Page 65 of Legacy of Chaos

“I doubt it was intentional.” He frowned as the tingle of awareness became taut. Unsettling.

“Help.”

Help? This had to be a trick. Some demon messing with him. Stryke wouldn’t askanyonefor assistance, let alone Blade.

Mace’s grip tightened. “Hey, man. Tell us what’s going on.”

“I’m in trouble.”

Whatever it was, it was probably deserved. If it was even him. Blade sent a mental “fuck you” back.

A blast of irritation came through the connection. Okay, yeah, it was probably Stryke.

“The world is in danger. Tell Kynan. Need assistance.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Blade returned. “What’s going on?”

“A rip in the fabric between the hell and human realms resulted in a malevolent Shoulic ejection. We’re surrounded by a fog of evil and can’t get out.”

“Where are you?”

“Oil platform. Tell Kynan he can get the details from Kalis. Talk to Dakarai about the diffuser prototype and the runic amplifier. Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

The connection dropped, and a unique anguish, an emptiness he hadn’t experienced since the day Chaos died, made him sway. Scotty and Mace caught him as he went down and lowered him gently to the ancient tile flooring.

“Blade.” Scotty went down on her knees next to him. “Talk to me.”

“It’s like he died,” he rasped. “Maybe he did. Fuck. Just…fuck.”

There was so much rage inside him, so much pain, and maybe a lot of hate. But he didn’t wish Stryke dead. No, that bastard needed to live so he could spend his long life regretting what he’d done to their family when he cut them out of his life.

“What can we do?” Mace asked.

“We need to find him,” Blade said. “He said the world is in danger. Some sort of Sheoulic breach.”

“You’re sure it was him?”

“Yeah.”

“You think he’s telling the truth?”

“Why would he lie about something like this?”

Mace shrugged. “Why does he do half the shit he does?”

Good question.

“Did he say where he is?” Scotty asked.

Blade tapped his comms device and sent a NeuroLink request to Kynan. “Some kind of oil platform.”

He rubbed his chest as if that would fill the fresh hole put there by Stryke’s reappearance and disappearance. It felt as if someone had taken a hole punch to his soul.

Again.

And he was getting really fucking sick of it.

Chapter 15

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