Vincent
There was no way in hell I was getting left behind on this mission, and I made it pretty fucking clear to all parties involved. You were glowering at me from your corner of the tent while Aretha tried yet again to talk me out of it.
“I want to be the first face he sees,” I said, praying Papa was alive and coherent enough to recognize me.
“We’ll bring him here directly,” Aretha said, and I was shocked she wasn’t already on my side.
“I thought you wanted me to prove myself. We’re all warriors in this revolution. Isn’t that what you said?”
“I don’t know how to say this delicately…” Aretha began.
“Then just say it.”
“Your bloodline is more important than your ambition. The alliance between the tribes is tenuous, and it’s in all of our best interests if the Parousia remain alive.”
“I’m immortal. Why are you all acting like I’m a dainty flower?”
“There’s always the risk of capture,” you said, giving me a look that told me we’d been down this road before.
“I’m going,” I said as the final word, “so let’s stop wasting precious time arguing about it.”
And that was how we ended up in the sewers of Greece, in the stretch of land between where we’d anchored in the Port of Peiraias and the Imperium compound in Athens. We were kitted out in full armor—the modern kind with Kevlar vests, bullet-proof face shields, helmets, and oxygen masks, which was handy because I really didn’t want to have to smell the excrement of a million Grecians.
The sewers were a maze of twists and turns that reminded me of the mine, when we’d foolishly gone searching for Mater because I’d insisted upon it. And here you were with me again, insisting you walk ahead to protect me from any threats that might be lurking. And I was putting you in danger on a mission that was mostly at my insistence. This time, to save my father. As if sensing my mood, you turned and shot me an inquisitive look.
I gave you a thumbs up. It was hot as hell under the armor and the gear was heavy, but other than those minor discomforts, I was fine.
We were down in those sewers for hours, until at last, Tyre and his seaborn kin motioned with their flashlights to a ladder that led to the surface. They lowered their face masks, and, assuming it was safe to breathe, we did the same. Safe but not pleasant.
“This should get us into the compound,” he said, glancing up from his schematic of the building’s interior. “Above us used to be our baths, but the Imperium may have repurposed them.”
“Let’s go over the plan again,” Hyas said. I was surprised when he’d agreed to accompany us, since the mission in Aswan seemed like much more of a priority to the warborn.
Hyas laid out our plan of infiltration, which began with gassing the inhabitants, so they’d not fight back. One team would knock out the power, dismantling communications, while another team freed the prisoners, and yet another swept the perimeter. Once the facility was secure, Hyas would call upon warborn reinforcements to help defend the compound under the direction of the seaborn. My goal was singular: find Papa and bring him home safely. An image of him had been distributed beforehand, and everyone would be on the lookout. The remaining Imperium soldiers would return with us to Mater’s lands, willing or not.
With everyone on board, the seaborn replaced their masks and began mounting the stairs with Hyas right behind them. But when it was our turn, you didn’t budge.
“Henri?” I said as you turned toward me and removed your mask. I did the same.
“This is as far as we go,” you said soberly.
Knowing I had only a few seconds to react, I made a mad dash for the stairs, thinking I might be able to outrun you, but you grabbed me from behind in a big bear hug and carried me ten feet away.
“Put me down,” I demanded as I kicked and bucked in your arms.
“This is the plan,” you said with aggravating calm.
“Not my plan.”
“You’re too valuable to risk capture.”
“That’s bullshit,” I spat. Rage course through me, boosting my strength. I made for the ladder again, and this time when you grabbed my arm, I bit you. But my teeth hardly broke through the gloves you wore, probably Kevlar as well.
“Vincent,” you said, refusing to let go. A minute passed where I struggled against you, until at last, I relaxed in your hold and gave up any hope of freeing myself by force.
“Let me go,” I said again, more calmly this time.
“Are you going to be reasonable?”
