Page 383 of Shadowblood Souls
My pulse thumps at a frenetic rhythm.
The insurgents gave the government of whatever country or state we’ve arrived in a deadline of twelve hours to meet their demands before they started a full-scale slaughter of the inhabitants. It took Clancy eleven hours to finalize his plans, transport us out here, and have Andreas conduct an initial survey of the situation while invisible.
We’ve got only one more to save the people huddled and hunched with fear in the broad courtyard at the edge of the village.
As many of them as we can still save. The terrorists have already murdered a few—whether because those civilians resisted or simply to make a point about how serious they are, I don’t know.
The bodies of two men and a woman lie sprawled at the outskirts of the courtyard, dark stains marking the packed dirt beneath their corpses.
I swallow thickly, which rather than clearing the uncomfortable flavor from my mouth only intensifies it.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be carrying out Clancy’s mission for him or earning him money and acclaim.
But there’ve got to be at least a hundred innocent people down there in their tight huddle, many of them kids or elders, without much hope of defending themselves. I also don’t want all of them to die if I can help it.
That’s the worst part of our new circumstances, isn’t it? If Clancy honestly wanted to help people out of the goodness of his heart, including us shadowbloods, I might have been okay continuing the life he set up for us.
If I could really be a superhero, sweeping in to save the day with powers that would suddenly seem more awe-inspiring than monstrous, would I turn down the opportunity so I could claim my own freedom instead?
I don’t think I would. Not if it was a real choice with its own kind of freedom woven in.
And Clancy knows that. It’s why he made his initial pitch to us the way he did, and why I didn’t resist from the start.
He manipulated our emotions as deftly as Griffin can, in his own way. Even now, he’s arranging the scales so that any attempt we make to have lives of our own will result in someone else’s death.
I am not a monster. Even though I’ll never trust Clancy to put what’s right over his own self-interests, even though I have nointention of returning to the island after today if I can help it, I’m still going to do all I can to ensure every captive below survives the day.
What happens after is on Clancy’s conscience, not mine. He set the stage; we’re just working with the scripts he gave us.
I’ve noted fourteen of the insurgents in their positions around the village, mostly where Andreas reported seeing them. Nine are stationed in a loose circle around the cluster of hostages, strolling a little this way and that, rifles held at the ready. Five others roam more widely around the village, keeping watch for new arrivals.
I don’t need Griffin’s sensitivity to read the wariness in their postures. They’re perfectly aware that the officials they’re bargaining with would rather kill them than give in to their demands.
They just aren’t prepared for the resources those officials were able to bring to bear this time.
They aren’t remotely ready to deal with us.
“I can see all eight of the men Andreas said were in the taller buildings around the courtyard,” Zian says from beside me, where he’s hunkered down behind the scrubs too. “A couple of them are in different rooms from what he reported, but that’s all. If there’s anyone else farther into the village, they’re too far away for me to make out.”
Jacob lets out a rough sound by my other shoulder. “Drey searched the whole village. He’d have noticed if there were more. I’d only be worried if you couldn’t find everyone he saw.”
He lifts his head to eye the terrain down the slope leading toward the nearest buildings and the courtyard. “We should start with the pricks in the buildings. I can take them out at a distance as long as I know where they are—and without the others realizing anything’s wrong.”
I smile grimly. “The more of them we can eliminate before they go on the defensive, the better.”
My scream is going to be the ultimate key to our victory, but as soon as that shriek careens from my lungs, we might as well have bellowed out a war cry. And I’m not sure if I can target the figures I can’t even see while keeping my hunger for pain under tight enough control that I won’t catch any of the civilians in its net.
A small herd of sheep stirs in a pen just beyond the courtyard. One of them pushes at the weathered boards of the fence with an emphatic bleat loud enough to reach our ears.
The nearest insurgent spins and squeezes his trigger.
The blare of the shot reverberates through the air. As I flinch, the sheep thuds over on its side.
Behind me, Griffin draws in a shaky breath. Whiffs of nervous pheromones tickle my nose from his direction.
He’s never been right in a battle like this before. Never had to see the violence firsthand.
He speaks steadily enough, though. “I’ll keep the attackers as calm as possible. If you think a different emotional effect would help more, just say the word.”
