The grounds were quiet as the sun continued to descend, inching lower, drawing night ever closer. The plan had multiple parts, roles, risks. It first consisted of saving as many of the pack as possible, which would simultaneously draw Kael and Nevaeh away from the true danger, and leave only the prophesied ones to face the Collector. And Malachi, who coolly refused to go with the rescue party.
I could understand why in some capacity. Malachi had a quiet calm around him. It had grown as the evening stretched on, and finally I recognized it as a him-or-me mentality. He had made his peace with tonight, whatever the ending would be. I wondered if he really cared who won, or if he'd feel relief either way, because it meant he had made his choice, because it meant he was his own, at least in some way. Whatever result the sun shone on by morning, he had chosen it and maybe that was comfort enough to him.
There's a peace in making a decision, in deciding to accept what will come, whatever it may be. The heavy clouds of 'when' or 'if' had finally blown past him, and something in his demeanor showed it. It made me think that maybe, to him, the wait had been the worst part. Battling with himself, burying what he wanted, living with the tension of his contradictions for decades.
Kael and Nevaeh would have their hands full with the Collector's followers without Malachi's help. But I couldn't worry about that. I had to trust they were enough, smart enough, good enough. I told myself they were, that they would make sure Ace's group got to safety, back to the Vault, and that then they would follow. I prayed they would follow. I convinced myself that Abby would be ready and waiting, ensuring that only those he wanted could come through his gate and into his home.
I lied to myself over and over again and said that the quivering shiver that moved in the back of my mind wasn't some Gift trying to warn me. It was just nerves, no, excitement. That's what I decided it was. Worry would do nothing for me now, except make me suffer twice. And anxiety and excitement are basically the same anyway. Besides, Kael and Nevaeh's mission wasn't the real test, getting Ace's pack away was just a happy distraction, a convenient way to remove the weaker members of our Clan from a fight that wasn't theirs. And that was all James and I could do to protect them. All they would let us do.
The plan against the Collector was straightforward. James and I would be the front line, Malachi would protect Ailech, and Ailech would draw as much life and power from the Collector as he could, weakening him.
Ailech and Malachi had shared a long look when our positions were decided upon. I could see my guardian trying to gather faith in Malachi. And I saw the change in his forest eyes as he decided to trust him, to quite literally put his life in the hands of someone who had been an enemy a matter of days, or hours ago, depending on what you believed. I chose to believe the former. Malachi saw the change in Ailech too, and dropped his animal eyes to the ground, a war of emotions swirling behind their sunset hue. But when Ailech clapped his hand on his shoulder with a casual 'my life is yours , psycho,' Malachi looked up solemnly, his eyes now black.
"I've got you."
His rumbling voice seemed to move through me so deeply, I wondered if there was power in his words, an oath of some kind. Something in the look they shared, their connection or unlikely friendship, or maybe just their honesty stretched behind my ribs painfully, splitting somewhere, constricting somewhere else, but I pushed it away along with countless other emotions I didn't have the time or luxury for.
Honestly, it didn't matter what emotions I buried or lies I told myself, because the truth was, even in my killing calm I was scared. Those seemingly opposed feelings somehow merged in me as we waited for James' father to arrive. I saw Kael's lips moving in silent prayer and heard Nevaeh's mind circling something similar. Even I found myself asking the Heavens, Angels, or whoever else might be watching to help our side. James' face was stone, unreadable as he stared into the woods behind the manor, perfectly still, like a guardian statue of our home. He didn't even seem to be breathing as he watched the world doubly through his eyes and his Sight, waiting and watching, listening for any disturbance marking his father's appearance.
I quietly wondered if the Angels we called on, the ones we prayed to and pulled from, had known James' father before he fell, or left, or was thrown out. I hoped that would push them to our side and not the opposite. I sent up a prayer of my own, half-request, half-threat. It wasn't exactly how I had been taught to pray in the many religious homes I had been shuffled through as a child, but it was true, honest. And that was all I could offer.
I promised Heaven that if they refused to step in now, to aid us in some way, and I survived, I would tear each and every one of them down, burn everything they knew to the ground. I would be the last thing each of their idle eyes would ever see. My Shift snapped and growled it's agreement. If the skies wouldn't be our ally, then I vowed they would be my enemy - and they should fear that possibility.
All too soon the plan sprung as the sun kissed the horizon and the sky deepened into pinks and purples, then navy and gray. I could feel my heart beating like a battering ram knocking against my breastbone, the blood rushing in my ears like a crashing waterfall, but still within myself I felt calm, focused, ready. My Shift dug it's claws into me and I released it, feeling the built up power wash over me, the Angel names I had called filling my veins, my mind.
This was my purpose, and I wouldn't let my family die. Not James, or Kael, or Nevaeh, or Ailech, not even Malachi.
Then the Collector appeared, silent and dark, just visible across the lawn. His power sizzled through the grounds, passing over and swallowing us up like poisoned air on an unseen wind. Behind him was a legion of Skia and Nephilim, but not a single Shifter or wolf. And before it even began, I realized how foolish we had been, I realized we had been tricked.
I felt slick fear wash Nevaeh and Kael's minds as they were faced with more Darklings than they had ever seen in one place. I felt the shock in Malachi's mind as he realized he had been lied to, and the quick-following horror that we would think he had betrayed us. And then I felt James' mind, his emotions, and even in my Shift I had to bite back the choked sound that tried to climb my throat.
There was fear there, in my Pair's mind, the familiar terror of his father I had felt in our nightmares, but the greatest emotion pouring from him was acceptance. Acceptance of defeat, acceptance of death, a crushing loss of losing me, losing his family - but acceptance of that as well. We hadn't even begun and he had already judged the odds, played out the scenarios, and definitively come to the conclusion that we would lose, die. That he had failed. That everything had been for nothing. And that he would lose in one night what took him years to create.
And just as I felt his despair begin to swallow me the same, as I felt it crawling up me like death, crushing me like the bloody mire from my first dreamed encounter of the Collector - fire ran through me. Not James' fire, not our connection or his Gift, not real flames at all, but something burning all the same.
Anger. Rage. And the blackest, deepest, darkest hatred I had ever felt filled me. It was consuming, primal, so rough and raw and powerful, it pushed every other emotion, every other thought, every other aspect of my being from me, until it was everything, the only thing. Until I was hatred, pure and rich, from beginning to end, through and through.
Malachi was shaking next to me, his fists balled, his jaw clenched, his whole body tightened and tensed as he gathered and offered up as much of his emotions as he could. He pulled from every memory he had of the man before us, every suppressed thought of revenge, of justice, every hidden and buried fantasy against him, every touch, every hurt, every second he had spent under his heel or his blade or his hand. He opened the floodgates of his pain and his past that had been building for decades, all the emotion he had never let out, and then he created more, building a fortress on top of the mountain of hatred he already had for his master, and he offered it all to me. His mind was laid bare, his memories, everything he was, all the damage - I saw it all, I knew it all, adding my own disgust and horror and hatred to Malachi's offering.
His eyes were stark against his light hair, shining black cut stones as they stared into mine, mirroring mine. He couldn't take away my fear, or James', he couldn't make me believe we stood a chance. But he could give me this, he could fill me with violence until it covered and drowned everything else. Just like he had been doing for himself for years. I understood why our abilities were called Gifts in that moment, as that was exactly what Malachi was giving me with his anger and his hate, the seemingly bottomless wells he had of both.
I felt my bloodlust rising, my second Shift growing in me until I thought I might split. But then it crashed over me and the world melted away. There was only him. Only my enemy, my one true enemy, my ultimate enemy, remained. I didn't hear the clashing of my Clan around me as they met whatever Darkling was nearest them. I didn't see where James was, or who was winning. I only saw his father, my shadowed eyes locked on his, memories from Malachi's mind, from my visions of James' childhood playing behind my eyelids.
I moved toward him, his feet planted as he watched my approach. I heard my own voice scream as I reached him. Still unaware of James or Malachi or Ailech. I was overflowing with anger, rage, hate, both my own and Malachi's, and I fell into it so deeply, into my Red Shift and beyond, nothing else mattered, maybe nothing else existed, just the red outline of the monster in front of me, my Shift painting him in glowing crimson, a locked target.
Then flesh met flesh and metal met metal. The Collector raised his arm, a gleaming brace stretching from his wrist up his forearm. My dagger glanced off it in a shower of sparks before we crashed and I danced with Death himself. The sky cracked as if our collision had cleaved the world, and my storm battled his electricity, mirroring our bodies far below.
Sorry it's been so long! But I'm working at it again! (currently writing from a treadmill lol before a day of work)
I'll go back and edit and clean and expand and improve after I FINISH this book (only a couple more chapters), so don't worry, quality will come - for now I'm just going for /something/ because I just gotta get it down or I never will.
And if I get too in my head about making it perfect before I post, it'll never get posted 😂
Thank you all for the support and patience. Your comments and messages keep me going 😉 I'll reply to all, scouts honor.
T