bastard killed my brother-in-law,” May croaks out. It’s all he manages because he bows his head and starts to cry, but we all know what he meant: ‘That bastard killed my brother-in-law, and I’ll do everything I can to help get revenge.’
Bartholomew nods and inhales deeply. I’m sure he’s thinking about Delaney, as well as the other two men of his who aren’t here. Then he looks at me and Wes again.
He and I look at each other.
I take the time to form my own opinion in my mind before I ask him hoarsely, “What do you think?”
His voice is just as worn-down as mine. “I think I miss my wife, and after the bullshit we just went through, the only place in the world I want to be is where I can touch her.” He clenches his jaw. “But I want to be able to keep her safe from whatever we saw out there…and will I be able to do that to my utmost ability if I don’t try to find out what exactly we’re up against?”
So he feels how I feel.
When we spoke to Grayhem on the phone, he told us our next move would be of our own choosing, not a directive. He heard us breaking down over what we saw. He understood our escape was nothing short of a miracle—that had we waited five more seconds, we might’ve been the next to die.
The three of us agree that whatever the tattooed man was on about was neither a joke nor close to being over, and we’d be morons to believe otherwise. We figure the things he said match up with what’s been happening: so many Hellions congregating in one place, the mounting violence in this city including the deaths of Light people like Em, and maybe even the feeling that something about this trip wasn’t right. Grayhem said any additional notes we can gather about the man and his unprecedented powers will only benefit us. Even if we stay just long enough to remember what all was said before he started crazy-murdering our men, writing the words down and bringing them home for observation will still be helpful.
As badly as I want to get the hell out of Dallas, I can’t deny my sense of responsibility. Even though I’m not used to being afraid of anything—and I am very afraid of what’s going on here—I know I can’t run from this. It’s true that my body overtook my mind back there and I bolted, but it’s different now. Now I’m at the Sanctum and I have room to think. And I need to do it.
I choose to be of as much use as I can stomach being.
I don’t want to go home and look Marienne in the face and tell her I brought nothing back with me to help keep her safe. I don’t want to have to tell her I ran away before I even tried to understand what went on in that clearing. I don’t want to curl up with her somewhere, all defeated and ignorant, hoping nothing that man said will come true and that nothing will find us.
No, I want to be standing upright, confident and as ready as I can be. Like always.
I set my jaw and give Wes a nod.
He nods back, then looks at Bartholomew again. “We’ll stay.”