Jacen launched his mind at Ogden’s and found it barred to him, overwhelmed by that alien presence. It burrowed into the heart of Ogden’s vital functions, ripping them apart, devouring him from the inside with personal,gleefulcruelty. Jacen was too slow. He couldn’t stop it. He could only watch Ogden die, beating in helpless rage at the prison walls Turil made of his own mind.
Seth turned his sightless face toward Nines, still on her knees in shock. “Ninety-Nine.Syl Inissa.” He licked his lips, as though tasting every syllable. “I’ll save you the trouble of a long trip south: your family thinks you’re better off dead. I know this because I personally designed the social engineering programs we employ in the peninsula. When your parents discovered what you were, they would have called you a monster. They probablybeggedthe Church to take you.” Seth’s laugh chilled Jacen to the bone. “You belong to us. You always will. You thought your gods weak, andyou were wrong.”
Nines’ chest rose and fell, too quick. Her eyes were too wide. Jacen ripped himself back from Ogden’s dying mind—too late, it wastoo late—and threw everything he had into shielding Nines.
He left himself unguarded as Turil said, “Your teacher believed in you. He might be the only one who ever has. Now you can watch him die and know it was your fault.”
A psychic dagger plunged into Jacen’s brain. In twenty years of exorcisms, he had never experienced an attack like this. He clutched his temples in agony. A scream tore from his throat.
Someone finally shoved open the door, hard enough that it cracked against the stone wall. Ysira and several others barged into the cell,
shouting, arguing. They stopped in their tracks. Shock radiated out from their vulnerable minds.
“Sedative!” Jacen gasped. It was all he could do to shield his own vital functions. “Now!”
Ysira snatched a syringe from a slack-postured Disciple. She sprinted to Seth, skidding in the sand, and jammed the plunger into the side of his neck. She replaced his earplugs and gag without hesitation. Seconds passed. It might as well have been an eternity. Slowly, too slowly, Jacen’s head cleared. He was on all fours, sand between his fingers, in his hair. Tiny grains gritted between his teeth, mixing with the taste of blood. But he could breathe again. The presence had vanished.
“Nines,” he choked out.
She’d been knocked flat on her back. She levered herself up on trembling hands. She tried to speak, lips forming shapes that might have meantI’m fine,but her face was soaked with tears.
Hesaya was still seizing. Disciples swarmed around her and carried her out. Maybe they could stabilize her. Maybe she had a chance. Ogden, though . . . The old man lay very still. Jacen scrambled to his side.
Another consciousness slammed against his. Jacen flinched, panic constricting his chest, but—this one, he knew. It meant him no harm.
He saw a metal cube, clenched tight in a gloved hand. Ogden’s final words burned across his mind. They left an echo, a scorching afterimage against the back of Jacen’s eyelids:
NO HALF MEASURES.
39
LEGACY
JACEN
Through a haze of shock, Jacen made himself nod. It might have been the last thing Ogden ever saw.
Seconds later, Ysira reached the old man and felt his neck for a pulse. With a wrenching look, she locked Jacen’s gaze. For a moment, neither could speak.
When Ysira finally managed, each word had a weight to it, as though it caused her pain.“Did you get what you needed?”
Jacen understood. He said quietly, “Yes.”
Ysira reached over Ogden’s body to grip Jacen’s wrist, tight enough to bruise. Her voice broke as she whispered, “Do not let this be in vain.”
More people clogged the entrance. Urien fought his way to the front, stumbling in the sand beside Ogden. He made no sound as he reached for his friend. He seemed as if he might rip off his armor, to the void with the consequences, just to hold Ogden’s still, glassy-eyed face with his bare hands.
Neri stood on the threshold. Behind him, a body lay on the ground. One of the knights? It was difficult to tell. He no longerhad a head, the contents of his skull splattered across the floor. Neri’s black tunic was wet with gore, but he could only stare, frozen in horror, at Ogden.
Jacen stood and grabbed the nearest Disciple by the arm. “What happened?”
“Consecration marker,” the man stammered. “Under the scar. Squirmed under his skin like a worm, up his arm—” He had to stop. “Must’ve ripped right through him. Then his head—” He gestured helplessly at the mess.
Turil said they would kill one hundred every hour. This must be how.
Jacen was lightheaded, nauseous as he’d been as a drunk. He probably looked half-mad. He almost envied the Disciples their veils. He stormed out of the cell, whipping his head back and forth until he found Ged Semira.
“I know Ogden told you about the trackers,” Jacen spat. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell your knights to remove?—”
