He … he has to be shielding himself somehow. He knew my aunt, intimately. Could he have figured out a way to shield his essence from her and therefore from me?
But even if that’s the case, even if it’s just a shield or an innate ability I’ve never encountered, never even heard of, I’m just the human vessel for the Conduit power.
I’m not strong enough to take him in a physical fight.
I have no weapon that —
Utter terror streaks through me, clenching around my heart, wiping every thought but one from my mind.
I’m powerless against him.
I’m powerless against him.
I’m powerless against him.
Muta strikes, shoving off my shoulder so quickly and with such force that I stumble back.
The bushmaster moves in a blur, fangs already dripping with venom.
Just as quickly, the Cataclysm catches Muta under his broad, flat head, holding the snake at bay.
Red-edged eyes fix to mine. The Cataclysm curls his lip in a sneer. Then he deliberately squeezes his hand.
Muta writhes in his grip, helpless.
“Stop,” I whisper as energy visibly drains from the death god trapped in the body of a bushmaster. Centuries old, pressed into service by my mother moments before her own death, my lifelong companion is slowly being strangled to death. By an impossibility. “Please. He was only doing his duty, protecting me. I’ll send him away.”
“Playing with your food is beneath you, Conduit.” The Cataclysm focuses on me with deadly intent. “Show me you’re in control. Show me you can wield the power the universe stripped from your aunt, abandoning her to settle it on you. Be done with it, Zaya.”
Without looking away from him, from him slowly killing Muta — something I also would have thought impossible, even with Muta only the aspect of a god — I reach for and tear all the threads of fate from the remaining three berserkers, snipping their lives short. Though perhaps only by minutes had Reck continued to make his rounds.
The berserkers drop limply to the pavement.
All their unanchored energy rebounds, snapping back to me, lashing against me, against my soul. It hurts. I muffle a scream, swaying on my feet.
“Zaya!” Presh screams.
With her sight awakened, the young awry no doubt knows what I’ve done, as well as how it affects me on a soul-deep level. The SUV doors slam, and footfalls scramble behind me, but I don’t look to see who’s running or where.
“No!” Presh cries again. “Please. I’ll go. I’ll go with him!”
“Stop!” Reck grunts.
Muta goes limp, dangling from the Cataclysm’s hold. I have no idea if he’s dead or not. Because I’m already reaching for whatever threads I can still feel, still wield.
I grab hold of Presh, then DeVille, almost effortlessly. I get more of a sense of Reck than a hold, because we’re still not connected.
“Please,” I murmur, reaching a shaking hand for Muta and trying to cover what else I’m trying to wield. The others need to leave. I can’t focus for the fear of having them near.
Smirking, the Cataclysm drops the unmoving bushmaster. I scramble forward to catch him, wrapping my hand around Muta’s body a moment before the Cataclysm snags my wrist.
His discordant energy streaks up my arm.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
My own energy rises, lashing against his, rejecting it on a fundamental level.
Tension thrums through the Cataclysm. His jaw distends, teeth clenching, grinding.
