“Artyom, listen,” I start to say, but he just shakes his head, lifting the rifle sights to his eyes.
“I have my orders.”
I wish I could say we move to Plan C at that point, but the truth is, all hell breaks loose as I yank out my weapon, and Artyom pushes the trigger, letting loose a blast of firepower.
TWENTY-NINE
KHARON
I rush the bastard, jerking the fool’s gun toward the ceiling as he releases his blast of bullets. Humans have become far more destructive in the last two hundred years. These rifles are much more powerful than the last time I was at war.
It still takes little effort to pluck it out of the man’s hands and smash him back into his comrades with another fist. I might have sworn long ago not to take any more humans to the other realm, but he just demonstrated that he’s more than happy to harm the one I love. I have no qualms about protecting her.
So as I push him back, I send him to the other realm and stamp toward the other men flooding in the double doors with their weapons of death raised. I don’t bother being quiet now but let out a roar as I raise all six of my arms to reach as many of them as possible and leap.
Down we go, their souls sent to the nether-realm before their bodies hit the floor. I see confusion in the eyes of the men still outside, watching their comrades be felled by an unseen force. Only one is wise enough to drop his weapon and turn and flee. The rest come bursting through the door, already shooting.
“Get down,” I shout over my shoulder to Ksenia. In my fury that they would hurt her, I thirst for their deaths. That darkness so long dormant inside me flares back to life with vengeance. I flare all six of my arms wide to make myself the biggest shield and take the next group to the nether-realm as quickly as the others before them.
Satisfaction yawns wide inside me. I spin when there’s a pile of unmoving men at my feet to see where my beloved is.
Only to find her nowhere. “Ksenia?” I roar, turning and springing toward where I last saw her.
“Dammit,” I hear her voice call from down a set of stairs. Relief hits like a tide. She escaped the bullets here, but more fear strikes at the thought of her going alone into unknown dangers below. I pounce down the stairs only to find her pounding on a door with a fist.
She turns to me, her face red. “The blueprints had it wrong. The saferoom is downhere, not in the center of the house. The paranoid bastard must have had alternate blueprints filed. Give me the backpack.”
“We should leave,” I say, chest heaving with adrenaline. “This did not go according to plan.”
She jogs over and unzips my backpack, quickly yanking out several explosive blocks. “That’s why there’s Plan C. Was there more trouble upstairs?”
I want to growl at her. This is not safe. I cannot stand her being where bullets fly. “One ran away.”
“And you didn’t chase him?” she snaps.
“I was more concerned with finding you.”
She breathes out as she places the charges she pulled from the backpack against the door. “That only means he’s going to run for help and bring back reinforcements.”
I did not think of that in the moment. “Even more reason to leave now. Revenge is not worth your life.”
“It just means we don’t have much time,” she mutters. “I’m off my game.” She shakes her head, and her eyes slice in my direction. “Can you go back upstairs and leave me to it? Watch in case others show up?”
My hackles rise. I will not leave her alone. There is danger here. What if she opens the door and another rifle waits, pointed at her on the other side?
“I will not leave you.”
“This isn’t working,” she snaps, her fingers shaking as she fiddles with the blasting caps. “I can’t focus with you here!”
I huff out, feeling her frustration in my chest and feeling the press of the time she spoke of.
“Move out of the way,” I say.
She shakes her head. “What are you talking about? I need to concentrate.” Then she curses, her fingers working expertly at the wires. Outside, I hear the wail of sirens. She is right; I made a mistake letting that man leave. I have imperiled her revenge. And also her life.
So I reach out, grasp her by her waist, and, though she screams at me angrily, I lift her bodily out of the way, placing her in the stairwell. “Stay,” I command.
“I’m not a dog!” she snaps.
