They scream in agony as they pass through … or perhaps as they completely dissolve into that gaping maw of foreign energy.
Unfortunately, Bellamy’s wild casting also catches Reck, shoving him as he scrambles to stay upright a few feet away from the SUV.
The SUV rocks, skidding sideways behind us.
Bellamy drops to the pavement, clearly unconscious. Possibly dead.
I don’t have time to check. Because while her push hasn’t touched me, it also hasn’t touched the Cataclysm. Though he looks amused by the attempt.
The four remaining berserkers stumble upright onto their clawed feet. The two nearest Reck target him while the other two lower their heads to charge toward me.
I gather the thickest ropes of the life force of everyone in the parking lot, holding those lines of energy loosely. Focusing on the berserkers’ threads of fate, I cinch my hands around that energy, pressing my own power to flood through those connections.
I note, a little detached, as Reck takes on the two other berserkers, continually shifting and spinning to keep the SUV protected at his back. And me, I suppose.
My hold on the berserkers’ threads firms. I flick all of them at once, as I would a lasso. Not that I’ve ever roped a horse or cattle before. My power thrums through those connections, cinching around the berserkers’ necks — as I’d earlier seen Bellamy’s final thread of fate roped around her own neck, slowly strangling her.
With that connection firmly forged, I yank all four of the berserkers to their knees. The pavement cracks under each of them.
I tug on those threads of fate again, toppling the berserkers over. Reclaiming the essence I infused into their threads, I start slowly dragging them by their necks toward me.
Even without direct guidance from the universe, I’m more steady, more connected to the Conduit power than I have ever been before.
Because I’ve claimed the intersection point?
Because of the soul bond with Rought and the gryphon?
But it still takes a moment for a flicker of disconcertion to cut through my focus.
I’m holding four ropes.
I only lassoed four.
Not five.
I’m not holding any of the Cataclysm’s threads?
Reck, bloodied and beaten from holding off two berserkers, lunges toward the nearest one. The half-human, half-beast assailant is still being slowly dragged toward me, writhing on his side and clawing at his throat. As if I’m actually strangling him.
In an impressive display of strength, Reck literally tears the head off the berserker. The grisly decapitation is the opposite of swift and smooth.
I stop actively pulling on the ropes of essence I’ve twisted around the other three berserkers. They still thrash and fight against me, but I hold them at bay in order to refocus my attention on the Cataclysm.
White dress shirt now soaked in dark-red blood and black suit half shredded, Reck stalks toward the next nearest berserker. The cu-sith shifter’s hands are clawed, and his facial features are slightly distended. He’s harnessing his beast without giving up any of the control by fully transforming. Also impressive.
Gaze riveted to me, the Cataclysm ignores his eldest children, both Reck and Bellamy. The dire awry is still crumpled on the pavement at my feet.
He’s … proud?
No. That’s what coveting looks like.
A thought of the cage Presh saw before she ran from the Cataclysm, before Bellamy possibly helped her escape Federation territory, slips through my mind.
I shove the thought, the mere flicker of an idea, away.
No one can cage the Conduit.
The universe wouldn’t allow it.
