Page 62 of Legacy of Chaos

“No!”

Blood bubbled up, joining the crane operator’s as it dripped over the side of the dock.

As the seas churned and arrows and crossbow bolts flew, Stryke gathered Cyan in his arms and charged up the stairs. Below, the demons screamed as they attacked the platform. It appeared they couldn’t leave the water. The ones who breached the surface only did so for a moment, their skin steaming.

Consoled by that one small blessing, Stryke hurried to the med shack, a double-wide shipping container outfitted for basic medical care.

He shouldered open the door. “I need some help!”

Nothing. Of course. The doctor who had been stationed here had been killed. In his panic, he’d completely forgotten.

“Hold on, Cyan.”

“I’m okay,” she slurred. “Okay.”

“No, you’re not.” He placed her on the patient bed, and when she tried to sit up, he gently palmed her shoulder and pushed her back down.

“Oskar…” She wiped blood out of her eye. “Where is he?”

“He didn’t make it.” Stryke charged his gift and sent it into her. He couldn’t heal like Blade or his uncle Eidolon, but he could speed up her body’s natural abilities to make blood and stop bleeding. He also tweaked her system to control her pain, and with a sigh, she closed her eyes and lay back.

The door burst open, and Taran stood there, his face smeared with blood, one sleeve shredded by what must have been claws.

“Demons are scaling the supports. Hundreds of them. So far, they haven’t made it to the platform, but if they do, we’re not going to be able to take them all out. We’re outnumbered.”

That left only one option. “Then we evacuate.”

Taran shook his head. “Our escape pods are no match for those things.”

“We die if we stay here. If we can put down all the pods, maybe one of them has a chance of making it to safety.” He jerked his head toward the door. “At least prep for evacuation.”

“Yes, sir.” Taran took off.

“We’re not going to get to safety on the lifeboats,” she mumbled, sounding groggy. “You know that.”

“And we’re not safe here for much longer.”

“Come on, genius,” she said, her voice sounding stronger as he worked his healing magic. “Surely, you can come up with something. Something you missed. You developed the communications system. Maybe you can refigure it to use evil energy as a patch through the fog.”

“It doesn’t work that way. The fog is more than energy. It’s biological. Alive. Anything that can penetrate it would have to be…” He trailed off as a thought occurred to him. What was the date?

What was the fucking date? He’d have checked his comms but it had been destroyed along with the submersible, and his spare was in his quarters. Quickly and frantically, he darted around the room, searching for a calendar.

She sat up. “What? What is it?”

“The date,” he said hastily. “What’s the date?”

“Ah…the fifteenth.”

The fifteenth…okay, so the moon phase was…?

“The moon phase?” she asked.

Had he spoken out loud? Didn’t matter. He did about a million calculations in his head, and…holy shit.

No. It was impossible. He couldn’t be this lucky.

“Stryke?”

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