We focus our efforts on the welvirs between him and us and get ourselves positioned under the tower. Sythius drops into the center of our group, draws a gun, and pushes to take his own defensive stance. But as we try to shift back toward the ship, the mutant wolves seem to figure out what we want and gather more densely between us and the BoltBurner.
“You can’t win!”
We all turn and look at the voice. And there, among the herd of welvirs, is a shielded man in gray and blue robes.
“Fucking hell,” Sythius rasps.
“Quris?” Menace groans in loud distaste. “Oh, come on!”
But as I stare at him this time, the headache changes. Prickles in my brain rise to a new level of ringing misery. I press a hand to my throbbing skull as a scream leaves me without my consent. The effort takes me to a knee.
Fracture gasps in pain. Sythius collapses, barely conscious. Menace’s screwed-up face appears not far away as he corrals the other two and fights through the blue pulses that leave me.
I catch myself in the dirt and look up. The welvirs have scattered back. Tens more have fallen. And across the yard is Quris, standing proud and smirking.
Menace rights his rifle beside me and braces it on a bent knee. “We have to take him out. I think he’s calling them.”
He killed my mother. Twice.
I grit my teeth and stand. “He’smine.”
“Sefi, don’t! That isn’t smart! He’s shielded!”
But I’m already charging for Quris, grabbing the blade from my chest, the one my mother gave me, and drawing in another breath.
Surprise fills Quris’ eyes. He steps back and lifts a handgun.
“Sefi!” Menace cries out for me. I can hear him not far behind. But it takes him a second longer to get his mass up to speed, and I’ve left before him. He’s not going to catch me or stop me. Nothing will this time. Not him, not a bullet, not a welvir.
My mother, her beautiful and kind and protective soul, is gone forever because of this man.
I draw in air to the depths of my lungs, leap off of a welvir’s body, and rear my mother’s blade up, igniting the blade.
Quris’s gun kicks. A fiery bullet punches through my shoulder just under my collarbone. I have two seconds before the pain will cut my strength in half. I only need one.
I belt out a scream with every ounce of effort I can muster. His shield ripples and stretches. Quris’ eyes widen. As my body presses against his quivering shield, it bursts.
Squeezing the blade tightly, I thrust it with everything I have left into his heart.
My body slams into his, knocking him back and to the ground.
I land on my feet but stumble for a couple of steps before the surge of pain from the bullet hits me. It tugs me forward, makes me curl around my injury, and brace my left arm. I cry out until anger covers the agony again.
Staggering to Quris’ body, I kick his gun aside and take a knee against his chest. I wrap a hand around the blade still in his body as he gasps and bleeds beneath me. I’m certain he’s the original. He’s older, with almost no augments, save for a few basic implants.
Blood and cold sweat soak my body. Dirt clings to my damp skin. But nothing and no one will take this moment from me.
“This is for my mother,” I snarl then twist the blade.
He shouts in misery, then starts laughing through his tears.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demand as Menace’s presence soothes my mind.
“I finally did it,” Quris chokes out, spitting blood.
“Did what?”
He inhales a raspy breath. “Created the perfect human soldier.”
