Darkening Chaos: Book Three of The Destroyer Trilogy (27 page)

After
checking to make sure the other teams are ready to breach the house, I nod to
Braden. He lets me take the lead, although I think it puts a little dent in his
pride to do it. I flash him a thankful smile to make up for it and slip through
the door. Braden follows, and the door clicks shut behind us. Each of the four
teams inside the house has a quadrant assigned to them, and a simple mission.
Clear the area of conscious individuals. I start forward, questing out with my
Vision and Concealment for potential threats. Guards, staff, servants, they all
end up unconscious and tied up in closets and such. The first floor is clear.

Our
new Cipher, Carlos, gave us a basic idea of the floor plan before we came here
tonight by discreetly breaking into the security feed very late at night a few
weeks ago, but we had no way of knowing where Drake would be before we showed
up. Now that Carlos has full access to the feed, he guides me through the house
to a set of stairs coming off a large banquet room. The others meet us there.
Milo and Daniel take up position at the base of the stairs without complaint,
for once, and the rest of us troop up the stairs slowly.

Dean
and Hope go to the right while Kayla, Hammond, and Lance turn left. Braden and
I follow them down the longer hallway and check each adjacent room for
stragglers. A few of the doors are locked, but since we don’t have time for
lock picking, and I couldn’t care less whether the locks get damaged, I simply
use my Naturalism to turn the locking mechanism into a blob of goo. We only
find two others wandering the upstairs, a young man who looks to be some kind
of assistant, and an older woman in the middle of changing a set of sheets.
Both are taken care of, and we meet up with Kayla and Hammond in front of a
large oak door.

This
was the one portion of the house Carlos couldn’t tell us anything about. All
the other rooms, even bedrooms, were set up with cameras—talk about giving out
a pervert, voyeur vibe—except this one. It is a huge chunk of the upstairs
floor, clearly not a bedroom, but has no security cameras at all. My guess is
that whatever Drake uses this room for, he doesn’t want evidence left behind
when he’s done. Not terribly encouraging, but we’re going in, anyway.

Dean
and Hope come around the corner, and I ask, “Did you find any other Guardians?”

He
shakes his head. “Just some guy reading in his room. Hope took care of him.”

I
shake my head. Hope is amazing. Her astonishing five talents, not to mention
her grandfather to teach her, makes her more valuable than most of the Ciphers,
most of whom are still struggling to figure out their new abilities. The only
talents she doesn’t have are Naturalism and Vision. I’m sure her grandfather
was glad for the absence of Vision. She still could have become a Guardian, but
at least she never would have been selected as a Seeker like he was.

“I
was expecting more resistance on this floor,” Hammond says, which instantly
makes me worry, because things never go this smoothly for me. “Especially if
this is where Drake’s stronghold is,” he continues. “He must know we’re here by
now since none of his guards are checking in with him. Whatever forces he has
left are in that room with him.”

“I
think you’re right, Hammond.” I know Drake’s Vision can’t have alerted him, but
aside from whatever noise we might have made, guys like Drake seem to have a
sixth sense for danger. I’m sure he knows we’re here. He’s waiting in there.
The lack of misfortune so far plagues my mind, making me wonder what awful
surprises he has in store for us.

“I
have no idea how many Guardians are going to be in there with him, but just
remember they don’t have the talents you do. Use your Speed and Strength, but
don’t depend on it completely. They’ve had a lot longer to train their talents
than you have. Use the attacks we’ve practiced, the ones they won’t be
expecting, and can’t defend against. Use whatever force you think is
necessary.”

That
last sentence comes out a little quieter. I don’t like having to issue a
command like that. It’s not that I’ve never killed anyone before, we all know
that’s not the case, but I still hate the idea of taking a life. When the choice
is one of the five people surrounding me or one of the Guardians, I don’t even
have to consider it. I hear the click of Braden’s 9mm chambering a round behind
me and flinch. It’s a reminder that the gun is his only protection, as well as
the fact that you don’t need talents to kill people. My own handgun is snug in
its holster on my ankle, just in case Drake is trickier than I expected. Although,
after watching him kill the Seeker who failed to stop us at the compound, I
think it’s a safe bet that anybody we run into in there will be pretty heavily
armored. Drake is much smarter than Blackwood.

“Okay,”
I say, taking a deep breath, “let’s get this over with. Everyone be careful and
make sure Drake stays alive long enough to answer some questions.”

It
only takes a quick check with my Naturalism to figure out the door isn’t even
locked. Everyone takes their positions. I yank the door open and drop to my
knee. The blast of talent-stealing energy hits me and steals my focus. One hand
drops to the ground to steady me as panic streaks through my veins. A second
later my hand is swept out from under me and my shoulder and head slap against
the hardwood floor. The scent of varnish fills my nostrils and makes my head
hurt even worse than it already did. It does help clear some of the haze from
my head, though. I can think clearly enough to know we’re all going to die if I
don’t do something fast.

Through
wavering vision, I can see Hope writhing on the ground just behind me, looking
more furious than usual. I worried Drake would pull something like what there
was in the dungeon, but this is so much worse. Someone’s grabs my shoulders and
starts dragging me away. A shot rings through the air and I drop back to the
floor. Braden. He has no talents. He’s perfectly fine! Maybe that thought
should make me hopeful, but it doesn’t. He can’t take on a room full of
Seekers. They’ll crush him under their heel. My eyes catch Hope’s again and I’m
shocked to see the clarity in them. Her fingers inch under her body, readying
to push her back up at the right moment.

I’m
such an idiot. Drake can’t steal talents, that’s my department. He’s only
disrupting them. My eyes close for a second. I focus all my energy on digging
up the fury and hate I harbor for this man. The fire of my emotions push me to
connect with Perception first, then the rest of my warbling talents. The
talents doubled by stealing Braden’s rebound the best. I’m nowhere near what I
should be, but it has to be enough. Searching the room, I spot Braden doing his
best to stay ahead of the armored fists and legs that will smash his body to
pieces. He’s a little too slow and gets clipped on the shoulder. The blow spins
him around, making him stumble back toward me. I meet his eyes and give one
simple command.

He
drops to his stomach and I leap up over him, my shoulder blasting the air out
of the nearest Seeker’s lungs, despite his body armor, and carrying us into the
group behind him. I can hear Hope rushing in after me, and I think the others are
as well, but I don’t stop to coordinate with them. The Seeker I landed on is
wheezing from a punctured lung. He won’t be getting back up. Shots sound all
over the room, but very few are doing any damage. Snapping my feet under me, I
spring up and send my heel into the next one’s nose. Blood gushes down his
face. The wound doesn’t stop him from lunging back at me. I let him come,
lifting my arms to catch his head as he tries to ram me. I use his own momentum
against him and snap his neck as I throw him to the ground.

A
booted foot slams into my side. I barely keep myself from falling over by
grabbing his ankle. I pull him forward and grip his head between my hands. My
weakened Spiritualism responds to my call and I thrust it into his body,
grabbing his own spirit and flinging it away. His body goes limp and falls to
the floor under the forced lapse into unconsciousness. I stumble back up and
immediately spot Braden still on his feet. I hold onto my relief for later and
grab another Seeker diving for me. He gets a dose of my Concealment, snapping a
globe of shielding around his head so he can’t see or hear anything. Taking him
down after that is child’s play.

Creative
uses of our talents, even as reduced as they are, let us slowly overcome the
surprised Seekers one by one until the last one is slammed into the ground.
Adrenaline pulls me back up quickly, faster than anyone else. Well, anyone but
Braden. I turn to find him pinning Drake to the ground with his knee. How did
he even manage to take Drake down? The guy looks fragile, sure, but he’s a Seeker!
There’s no way that should have happened. More important, though, is the muzzle
of the gun Braden’s shoving against Drake’s head. His finger starts to squeeze.

“Braden,
no!” I scream.

He
freezes, but doesn’t pull back. I can see the veins in his neck and head
pulsing against his skin, filled with more hatred than I ever expected to find
there. Everyone else in the room has stopped moving. Their eyes are all trained
on Braden. Only Dean quietly edges forward, ready to stop Braden if he doesn’t
get a hold of himself in time. Milo’s going to love this. I can hear the “I
told you so” already.

“Braden,
please. We need him. You know how much we need him,” I beg.

Braden’s
fingers tighten around the grip of the 9mm, and Lance takes another step
forward. I have no idea what Braden’s doing. He looks positively possessed,
glaring at Drake hard enough to eat right through his skull. Everyone in the
room is holding their breath. This whole operation, three months of work will
all be ruined if Braden pulls the trigger. I’m having such a hard time
breathing, I’m afraid I might pass out soon. My hands are shaking while the end
of the gun stays completely still on Drake’s head. My gaze slides down the
length of the gun and inadvertently finds Drake’s face. His blank expression
puzzles me.

He’s
literally about to die, and he looks like he might be reading the Sunday paper.
My distress makes it even harder to get a firm grip on my Perception, but I
toss it at Drake as soon as I have it in hand. Acceptance, superiority,
satisfaction, and a large dose of disbelief, they pool around him peacefully. Understanding
hits me. Drake wants this. He never expected to fail against me, but he did,
and death is preferable to falling into my hands. He wants Braden to kill him.

“Braden,
what did he say to you? What’s going on?” I ask.

Finally,
Braden’s eyes leave Drake’s head and snap up to mine. “He’s the one who made me
try to kill you.”

Chapter
22

Death House

I don’t understand. Braden
has seen Drake before, at his house and in the picture I took. He’s never
reacted like this. It’s not like he’s just now realizing that Drake is the one
who forced the Oath to kill me on him. He never told me about that, but I don’t
see why he’s freaking out, now. I’ve never seen him like this. I’m certain he’s
going to kill him if I don’t figure out a way to stop him. That’s not Braden,
though. Yes, he’ll kill to protect someone else, but he’s not vindictive or
eager to take lives. His reaction seems wildly out of character.

Drake’s
eyes close and his jaw tightens very slightly, like he’s concentrating on
something. What on earth is he … Braden. Understanding dawns like a flash of
white hot electric heat. “Braden, Drake’s manipulating you. Don’t do this,
please. He must have another talent. He must be a Spiritualist. He’s trying to
get you to kill him. He knows I’ll drag his secrets out of him. Drake wants you
to end his life before I get the information we need.”

“I
don’t care, Libby. He deserves to die,” Braden snaps.

“Maybe
so, but not yet. Braden, please. If you kill him, everything we’ve worked for
over the last few months will be for nothing. We need him,” I say, taking a
hesitant step forward. Braden doesn’t react, so I step closer. “If you kill
him, you’ll be giving him what he wants. He wants to take the easy way out,
Braden. Don’t let him have it.”

Braden’s
brow scrunches in confusion as he tries to pit what I’m saying against whatever
Drake is shoving into his head. His fingers loosen on the grip then tighten
again, pressing the muzzle against Drake’s head more firmly. Drake is so close
to getting what he wants. I can feel his satisfaction more clearly. He’s
ramping up Braden’s anger at him in order to get him to pull the trigger, but
if anger and revenge are what’s guiding Braden’s thoughts right now, I can use
that, too.

“Braden,”
I say calmly, “if you really want to punish Drake for what he did to you, don’t
kill him, give him to me. He’s not going to like what I’m going to do to him.
Remember when I found out about the prophecy from you? It wasn’t pleasant, but
I was being very careful with you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I won’t be
careful with Drake. I’ll push as hard as I have to. I’ll make him beg me to
kill him just to make the pain stop. He’ll wish he could give up every secret
he has to me by the end. If you want him to suffer, don’t give him a clean
death.”

Finally,
Braden pulls the gun back. I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s cut off by
Drake screaming out his frustration and throwing Braden off of him. Startled, I
don’t react fast enough. Drake lunges at Braden. Too fast to stop, Drake’s fist
cracks into Braden’s skull, dropping him like a jellyfish. His fingers scrabble
for the gun that fell out of Braden’s hand. I shake off my surprise and dive at
him. My hand knocks the gun away from both of us, but the movement costs me the
upper hand. Drake’s still empty hand curls back at me, locking around my
throat. I can hear the others moving in the room, coming to help, but they seem
to be moving in slow motion. I glance over at Braden and see him stir
sluggishly before turning back to my attacker, trying to reach the gun on my
ankle.