Staring into his clouded eyes, I knew he meant it. The pain was so great I couldn’t speak. He helped direct my free hand to press against the open wound. My palm was instantly slick with my own hot blood.
“I’ve often made the hard choices,” he said. “But not always the right ones. Please know how proud I was of you.” His eyes softened. “How proud of you Iam.”
His words penetrated through the agonizing pain. My life blood rushed out between my fingers, but I managed to squeeze his shoulder with my other hand. “Thank you,” I managed to get out. The copper taste of blood instantly flooded my mouth, dripping out the corners.
Ylang’s eyes widened a fraction before he was ripped from my grasp. He went flying across the street. He landed on the ground, several yards away with a hard crack. From the sound of impact, I knew Ylang was instantly dead.
Grief lanced through me as real as if it were a second blow from his knife. The man who had stolen me from my family and honed me into a tool to be used for power was gone forever. I had love in me for my adopted father, and the circumstances of our connection could not change that.
I fell to my knees. I tried to keep pressure on my wound, but I was so weak. Death would come quick.
A bare foot landed on the ground in front of me. Emma.
Slowly, I looked up at her. The demonic black pools of her eyes were fixed on me, dark gray veins traveled across her ashen face. I couldn’t help but think how beautiful she still looked. Perhaps I was nothing more than a delusional slave to her.
Emma’s hands grasped my face keeping me from crumpling to the ground entirely.
Rage, fear, and pain mixed on her face in a powerful torrent that reminded me of a wrathful goddess that had been wounded.
“You think you are allowed to die?” she asked in a normal volume, the many voices dullened to only a slight echo.
“You can’t stop me,” I said. Stopping to cough, I wiped my lips and my hand came away bright red.
Eyelids fluttering rapidly and mouth tightening as if her pride had been wounded, Emma reared back before slapping a hand on my chest. The pain of being stabbed was nothing compared to what she was doing to me. Lightening fried my every nerve ending, a continuous stream of fire engulfed me. My head fell back and I screamed what had to be my last because my body would fly apart any second. We were trapped there. I in my torment, and Emma in her fury. The black bled slowly bled from the edges of her eyes until only her irises were made of obsidian, red glinting at the center.
I was released from her hold, the pain subsided faster than my brain could register. I wasn’t dead. Touching my chest, my fingers came away bloody but there was no trace of a wound.
Emma regarded me with black eyes, as if calculating a complex problem. She had to gut me if she wanted the stone, but instead she saved me. The beast in front of me didn’t understand, but I did.
I grabbed Emma’s shoulders and pulled her into a kiss. Her mouth tasted like dust and death, but deep underneath I caught that hint of vanilla and cinnamon of the sunny woman I loved. Pushing my tongue into her mouth while the battle raged on around us, Emma hesitated then met the urgent kiss, warring with me on our own private battlefield.
I explained to everyone at Gran Rits’ dining table why we would win. I couldn’t hurt Emma, but she couldn’t stand for me to be hurt either. If we played this to our advantage we had a chance. A slim, but viable chance.
When I opened my eyes, Sophie had stepped into sight, several yards behind Emma. Gatsby, Leonidas, and Gregory hit their mark, creating a circle around us. They took a knee and held their hands up into triangles while Emma held up Merlin, her stuffed bunny. White light shot out of the rabbit and my Chevalier brothers joined her, directing their energies at Emma as they chanted. Their power hit Emma full on. Back arching, Emma’s mouth parted against mine in surprise.
“The Propheros and the Chevalier shall birth the solution,” Mika bellowed out the words. They tangled with shouts of the High Priestess, Violetta, Phillip, and a young man with a thick mustache from the Order of Tenebrae. It had taken three arduous hours, but Krystan had helped guide them to be open with sharing each piece until they could put the words about the Propheros in a discernable order that they could all get their weight behind.
“The Propheros sees Truth. The gate to the Stygian will open and unite our world. The Propheros will undergo the Reckoning.”
I didn’t let go of Emma, even as her body twisted and contorted. Instead my hands around her shoulders lit up as I wrapped her in my power as well. The gemstone warmed in my stomach and flooded me with added power.
I loved Emma.
I trusted her. She knew it would all come down to this and trusted me to do whatever needed to be done to complete our destiny. More than that, I trusted myself now and my power overwhelmed me until I felt I was riding shooting star.
Ripping her lips away from me, animalistic growls emanated from Emma’s throat as she continued to try to struggle. Sophie walked closer to us, and the Chevalier did so too. Then the people reciting the book drew near. We had her trapped.
I heard Phillip’s words ring out. “She will know the darkness to defeat darkness. Her sacrifice, our life. Her sacrifice, our life.”
The power intensified tenfold the Orders and the Chevalier worked together.
Sophie muttered, “Merlin heals, Merlin protects…” Over and over.
I heard Gregory’s voice behind me. “My daughter is saved. My daughter is saved.”
Gatsby whispered, “I can do this, I can do this.” Sweat covered his forehead as his face screwed up in concentration. Despite his words, I saw the energy he was projecting was stilted as if there was a block he was fighting against.
Leonidas said nothing, but his power continually poured from him in a steady stream.
