Page 108 of Worse Fates
“How long?” Rurik grounds out.
“Five minutes.”
Rurik and I curse.
“I know you guys wanna get in there,” Summer adds quickly, harsh but not unkindly. “But all of Jace’s plans so far have just been about getting Golden back. It’s Emma who’s the wildcard, she built a whole bloody army behind everyone’s back and she probably has Kai and Ramy in there too.”
I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t spare either of them a single thought.
I hate this, all of it.
What I want is to be back home with Golden, watching TV and listening to his commentary. I haven’t known him long enough to lose him, but then I’ll never be ready. When my other soulmates passed the loss was a physical knife stabbing into my heart, leaving an unhealing wound.
But the distance I’d created had allowed me to drag myself through the ages.
Golden, oh the pain of losing my beautiful boisterous mate, who laughs with his whole body and loves fiercely and grants me the privilege of his vulnerabilities. There would be no wound or healing, but utter and complete devastation.
“Lucero, we gotta make a choice,” Rurik says.
Unblinking, through fangs and with a resolve solid as diamond, I spit, “Begin your spell and take them all out.”
Summer is fast to act and edges closer to the warehouse, eyes already an eclipse. Her ringed fingers weavering and gathering up shadows into two twisting whirls, darkness pooling into her cupped palm.
“Everyone dies quickly. We don’t need to give them more power, especially Emma,” I say to Rurik.
“You think she’s going to be the most powerful?”
“I’m betting on it,” I snarl. “Emma was with him when Jace attacked. While I’m sure she wants revenge for Golden flushing her pills, I doubt she cares much about him. It’d been personal for Jace.”
“Maybe she cares for Jace.”
“Maybe. But she’s got a whole army in need of training, and a seasoned blood mage halted that to chase down Jace’s obsession?” The thought of what Jace wants to do to Golden sickens me. “I doubt it.”
Rurik doesn't argue, and with our plan set, I impatiently wait for Summer to summon her shadow bombs. Rurik paces up and down, my ears tuned to any changes or sounds of distress. I might’ve agreed to hold back, but if I get even the smallest sense that Golden is hurt, not even God could hold me back.
By the time Summer’s spell is ready, two shadowy orbs the size of tennis balls hover above her open palms, and my muscles throb from staying still.
“Let’s go,” Summer whispers, a sheen of sweat coating on her face.
I move forward like a shark slicing through water, Rurik close behind. We take our positions on either side of the wide double doors.
One nod at Rurik, and we kick the doors in. Metal crashes against the opposite wall, the echo shattering through the wide open space. The walls are tall and off-white, the large space stuffed with boxes that mages barely older than twenty carry. And soon the hushed voices explode into shouts. Some mages bolt, others freeze.
“What the fuck!” A voice screams just as Summer throws her balls of shadow.
But—that scream wasn’t for us.
It was for a bottle that careens over the mages head, the white cloth hanging out of it and dancing with flame, that smashes against the concrete floor to burst open like an overfilled balloon and spilling onto the floor to surge outward just as Summer’s shadow bombs head directly towards it.
For a split second the orbs hover over the rapidly increasing pool of fire, suspended like strange insects above a river painted in the colours of a setting sun.
Almost peaceful.
Before it implodes.
Fire and blood mages, mouths agape in silent screams, are sucked in. Spinning wildly toward the oscillating orbs like a hungry whirlpool.
The two spheres whirl at unfathomable speeds. But unlike before, they do not shrink into a tiny black dot. Instead, the fire feeds them, turning them into twin raging suns. Bodies burn inside, flesh melting, unheard screams forever lost until the orbs detonate, flinging fire and bodies outward.
