She yelled, “Don’t!”
Sen didn’t even turn around or move a muscle, but she knew he was the one who sent a wicked blast of power that knocked Storm against the apartment building. Bones cracked viciously when his body smashed against the bricks. A sickening sound rattled from his lungs as he slid down into a boneless heap.
Blood trickled from his mouth.
She lunged for him, screaming, “No!”
But her body halted in midair. Sen held her there for a minute, long enough to make her realize Storm’s chest hadn’t moved. He wasn’t breathing.
When the world started spinning, her arms and legs functioned again. She beat her fists in every direction, trying to hit Sen, whose laughter rolled through the swirling colors.
She called up her kinetics. Useless.
Storm couldn’t be dead.
That couldn’t be the last vision of him she’d carry with her to a lifetime of isolation. The Tribunal would listen to nothing she had to say. No provision for failure.
Oh, dear Goddess. Failure.
If she’d thought her heart couldn’t take another hit, she’d been wrong.
What would the Tribunal do to Brina?
What would that do to the Beladors?
THIRTY-FOUR
When the teleporting ended, Evalle ignored Sen, who stood next to her with arrogant pleasure. She barely noted the plush grass beneath her feet and black sky filled with shooting stars and two moons.
The most beautiful and deadly part of this parallel universe were the two gods and one goddess positioned on a shining gold dais this time. An arch of diamond-shaped sparkling lights curved above their heads.
Water dripped off Evalle’s nose and soaked her clothes. That might be why she couldn’t get her eyes to clear, but she doubted all of the water on her face was left over from being drenched.
Was Storm really gone?
Defeat devastated her. She wanted to curl up somewhere and hide, but not with Brina’s fate still in jeopardy.
Pele addressed Evalle. “You come before us with not one of the three escaped Alterants?”
“About those,” Evalle started in.
Ares interjected, “Four, counting the one you helped escape.”
Denying she’d played a role in Tristan’s escape would be futile. “Of the first three, one was killed by the Medb.”
No sympathy to be found on that dais.
“I used my last gift to keep them from being killed,andI destroyed all of the fog when I did. I saved millions of lives—”
Ares said, “You were told to deliver the Alterants. The fog had not reached the point of harming millions of lives—”
Evalle argued, “But I ran up against the Medb while trying to bring in the Alterants. Kizira took credit for the fog and said she planned to expand it across North America.”
“And,” Ares shouted to let her know she’d made a huge mistake by interrupting him, “we suspect that only the creator—who you say is the Medb—or someone associated with that pantheon could disperse the fog. If that is the case, you may now explain howyouwere able to wipe away a sentient fog that no deity in the VIPER coalition could affect.”
Trying to save the world had cast her as being in league with the Medb? She’d give the Tribunal credit. “I don’t know. It had to be your power, because I used the gift you gave me.”
Wrong suggestion. Every regal face on the dais hardened with insult.
