Taking a deep breath, he ignored me. And, pendant clenched, he filled Marco’s weapon with scarcely enough ki to make my chains tingle. Ending it before my veins hummed with gold, then said, “That barrier was meant to protectmefromyou,Miss Tannovic.”
Startled, I blinked, rubbing the rough spot where my chains met a ring of scabs.
“Couldn’t take the risk that you’d infect me with your so-called darkness,” he continued, and returned the charged weapon, watching Marco tuck it into the back of his pants. “So I took steps to minimize the danger. You have no idea the havoc a Berserker can unleash.”
He met my eye. Light to dark. Both sides of the same exhausted whole united for an instant by unspoken understanding.
No, I hadn’t any idea what a Berserker could do, and worse…no oneknew what kind of horror would come from a ki-starved Empathfeedingsaid Berserker. Darkness unleashed, I’d take without discrimination, fuelinghimuntil there was nothing left. If it were just the soldiers of the Empire in my path, I wouldn’t hesitate to unleash that destruction.
As it was… I swallowed, hard, glancing at his pendant. “Asher… The Priestesses…”
His jaw flexed, and for a moment that inky gaze traced my face. And then, “You have enough for one shot, Marco.”
The soldier whirled, cigarette dangling from parted lips.
“If this doesn’t go our way, make it count and everything I own is yours, pup.”
“Asher—”
“I drew up the appropriate documents five years ago,” my bondmate said, left brow quirked. “It’s all been arranged. All you have to do is claim the glory for stopping a Berserker on the rampage and take care of my mum.”
“Fucksakes, old man!No!You can’t ask me to—”
“Thereisno one else. You’re the only one who will see it coming. Only one who even knows to look.”
Marco cursed, pushing a hand through messy short hair. Cursed again, dragging a breath of smoke into his lungs. When he turned back to his vigil, it was with stiff spine and a tiny jerk of his head.
Up and down. Once.
I exhaled, not unaffected.
“Ah, shit,” Marco growled, cracking his neck. “We’ve got crazy-hands aflutterin’. Time to go,” he said, at the same time the general began his countdown.
“Shouldn’tyoube armed?” I hissed, allowing my bonded to capture my bandaged fingers once more.
Asher shook his head. “It’ll provoke him. Make him think I don’t consider him a threat. Ready?”
Ready? To walk into an impossible situation hoping for an impossible outcome? It went against every instinct I possessed—stolen from Kas or otherwise. But I wouldn’t waste breath on such thoughts, merely sunk blunted claws into the back of his hand and reached for what was once my mother’s pendant. Without touching the stone or tempting the darkness, I flipped it over his shoulder, letting it hang between his shoulder blades. Out of sight, yet within reach.
Wordless, we turned to face our doom, stepping through the front door behind Marco. Hands raised, all three.
General Tilcot.
Purple in the face, he paced, sidearm dangling from his right hand. Flanked by several Priestesses carrying various medical supplies—none of which were brave enough to approach—Tilcot’s eyes were wild. Rimmed in red. Laughing when we emerged from the townhouse, he planted his boot into Sasha’s belly as she lay fetal in the dirt before him. Brandishing his weapon before a mixed crowd of civilians, Elites, and Priestesses alike.
“Ah, at last. The Golden Boy deigns to grace us with his presence. And here I thought you were a coward as well as a traitor.”
“Traitor? What’s this about, Harper?” the captain asked, showing the madman the whites of his palms. “I thought I’d been relieved of duty?”
Frantic, my gaze darted around the street, bouncing over the gathered faces, searching for another way, even as I clutched at Asher’s rough, raised fingers.
“Don’t play stupid,” the general spat, thrusting his weapon forward. “You owe the people an explanation about your girl.”
Asher’s laugh was a nervous, fragile thing, for all eyes were drawn to my face. “She’s a bit wild, I’ll admit that much. But with a little tempering, she’ll be a fine example of a—”
“She tried to kill me!” the general shouted, seizing a handful of Sasha’s silver-blonde locks. Dragging her up to her knees. “Isn’t that right, slut?”
But the Goddess’ chosen didn’t speak, merely raised her battered gaze to mine, both hands clutching the wrist of the man she’d betrayed everything to save. Wincing as he rattled her. It was the Glaith—sparkling in the sunlight on the back of her finger—that spoke volumes, though I hadn’t the capacity to understand.
