Page 5 of Descent

Her hands blur into her coat, drawing her twin Desert Eagles.

Each gun rings out three times. Her shots are perfect. Except for one.

An automatic rifle crackles.

My head snaps to the side, ears thrumming with concussive pressure. Something is wrong with my arms, my legs.

All I can do is watch as Artemis jerks, catching the low wall at the back of her knees, her eyes widening in shock. At the pain of the bullet in her chest. At the open air behind her as her hands fling back to brace, finding nothing.

And she’s gone.

I don’t register the sound of her body hitting the pavement below. I don’t hear the scream tearing from my throat. I don’t feel the agony of another bullet clip my shoulder as the last ERT officer fires at me because I suddenly find myself on my feet dashing toward him. I only feel rage. Pure hell pours from my heart and into the bastard before me.

My knee slams into his chest, taking him to the ground. My knuckles rip across his facemask, crack his goggles. My whole world darkens, blinding black and red.

When my vision clears, the man’s gore-drenched helmet drops from my aching fingers, what’s left of his face and shattered skull a blur through tears.

Blood blinds me in one eye, pouring down my face.

“Hände, wo wir sie sehen können!Hands up!” A bark sounds from behind me.

More of them. My mind drags through sludge trying to piece together what I am supposed to do next. Fight? Run?

But I’m bone-tired. My chest feels caved in.

So I just sit there, straddling my cousin’s killer as rough hands grab my wrists, zip-tie them behind me. I barely hear the words and warnings rattling off in German.

I barely notice when the voice cuts off, followed by several more grunts of pain and surprise.

Gentle fingers draw me back to reality, lifting my blood-spattered chin. Looking up, my eyes focus on a face, a beautiful, chiseled visage framed by deep red hair. She looks familiar, but my brain won’t make the connection.

Like I’m missing the lines linking certain dots in my memories.

“My poor dear,” a voice like velvet-lined granite purrs. “What happened to you?”

My throat tightens as I try to form a thought, a response.

“Shh…I know. Someone went to an awful lot of trouble to see you dead, along with all of your brethren. But I can help you right that wrong. Help you find the one responsible.”

“W-who are you?” I whisper.

“I am the person who you were sent here to kill.” Her eyes harden as she levels me with a vicious stare. “The target used to set you up.”

Sinking dread makes my legs watery, shaky.

“And I am the one who will give you a purpose and take your pain away.”

1

ERO

“Honey, wake up.”

“Circe…” I mumble, my eyes cracking open a fraction, my head splitting open like a rotten watermelon.

Light spears into my world, cold and bitter.

Her face and her voice, my sweetest heaven, fade as I regain consciousness. Replaced with longing. The ache that I can’t seem to get rid of whenever I wake up.

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