“Get ready,” the high prince stated. “As I count down from ten, move away from each other.”
We’d run out of time.
Cyrus glanced at me, his resolve severe. “Whatever you must do to survive, do it. I don’t care what it is, Lady Pink. Survive,” he repeated.
“Same, sugar bear. Same.” Very well. Decision made. I glanced at Domino and nodded.We shall proceed.
Projecting no emotion, he waved his hand in a bid for me to do what needed doing.
Bottoms up.I hesitated a split second before tossing the piece of the Rock into my mouth and gulping. Only then, after it was done, did I realize I’d maybe kinda sorta, like, consumed part of a god. Did I regret it, though? Not even a little bit.
I waited, uncertain, nervous, and hopeful. One second passed. Two. No change, other than a slight twinge of yearning for what could’ve been. How long until something happened?
“Sheathe the guns. Withdraw a short sword and the injector,” Domino instructed.
Though I trembled, I obeyed, tightening my fingers around the hilts of each weapon.
Cyrus began the countdown. “Ten. Nine. Eight.”
With each new number, we increased the distance between us.
Our audience threw back their heads and released a chorus of shrieks and pops bubbling with anticipation.
“Tell me when you feel it,” Domino shouted over the noise.
Feelwhat?
“Five. Four. Three,” Cyrus continued.
The heat faded completely, leaving me frozen.
“One,” the high prince shouted and launched into action.
Perfect timing. The feeders launched into action, too, swarming us. Winslet and the other trainee didn’t hesitate. They fired off shot after shot as Cyrus and I struck down anyone within striking distance. In a constant stream of motion, I slashed, stabbed, and swung, pressing the button on my dagger when applicable, causing an explosion inside my victims, ending their lives. Muscles stretched and burned.
When I ran out of CO2, I replaced the dagger with my other short sword. My blades chopped and sliced through necks, shoulders, torsos, and ankles. Wherever I struck, destruction followed. Blood spurted from their severed arteries. War sounds laced the air. But no matter what we did, or how many we felled, the feeders kept coming. More and more and more. An unceasing stream. They swiped at us, snapped their teeth, and crowded us. But, still, I felt no different. Well, other than the eruption of sharp stings and pangs caused by fresh injuries.
The librarian flickered in and out of view, all but pawing at the ground, ready to be tagged into the fight.
Multiple feeders crashed into Cyrus, taking him down.
“No,” I screamed, slicing through one combatant after another. Fear overtook me, and there was no stopping it.
Cyrus fought his way free with few injuries and sprang to his feet, leaving dead feeders on the ground. Thank goodness. But ...
Seeing blood stream down his face did something to me. Cracked something wide open in my chest, releasing ... not a tide of fury but something like it. Something hotter. Stronger. The fear evaporated. Howdarethey?
It was then. That moment. Sparks ignited, spreading from my heart to my head until an inferno raged. The flames ate up everything in their path, and I no longer had to wonder what Domino had meant. “Now,” I called.
In a blink, the librarian whooshed through the horde of opponents and slammed into me. I gasped. He stayed put ... as if Ihostedhim?
The heat I’d experienced before was nothing compared to what I experienced now. I was enveloped. Engulfed and devoured. And yet, I remained perfectly safe. Because suddenly, Domino and I were connected, not two people, but one super being. His power flowed through my veins, my limbs, not overtaking me but fueling me. His instincts undergirded mine. We moved with perfect synchrony, gliding from cluster to cluster, eliminating multiple feeders at once.
Hot blood wet my clothes and skin as the bodies of my enemies fell, minus their heads or various parts. My speed astounded. My elegance thrilled. I dodged stray shots taken by the trainees, who had forgotten how to work as a team. I, however, predicted their actions and contorted accordingly while simultaneously dodging blows from the feeders.
Cyrus worked seamlessly with me. So smoothly, in fact, it was as if we’d trained together our entire lives. When one struck, the other defended. He tossed victims my way, and I finished them off. And yet, bit by bit, I began to lose sight of the world around me. Just for a fraction of a second at first, then another and another, until I stood inside a bedroom while Domino fought in Theirland.
Confused, I skimmed the room, noting the number of books stacked on the nightstand and desk. Tome upon tome crowded a bench at the foot of a large bed draped with a dark-blue comforter. No photos on the walls. The cutest black-and-white dog sat at my feet, peering up at me with a mix of adoration and confusion. A living, breathing dog rather than a meta.
