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“It will never come to that.”
“Nuri believes otherwise.”
He hawked and spat. The globule landed on the top of my thigh and began to dribble down the side of my leg. I didn't yet have the strength to do anything more than let it.
It said all that needed to be said.
“You will die in this place of darkness and creeping evil,” I continued. “And until Nuri sends your soul on to whatever particular hell awaits traitors such as yourself, it will be a daily reminder of the unthinking, ungiving hatred that has led you to betray not only our world, but those you once called friends.”
His body finally began to shift—shimmer—as he reached for his alternate form in a last ditch attempt to keep on fighting.
I raised the gun and shot him a final time. As his head disintegrated and his brains sprayed the ground around him, my strength finally fled and I fell backward.
I was unconscious before I hit the ground.
I had no idea how long I remained that way. The sun was high in the sky by the time I woke, but I had no idea if it was the same day or the next. While I doubted it was the latter, having never been shot with wooden bullets before now I had no idea how long it took for such a wound to heal.
I breathed deep, smelled death and corruption, and opened my eyes. Branna's broken body had slipped into rigor mortis, and the blood on his clothes and skin had dried. All of which meant I'd been out for at least four hours.
I glanced down at my shoulder and carefully touched the wound. It was sore—damn sore—and the wound was still red and angry looking. I gingerly raised my elbow and moved it around. The shoulder twinged but I otherwise had full movement.
Yet again I'd been lucky—if it had taken me any longer to remove the wooden bullet, I might have lost use of my arm.
I retrieved my weapons then pushed upright and walked over to Branna. For several minutes I simply stood there, staring at the man who'd been a flesh and blood representation of the hatred, fear, and utter intolerance that had become such a major player in the war. It might have started with a land grab but it had devolved into so much more.
It said a lot about Jonas's character that—despite having as many reasons to hate me—he'd managed to see beyond it all while Branna never could.
Jonas. Both he and the ghosts would be worried by my silence. I took in a deep breath and then raised a hand and activated the earpiece.
“What in Rhea has been happening?” he immediately said. “It's been six hours since—”
“Branna happened,” I cut in. “He was waiting within the rift's shield and damn near killed me.”
“Why didn’t you contact me immediately?”
“Because between taking care of Branna, being in a deep state of unconsciousness, and trying not to die, I was too damn busy.”
Jonas swore. “You'd better come back. We can do this another—”
“Leaving now only gives Dream the chance to either move this rift or to set another trap,” I said. “We can't risk either.”
“You can't afford to blow your Catherine identity, either, and you will if you fail to show up tonight.”
“I've still got at least six hours. That gives me time.”
“Not much, given the rifts drain so much from you.”
“Jonas, I'll be fine.”
He made a sound that was pure frustration. “Contact me again when you get on the other side of that thing—and that is an order.”
“I will, but not because you order it.”
“Fine,” he growled, and then the line went dead.
I knelt, rolled Branna over, and quickly patted him down. The small leather bag Bear had mentioned was tucked into his left pocket, but it was empty. There was little else to be found. If he'd intended to run after killing me, then he was doing so with little in the way of provisions.
I reloaded my gun and then glanced around for the thing he'd been holding in his other hand when he'd shot me. After a moment, I spotted it near the edge of the rift and walked across. The rift started to spin on its axis as I neared, and bands of jagged energy began to spit and strike its dark surface. The closer I got, the faster the rift spun, the more volatile those bands became. The force of them slashed at my body, leaving my arms and legs littered with bloody streaks. They would grab me if I got too much closer.
