Darkening Chaos: Book Three of The Destroyer Trilogy (47 page)

“No,
you … I don’t,” Howe splutters. His eyes flash over to Braden. “But you killed
him! Why, if you already had your power?”

My
mind jumps back, to that moment when Braden’s blood started pouring over my
fingers.

Please
let this work, please let this work, is the only conscious thought in my head.
Some deeper part of me goes to work, my open hand pressing against the flesh I
just ripped open. Braden’s eyes bulge as he struggles for air that won’t come.
Only a fraction of a second has passed since the blade first pierced his skin,
but my power is already blasting through his body. Naturalism works in the
background of my mind, sealing up the cut I just made before Braden either
bleeds to death or suffocates. There are so many talents flaring among the
Guardians right now that no one will ever notice my own added to the mix.

I’ve
practiced healing cuts hundreds of times over the last couple months, but only
on myself. Seeing Braden’s blood is pure torment. I can barely focus enough to
finish as I feel its warmth slide over my skin, but I seal the wound just
enough to save his life. If anyone looks too closely they’ll see that the cut
is barely a quarter inch deep now, but they’re all too busy watching me. I just
need their attention for a few more seconds.

I
hesitate, ready to send one more blast of power through him. This is going to
hurt. My entire being is thrumming with power and concentration for a whole
different reason. Blood to blood contact. That was the key. It’s how you share
power, and it’s how you give it back. Spiritualism runs rampant first, zipping
down through the fragile link between us. It strengthens the Companion
connection and makes sending my Perception in after it a much easier task.

All
the times I scoured Braden for a way to give his talents back imprinted his
makeup on my soul. There is no searching this time. Perception blasts its way
into the empty pools begging to regain their missing power, but not to fill
them. Instead it wraps around the talent centers and encloses them in a
protective bubble with a direct route back to my own talents, ready for
Concealment to go to work. Two or three seconds have passed now. I have time.

I
try not to think at all as my Concealment grabs hold of my own talents and rips
away the stolen portion. The pain I felt a few hours ago is nothing compared to
this. My mouth stays clenched shut, but my soul screams in torment. It takes
all my effort, more power than I have ever held before, to tear away a part of
myself and hurl it back at Braden. My agony starts to ebb, but as the power
hits Braden his whole body jerks under the force. Through the link, I can feel
him crying out at the torture I am putting him through. My expression crumbles
and tears waterfall down my cheeks. I can barely focus enough to finish, to
cram every last bit of power into him that I can, before breaking the link and
dropping to the ground along with him.

I
had told Braden to play dead as soon as I was finished, but it turns out I
didn’t need to. Neither of us could have stayed standing if our lives had
depended on it. But in all reality, our lives depended on doing just what did,
collapsing. Braden in mock death. Me in spirit crushing defeat. Howe swallowed
every bit of it without a second thought.

I
glance down at my left wrist. Satisfaction runs through me as Howe sees only
one stolen diktat remaining on my wrist. No one but me noticed the band of
slowly blackening diktats on Braden’s left wrist when they broke us apart. I’m
not sure Braden noticed at the time, either, but as soon as he recovers enough
to tap his talents he is going to find double the power he once had. It’s a
small thank you for going along with me on this. I would have given him all of
Drake’s stolen talents, but Braden never had Vision to begin with. Now, he’s
going to have more power than he knows what to do with.

But
we aren’t done yet. Not even close.

I
look up from my wrist and meet Howe’s confused gaze. “I killed Braden? Are you
sure?”

That’s
Braden’s cue. His first movements are slow, stiff. Every eye in the world
watches his blood covered body rise from assumed death to glorious rebirth. No
Guardian intercepts him. All they can do is stare, knowing full well that they
are most likely watching their hopes die.

I
can barely breathe as Braden’s fingers move from his Guardian emblem to his
forehead and heart without anyone trying to stop him.

He
smiles as his finger rest above his heart, completing the Oath he wanted to
give me so long ago. His power comes rushing across our Companion link and
burrows into me. My body literally tingles with power, flecks of energy
bursting around me like a glorious halo visible to everyone. Howe sags against
my grip.

“Choose,”
I demand of him.

I
almost think he’s going to give in. Then he pulls himself back up and shakes
his head firmly. “No. You’re still just one person,” he says quietly despite
the absoluteness of his words. “You can’t win against us. We did what the
prophecy said. You can’t win. You can’t beat us.”

I
pull his face even with mine and say, “Watch me.”

***

I have just declared war,
and everyone in the world heard me do it. Nobody waits around to second guess
what is going on. They just act. The massive amounts of Guardians waiting out
of view start pouring toward me. In the split second it takes me to analyze the
situation, Howe makes his move. He jerks himself out of my grip and a shield of
Concealment drops over him, taking him right from view. It’s the best shield
I’ve ever seen. Better than Hammond could ever hope to create. Howe’s power and
ability is stunning. But it’s nothing compared to mine.

Concealment
works both ways. Tapping my own power, I see right through his shield and track
his movements as he sprints away from me like the coward he is. I pick up on
the unique power signatures of my friends and Ciphers as they take the field
with me. I can’t feel any of them as strongly as I feel Braden, but I know
they’re there. There are thousands of Guardians closing in on me, but I keep my
focus pinned to Howe and take off after him.

It
doesn’t take me very long to catch up to him. He turns just as I lunge for him,
and I barely avoid the blade poised to dig into my chest by rolling to the
side. As I fall, I grab his wrist and pull him down with me. He’s still trying
to keep hold of his blade in hopes of using it on me. Midway through our fall,
I tap my Strength, quadrupled by my own unlocked talent, Braden’s double dose,
and the bonus of the Companion link and Guardian Oath working together, and
snap his wrist in half.

He
screams out in pain as his crushed bones slap against the ground. His own
Strength is useless against mine. He pulls hard on his Speed to try and dart
out from under me. The shadow of Vision tapping swirling around him does no
good, because my Concealment hides my future from him. Knowing his talents are
useless, his hand darts to his gun and whips it out in a blur of motion. Three
shots ring through the air so fast the concussions of each shot smash together
into one devastating boom. I don’t even get the chance to react before I am
thrown to the ground. Through the blur of falling, I catch sight of Milo.  

I
can only watch as bullets careen toward his chest amid the noise of battle. He
doesn’t move out of the way. I panic, but he simply meets Howe’s eyes and taps his
Naturalism. The lead superheats at his command and dribbles to the ground
before they close even half the distance. Howe’s black pupils engulf the blue
of his eyes entirely as it finally sinks in that he is about to die.

One
small turn of Milo’s head gives me access to his eyes, to his soul. I can see
the regret, the self-loathing, the honest desire for penance that can never be achieved.
He says nothing, and neither do I. Instead, he turns back to Howe and gathers
his power.

Milo
knows how to kill people mercifully. It would take little effort for him to
send his Naturalism into Howe’s body and will it to stop beating. He could make
Howe’s death painless and peaceful if he really wanted to. He could repay the
evil this man has wrought on the world with mercy. The immensity of his power
gathering around him is a clear indicator that this won’t be a merciful death. I
could stop him. His hesitation gives me the option.

But
I don’t accept.

Instead,
I take over.

I
stand up and step toward Howe. Milo moves aside in deference, but doesn’t
release his power. Howe is too terrified to even move. Every combustible
molecule in the air around me rushes to my hands. The air shimmers as the elements
congeal between my outstretched fingers. With one simple push of power, the
ball ignites and I hurl it at Howe. There is no screaming, no squirming, no
flames to put out. There is only ash scattered on the ground.

One
psychotic Guardian down, several million to go.

I
look away, and find Milo. I can see the pleading in his eyes. He wants me to
say something. The anger I just spent on Howe rebuilds and fuses my lips shut.
I don’t know if he expects my thanks, or just an acknowledgement of his
presence, but I can’t give him either right now. Turning away, my attention
flicks behind me to where the main battle is raging.

The
sounds coming from the Great Lawn stagger me. Screams, blasts of energy, agony,
breaking, total mayhem races through the air. I take a second to open up my
talents before moving forward. I can feel the energy swirling around me.
Talents are rushing through the air and colliding with their targets like
kamikaze insects. Every talent is represented, but there is no overpowering
surge of Spiritualism like there would be if the Dorotabos had shown up.

Where
are they? Howe wouldn’t have waited to bring them in. His faith in the prophecy
and his own planning didn’t stretch that far. He should have called his twisted
army in right away. I can’t see anything to do but head back into the fray and
wait for them to arrive. I start to tap my Speed when Milo’s raw voice cries
out in panic.

Chapter
37

Darkening Chaos

Zombies are always so slow
in the movies. Brainless hunks of meat roaming around in search of something to
nibble on. Dorotabos, on the other hand, are fast. Really, really fast. And completely
single-minded. Their glazed eyes are focused on nothing but me as they barrel forward.
In the second it takes for my mouth to pop open in shock, they close half the
distance between us.

I’ve
done a lot of stupid things in my life, but this isn’t one of them. I spin on
my heel, grab Milo, and run for my life. I’m not exactly sure how much my power
has increased since unlocking my full talents and combining them with Braden.
Maybe it’s more than the six-fold power humming through the Dorotabos. Maybe
it’s not. I’m not interested in finding out just yet.

A
few strides into my adrenaline fueled run, Milo stumbles, completely incapable
of keeping up with me. I shoot him an extremely irritated look as I yank him
under my arm and pick up speed. If irony were a person, she’d be laughing her
head off right now. She would be the only one, though. I risk a glance behind
me to gauge how much time I have before the Dorotabos catch up to me. I’m
pleasantly surprised when I see that I’ve actually gained some ground on them.

Until
Milo manages to get a foot back on the ground and pitches us both sideways,
that is. At the speed I was travelling, we slam into the ground and my breath
lurches out of my body. I handle the impact better than Milo and pin him to the
ground in single-minded fury. Adrenaline seems to be doing my thinking, because
my blade is on its way to Milo’s throat before I can even process his newest
betrayal. I probably would have killed him if not for the streak of lightning
plowing into the ground five feet away from us. Right where we had been a few
seconds earlier.

Throwing
him an angry glare, regardless, I haul us both up off the ground and leap back
into a sprint. The Dorotabos are less than one hundred feet away. I can hear
the sounds of more lightning and fire balls blasting away chunks of earth.
Almost as loud are the battle cries and screams of pain and death flying
through the air. I just pray none of those voices belong to my friends as I
dash into the thick of it.

The
conglomeration of friends and enemies slow me enough that I can get rid of Milo.
My rough shove away from me makes him stumble for a moment before he catches
his balance. His frustration shows in his expression. He deserves a lot worse.
I’m more focused on judging the tide of the battle as I shove my way through to
the center than I am on him. I recognize a few faces of the dead, but more than
anything I see Guardians lying in their own pooling blood. It by no means says I’m
on my way to a sure victory, not with the Dorotabos nipping at my heels, but it’s
an encouraging sight.

Milo
pushes back to my side suddenly. His eyes aren’t on me, though. They’re
searching the faces of the dead littering the ground. “Celia’s fine,” I say, “I
can feel her using her power up ahead somewhere.” He grunts and picks up his
speed. I don’t know that he wants to rush back to his little sister’s arms. She’s
just as likely to punch him in the mouth as hug him. Oh well.