Page 22 of Legion

The blood drained from the human’s face in relief. “Of course, sir,” he almost-whispered. “Right away. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“I won’t. Thank you.”

I stepped back, and the doors slid shut, taking the human from my sight. I turned and made my way down the nearly empty halls, passing a few humans in business attire, until I found conference room C.

“Wait here,” I told my guards at the door. “I don’t want to be disturbed.” They nodded mutely before placing themselves on either side of the frame, hands clasped in front of them, and proceeded to look stern and intimidating. Opening the door, I stepped inside and closed it behind me.

Silence descended. The room was dim and cool, with stark white walls and no windows to the outside world. A long table surrounded by black leather chairs sat in the center of the carpet, and a single rectangular box had been placed atop it.

For a moment, I didn’t move, staring at the box sitting inconspicuously on the tabletop. It was unmarked and unremarkable. The first of several boxes that would stop here before continuing their journey to the Vault. I knew it had been packaged with utmost care, so that no sloppy mistake would reveal their contents. No one from the human world could guess what lay inside.

My stomach churned, and I shook myself angrily.Stop it, Dante, I told myself.You’re being ridiculous. There is nothing to fear.

Setting my jaw, I walked across the room to the table. A box cutter lay on one of the packages; I snatched it up and, without hesitation, slashed the blade down the center of the cardboard. Within the box was another, even smaller box, and I cut that one open, too.

As I pulled back the flaps, the smell of smoke and charred things wafted up, making my stomach turn again. The container was filled with clothes, sealed in plastic and neatly labeled, but the stench of smoke still clung to everything. The fabric was burned, singed and in tatters, but I knew that wasn’t enough reason for it to have been taken from the scene. Setting the bags on the table, I examined them carefully and finally saw why these pieces of clothing had been removed.

Not only were they singed, but several of them had been ripped apart. A few had puncture holes left from pointed fangs and talons, the fabric around the holes stained dark with blood. Evidence that not only had these clothes, and whoever had been wearing them, been burned, they had been savaged, as well.

Torn apart by dragons. My dragons. The vessels I sent to destroy the town.

I stared at the ravaged piles of fabric, forcing myself to acknowledge what had happened. Massive death and destruction, blood and pain and fear, by my hand. I hadn’t set the fires or torn into those humans myself, but I had given the order. The vessels were my tools, as surely as a gun or a blade, and I had used them for slaughter.

Sacrifice is necessary.

I knew that was true. I knew everything we did was for the good of our race. And the vessels were our most powerful force to date in the war with St. George. With them, we could finally start to turn the tide, strike a real blow against our ancient enemies. Numbers had always been our weakness, not enough bodies to fight back against the Order, and every loss we took was devastating to our entire race. The vessels would change that. Without them, we would still be heavily outnumbered and outgunned. Without them, St. George would still be pushing us toward extinction.

But there was a difference between sending the vessels into war with genocidal, highly trained soldiers who hated our kind and normal, everyday humans who didn’t even know about dragons. And there was a large distinction between attacking heavily armed and armored humans and those sleeping peacefully in their beds. That community hadn’t stood a chance. They hadn’t even known what hit them before they were dead.

What will Ember think of this? What will she think ofyou?

I smiled grimly. I knew what Ember would think. She would be horrified, appalled. She would call me all kinds of terrible names. And she would be right. I had chosen this course, for the good of our race and our people. She would never believe it, but I was still doing this for her. For all of us.

And though I would never admit it out loud, I was doing it for myself. I was almost there. I was closer to my goal than ever before, but I wasn’t there yet.Just one more step, I told myself. One more step to the top, and the thing I desired most.

Freedom.

Silently, I made note of everything in the box, recording it all carefully onto my tablet. More would be arriving soon—more containers full of burned clothes, blood, ashes and death. I would inspect them, as well, before they made their final journey to the Vault, but I had seen all I needed. Now I had to wait and trust the Elder Wyrm, as I always had. We would make our race powerful again. Together, we would not only bring our species back from the edge of extinction, we would make certain neither St. George nor any other humans ever threatened our survival again.

By any means necessary.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cataloging, meetings, phone calls and more meetings. I deliberately kept busy, using work as a shield against my own thoughts. The only annoying thing was the aura of fear and tension that continued to linger throughout the day, putting everyone around me on edge. Still, I remained past business hours, staying at my desk when most other employees had gone home. By the time I made the final call to Talon HQ and hung up the phone, the sun had set and the offices were empty.

With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair and looked at the clock on the wall, both relieved and dreading that the day was almost done. My two bodyguards hovered close, silent and protective, even though there was no one else around. I spared them a glance and frowned slightly, realizing I didn’t even know their names.

“Time to go, sir?” one of them asked.

I let out a long breath and stood, rubbing tired eyes. “Yes,” I answered simply. “Call for the car. Tell it to wait for us in the parking garage.”

“Of course, sir.”

We walked back through the empty building, down silent, deserted hallways, and took the elevator. The doors opened into the underground garage, mostly empty but for a few cars still parked in their reserved spaces. I spotted our vehicle and began a brisk walk toward it. Shadows closed around us, and my shoes knocked quietly against the concrete, echoing the sudden thud of my heart.

I held my breath, but we reached the car without incident, making me slump with relief. One bodyguard opened the passenger side door, and I slid into the backseat as the door closed behind me.

“Hello, Dante.”

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