The MORE Trilogy (105 page)

Ava’s stomach turned, and she finally found her voice. “Emma, stop this,” she pleaded. “He’s using you. He’s going to kill him.
You’re
going to kill him.”

Emma’s eyes flickered open and she focused on Ava. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“You
can
. You have to fight him.”

Emma closed her eyes once more and tears trickled down her cheeks.

Borré simply continued his assault until blood began to drip from Andreas’ nose, and then his mouth.

Ava reached out to stop him, but Sloan brought her to her knees with a blast of excruciating pain. Her vision swam as she struggled to maintain consciousness.

Andreas gurgled and spat, gasping for breath against the torment. “Stop,” he whimpered. “Please.”

“Stop! Please!” Borré mimicked. “When it comes down to it, you’ve got nothing. No real power. None but what the people give you. You’re useless.”

As if to emphasize Borré’s last word, Andreas let out an agonized scream. The blood poured from his nose and mouth and puddled on the floor beneath his cheek. His eyes popped open, the whites turned red and inflamed, and his pupils blown wide. Finally, with a grisly shudder and one last rasping sigh, he stilled.

Borré stared down at him for a moment longer before he relaxed his fingers and smoothed his hand over Emma’s hair. He kissed her cheek. “Thank you, daughter,” he murmured against her skin, ignoring Emma’s shudder. “Now then,” he said, rubbing his hands together as he stepped over Andreas’ lifeless body. “Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” He seemed to notice Ava again and nodded at Sloan.

Ava drew a shaky breath as the pain eased.

Borré smiled widely. “Ah, yes. You were about to decide where your fate lies, dear daughter,” he said. “Will you follow in the footsteps of the illustrious Andreas?” He waved his hand toward the man’s body, grimacing distastefully. “Or will you join your family and claim your birthright?” His smile fell, his eyes hardened, and he turned his tone cold and unforgiving. “Last chance, Ava. I suggest you choose wisely.”

“Please, Ava,” Emma said, her voice shaky and pleading. “Please.”

Ava couldn’t tell what was happening in the hall, but she knew her time was up. There was only one choice. One solution. Bracing herself, she got to her feet and reached for her gift.

“Ava, no!” Emma whispered.

She knew what she had to do, and taking a deep fortifying breath, Ava unleashed the full force of her power toward Borré, binding him in shackles, his arms pressed tightly to his side, and slamming him up against the curved wall. She envisioned his internal organs, his heart pounding slow and steady in his chest. She pictured it slowing—

Pain slashed through her stomach, through her head, and fired every nerve ending as Sloan launched another barrage. She pushed her gift to the limit and kept her focus steadfastly locked on her father. Ava’s pendant burned against her skin as blood flowed from her nose, falling in constant drips to the toes of her shoes.

Sloan moved to her lungs, and she gasped for air and fought to keep her hold on Borré.

The door burst open and an ice ball flew across the room, smashing into Sloan’s skull.

Ava filled her lungs with a gulp of precious air as Sophie ran into the room, followed quickly by Isaiah.

“They’re coming!” he shouted, taking in the scene with wide eyes.

Ava fought but felt her gift slipping as she resisted the instinct to protect her father, her creator. Hurting him was hurting herself, but she had to keep going and battle through the agonizing pain cutting through her head, through her entire body.

“Don’t just stand there like an idiot,” Borré snarled at Emma through gritted teeth. “Stop her!”

Emma turned wide, tearful eyes on Ava then looked back at Borré.

“Emma,” Ava said, spitting out a mouthful of blood, “you don’t have to do this. We can stop him together.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Borré snarled. “End this,
now
!”

Ava was weakening, the pain in her head nearly unbearable. She couldn’t keep it up much longer. “He’s using you, Emma. Using us all. Think of what he’s done to Andreas, to our mothers, to so many . . . others.” She choked on blood and spat again. “We need to stop him.”

Borré slipped a few inches down the wall.

“Help me, please.”

A hand took hers, the familiar swell of Sophie’s power giving hers a boost.

Ava didn’t look away from Borré, but her hold tightened just a fraction, not a lot, but enough to buy her a few more seconds. She heard Sophie gasp from the pain.

“Emma, this isn’t you. You’re not a killer,” Ava pleaded. “I know you. You’re my sister—
our
sister. You don’t want to hurt anyone. Not really.”

“But—” Emma took a step toward her and hesitated, glancing at her father.

“I know he’s your father—the only father you’ve ever known,” Ava said. “But he’s wrong. I know you see it. He only wants power for himself.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Borré shouted.

Ava was vaguely aware of others in the room—Sloan struggling to his feet but standing frozen under Isaiah’s influence, Caleb and Tiernan, a band of Half-Breeds and Protectors, fireballs, wind, and fighting all around her—but she braced herself against the wind and lightning and focused on Borré, on Sophie’s hold keeping her together, on Emma.

“He won’t stop until he kills everyone who stands in his way.” Ava’s voice was weak so she cleared her throat, fighting to speak clearly. “He wouldn’t hesitate to turn on any of us. You’ve seen it.” She caught a flash of movement as Emma looked at Andreas. “I need you, Emma,” she whispered. “Help me.”

“Take her out!” Borré shrieked.

She winced at the heat of the fireball that came so close to her face only to be deflected at the last minute by a chunk of Sophie’s ice.

Emma swallowed hard and latched on to her hand, her gift flowing through Ava and lashing out toward Borré.

Ava almost sobbed at the brief respite Emma’s support afforded her. She was vaguely aware of her sister’s frantic voice.

“Help us!” Emma shouted over the din in the room. “You know she’s right. You know he doesn’t care about us!”

“Shut up, you ungrateful brat!” Borré staggered under the onslaught but fought to stand upright as he slid against the wall. “You were nothing until I brought you together. You
are
nothing without me!”

Even with Emma and Sophie’s support, Ava’s power slipped once more as the effort it took to keep him pinned became too much. The wind buffeted her, and she struggled against its power, her legs shaking with the effort it took to stay upright. She saw Evan out of the corner of her eye as he glanced at Borré and took a step toward her.

“Don’t you dare!” Borré snarled, his arms rigid, veins popping out along the tops of his hands as he fought Ava’s hold.

Evan swallowed but took another tentative step. “You said nobody would get hurt.”

“Don’t be an idiot! There is a risk of casualties in every revolution.”

“We’ll be next,” Ava said, and she almost didn’t recognize her own voice, dry and cracked. Her head swam. “He won’t stop.”

“You know he won’t, Evan.” Emma nudged closer to Ava, urging her to lean on her. “You’ve seen it.”

Evan took another step toward them, and Borré growled in frustration.

“Mara, stop your idiot brother before he ruins everything!”

But Mara was already on her feet and crossing the room.

Ava drew a deep, relieved breath at the vibrating energy, the power that flowed into her—
through
her—as Evan took Emma’s hand, and Mara took Sophie’s.

“Damn it! You are my children, and you
will
obey me!”

Ava’s knees buckled, but Sophie and Emma drew closer and wrapped their arms around her waist, supporting her weight. Then, instead of the power flowing in, it switched midstream, flowing
out
of Ava as Emma took a step forward, her eyes focused on their father.

She winced, and Ava knew the pain in her head, knew they were all feeling the same thing—the agony of turning against him.

Borré held Emma’s gaze, glaring at her angrily. “You will be punished for this,” he spat.

Emma lifted her chin, ignoring the blood dripping off it as she focused her power on him. She staggered.

“Emma?” Their roles switched as Ava supported her, feeding her, even though she was barely able to keep her own feet under her. Others joined their circle—Jae, Caleb, Tiernan, and Tyra—all sharing their power like a circuit feeding Emma’s gift. Her anger, her pain, raced through the circuit in return, echoing in Ava’s heart and mind.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ava shouted over the wind. “We can stop him now.”

“Nothing will stop him,” Emma mumbled. “Nothing but me.”

“Emma!”

Emma looked at her, eyes sad. “You’re not a killer,” she said. “I am.” She turned back on her father, gathering their power. It swept through Ava, gaining speed, until Emma let it out with an angry shout that shook the walls.

Ava barely drew a breath before darkness claimed her and she collapsed to the floor.

“Ava?” The quiet voice cut through the fog and darkness and sliced into her skull.

She winced and pressed her hands against her temples, mumbling something she hoped translated to “be quiet” or “leave me alone.” She couldn’t be sure because nothing seemed to be working properly.

“Ava, come on. You need to wake up.”

She tried to roll over but stopped immediately when the motion sent another stab of searing agony through her head. Slowly, she lowered her hands and opened her eyes a tiny sliver. Light was all she discerned at first—blinding, painful light—but she fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut again and blinked, willing her vision to clear. Eventually, Talia’s face came into focus.

“Hi there,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Ava mumbled, closing her eyes again.

Caleb? Where?

He took her hand in his, and she calmed.

“Well, let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?” Talia said, and Ava was absently aware of Talia touching her head, her palms warm and gentle against her scalp.

Slowly, the pain faded to a low throb, and Ava sighed in shaky relief. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Do you think you can sit up?”

Ava nodded slightly. Before she could attempt shifting her body again, a low thrum of mechanics hummed, and Ava’s head rose. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Talia standing to the right of her bed and Caleb to the left. “Am I in the hospital?” she asked. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Caleb’s voice was quiet but anxious.

“No, I . . . there was . . .” She closed her eyes and searched for the memories. “We were fighting, then Sophie . . . Emma—” Her eyes flew open. “Borré?”

“Dead,” Caleb said, squeezing her hand. “He’s gone, Ava.”

She nodded, the images floating back to settle in her head. Borré . . . Andreas . . . Max, Lucien, Isaiah, Sophie. Emma’s hand, so small and cold in hers.

Emma.

She sat up straight, ignoring the pain that shot through her body and focused behind her eyes. “Is Emma okay? She was trying to—”

“Ava,” Caleb’s voice cut through her as he lifted her hand to his lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.”

“We tried everything we could,” Talia said, her eyes tearing with sympathy.

“No, that’s not right,” Ava shook her head violently. “No, that can’t be right. We’re hard to kill. Tiernan said we were hard to kill.”

“But not impossible,” Talia murmured.

“I thought that about you,” Ava told Caleb. “You were shot and . . . and bleeding. You should have died, but they brought you back.” She turned on Talia. “You can bring her back. Get the other doctors. Between all of you, you can figure i—”

“It’s too late, Ava.” Talia shook her head. “From what we can determine, the need Borré placed in each of you for him, for his gift . . . it worked both ways. You needed him to ward off your symptoms, but harming him would have the opposite effect. It was his defense against any of you turning against him.”

“But—she saved me,” she whispered. “She saved us all.” Tears pricked at her eyes along with a wave of realization. “She knew what would happen. If I killed him, she knew what would happen. She took it on herself. She—”