Shifting Fate (20 page)

My eyes stayed on his, all of us hanging in
the balance, and he only had two words. An order before he turned
to walk away, wholly unconcerned with the carnage that would
follow.

“
Do it.”

A rush of men attacked, bodies and bullets
suddenly filling the narrow space between the crowds, and I was
hit, knocked out of the way by two men colliding. Emily’s form was
struck mid-waist as one of Morgan’s men tried to lift her bodily.
They were too fast, it was too unnatural, and I looked up to see
Aern and Logan moving for Morgan.

They were the three most powerful men in the
room, but when Morgan’s fighters converged, they took Aern and
Logan with a strength that seemed wrong, relentless and unwavering.
Logan’s elbow jerked as he twisted one man’s head, threw two more
punches. He’d lost the use of his leg, but it was already healing,
the repair surely sapping his strength. Aern had made it farther,
closer to his brother, and Morgan stopped, turning to watch what
surely would be the last attempt Aern ever made.

Wesley and the others fought beside us,
tearing Emily free from Morgan’s men as she landed a blow or two of
her own. She didn’t have her knives, unprepared as we were, but she
wouldn’t need them for this. She would only need her hands.

My arms lifted, almost of their own accord,
and I was aware, in the back of my mind, that there were too many
of us here, that everyone would know.

There would be no more secrets. But it didn’t
matter now, it didn’t feel unsafe. It felt like the only
option.

My only choice.

The air moved around me, slowly at first, and
it gave the impression that time stood still. It grew, my gaze
finding Logan, still fighting as several men tore him down, and
Aern, both of them so close to our target, so close to Morgan. The
debris of fighting, bullet casings and broken glass, scraps of
nothing and everything, floated around me and the torrent rose,
widening to brush against everything in its path.

Emily was the first to see, her form still,
motionless in the stream that surrounded me, and then the others,
Brendan’s soldiers, Morgan’s, every single man that stood before
us. It was like a wave of consciousness, spreading through the
crowd, and the men on the opposite side did not only freeze. They
stepped back.

Chapter Twenty-two

Fire

It happened quickly, in the scheme of things,
but time seemed to crawl as I stepped forward among the current of
power enfolding me. I’d not made all my connections, not completed
the network, but I’d made enough, the ones that counted. It had
caused a hesitation, given us the seconds we needed. I could feel
the tide turn, crashing against itself before shifting back in our
direction. It was now. We were going to win.

Morgan was the first to come to his senses,
the moment of stunned silence all he needed to realize what it
meant. He’d known I was a shade, a shadow, but he hadn’t seen me
use the power, hadn’t thought I could do more than free him. My
gaze caught Emily’s, standing solidly beside me, and in the storm,
my voice sounded deadly. Lethal. “Break him.”

The room erupted into chaos as Logan ordered,
“Move!” the same instant Morgan opened his mouth to call out the
command, “Shoot her!” I thrust the air circling me toward Morgan,
his order meeting with a gale of power that threw him backwards,
knocked him off his feet, and seventy men converged upon the group,
bullets and fighting filling the spaces on either side. Wesley was
the first to go, his body in front of me before Logan’s words were
even out, and his shoulder swung back as he took a bullet intended
for either me or Emily.

But she was gone. She was running, her feet
moving swiftly through the few feet of space that was left from
Morgan’s position, dodging resolutely past the soldiers to her
target. She wasn’t just a girl. She was a warrior; she had been
trained for this.

She knew what she had to do, and she’d do it
at all cost. She leaned forward, ramming one attacker with her
shoulder, and spun, twisting away from another to move through the
crowd. Westley had fallen, but he was up again, and he ran with me,
both of us following in her wake, close behind as she reached her
target.

Morgan had scrambled back, was getting to his
feet, and Aern sprang at him, bashing his knee into the other man’s
face. But Morgan was strong, too. Of all of us, he’d had the most
training, and he rolled, tossing Aern as he worked to get a grip on
his brother’s skin ... to turn him. Shots rang out again, and Emily
swayed, but her steps didn’t falter. She was on him, feet and
elbows flying as the two of them struggled to pin Morgan down. His
crisp white shirt was suddenly open, the skin of his chest bare,
and Emily’s palms pressed flat against him with a force that pushed
him back, seemed to sear through him.

There was a scream. An utter roar.

And it was Morgan.

The room stilled again, the fighting
staggering and breaking as his shriek splintered the air, and his
men stopped to stare at the body below my sister’s palms. Aern sat
back, panting, as Wesley’s boots came to rest beside him. I stood,
staring down at Morgan’s face, all of us knowing that Emily had
done it, she’d taken his fate, torn his power away.

The anger hadn’t left him,
but Morgan was irrelevant now. Empty. Everything that had made him
important, powerful, frightening, was gone, drained from him, and I
realized that he had never been vital to the prophecy at all. He
didn’t
mean
anything. We’d simply needed him to get here, to break
ourselves free.

This had all been to force our hand. Because
the prophecy was bigger, far more significant than any of this.

Morgan’s chest heaved as he
stared at me, his eyes suddenly dull, void of anything
other
. He wanted me to
die, and yet, it made no difference anymore. He was
immaterial.

“
Leave him,” I told Emily.
“He’s nothing more than a commonblood now.” She let out a breath,
satisfied by my words, and stood as Wesley and two others gathered
him into their custody.

I scanned the room, hundreds of men who were
loyal to Morgan because of his sway watching us from the wreckage,
waiting for it to make sense. To decide.

We couldn’t make them
“unthink” their thoughts, couldn’t reverse what had been shoved
into their minds by Morgan, but as my eyes connected with Aern’s, I
knew there was something we could do, a way to give them
new
thoughts. To convince
them Morgan was no longer their leader.

I wet my lips, kneeling down before Aern to
take his hand. He was a dragon. He had the most powerful sway of
anyone, aside from Morgan, and I could give him the gift he needed,
the power to turn his own kind. Because I trusted him. “I’m sorry,”
I whispered, fully aware of what it would cost him, of what I was
setting into motion.

Aern sighed. “Let me guess,” he said, not
certain what I planned to do, but understanding by my expression
that he wasn’t going to like it, “It’s the only way.”

I laughed despite myself, and my fingers
trembled as the power moved through my palms. It took the last of
my strength, but I could see that it would be enough. That he could
turn them.

“
Tell them,” I whispered,
“show them it doesn’t matter.”

Emily caught me, her arms wrapping around me
as I gave everything that was left, and I focused on the scent of
her strawberry shampoo, not the blood that caked her shirt, not the
wound from a bullet that had grazed my shoulder. The fire was gone.
We had done it. Strong arms came around me, and I was lifted,
carried away beneath the flickering light of half-seen visions and
surgical lights.

When it was finally over, I woke, arm tender
beneath a patch of tape and gauze, swathed in a clean white blanket
in my bed.

Logan’s arms were around me. “Hi,” I croaked,
shifting to see him better, and he inched away, careful of my
injury.

His hand moved gingerly to my waist, rested
there as the corner of his mouth came up in greeting. “Hi.”

“
Are you all right?” I
asked, seeing that he was fully dressed, new jeans over the thigh
that had taken a hit, and he nodded, moving closer to prop his head
on an elbow. The room was dim, soft light from the washroom
throwing shadows across the canopy overhead. The halls were silent,
empty. It felt slightly hollow, as if something were missing, but
that something should never have been there.

That something had accompanied me my whole
life. It was the sense of impending disaster, the looming feeling
of dread.

Logan leaned forward, nose brushing my cheek
as he whispered, “You did it.”

He drew back to look at me, and I exhaled,
knowing it was finally over; Morgan was no longer a threat. Emily
was not going to be taken, the urgency of saving her gone. I’d
found the key, released our powers.

And then I smiled, remembering. The cold fire
hissing through my palms, the feel of the power, the air as it
moved around me. The satisfaction of seeing Morgan’s face. “It was
pretty impressive, wasn’t it?”

He stared at me, stock-still. Logan was
suddenly straight-faced, tone solemn, when he said, “That was the
most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”

I laughed, kissing him earnest, and asked,
“Does this mean we finally get those three days?”

“
Take as long as you want,”
Logan offered. And then he pursed his lips, considering the men and
women of the Seven Lines that were expecting their prophet, their
savior, to make an appearance. “But I’m pretty sure they’ll be
downstairs waiting for you the entire time.”

I groaned as I buried my face into his arm.
But when I drew back, the spark in Logan’s eyes freed me from every
other concern. That otherworldly glow was there; he wasn’t just a
man now. He was more, so much more.

“
Let them wait,” I said as I
moved to him.

I pressed a kiss to his pulse, and he lowered
his head, gripping my waist tighter as he brought his mouth over
mine. It was the closest I’d ever been to security. To home. Sure,
there was other stuff, but it was vague, far away. This was now.
Emily and I were safe. We would live.

And I had every intention of doing so.

###

Look for Book Three in the Descendants
Series

Coming 2014

Also From Melissa Wright

The Frey Saga

Frey, Pieces of Eight, Rise of the Seven

Visit her on the web at

www.melissa-wright.com