Page 390 of Shadowblood Souls
I’m flying, nothing but strength, speed, and fury—but this is only the upper floor. The instant I see the last of the terrorists around me collapse, I throw myself toward the stairwell.
The pain I drank in from the latest targets of my shriek replaces the energy I expended in my attack. I blaze down the stairs and slice through four more militants with my shriek and my gun before anyone below has a chance to think about reacting.
Then the rifle’s trigger gives a hollow click. I toss it aside, rebound off a wall to tear one man’s head right off his body, carve open another with the force of my scream?—
And the front door bursts open.
Zian barrels into the building with a feral roar, his face contorted with its full wolf-man visage. The transformation must have rallied his own strength, because he slams one gunman into the wall and gouges open another’s chest in the space of a blink.
Most of the hostages are crying out now, their terror pricking at me. I can’t imagine Zian likes hearing how our rescue is being received either, but he rampages on, focusing on the insurgents who were gathered around the doorway.
The second he’s tossed the last aside, I let my scream fade just long enough to call out. “Get out of here! Hide in your homes until it’s safe!”
I gesture with my arms at the same time, knowing it’s likely none of them can understand my words. Zian stumbles back out into the courtyard.
The hostages hesitate until I crash into the last remaining terrorist with another vicious shriek. Then they scramble toward the doorway with a babble of panic.
The rush of pain-powered strength ebbs in my limbs. My breath stutters with a jitter of my nerves.
I won’t be able to bring this heightened state all the way back to Clancy—but I have to use it in every way possible while I can.
Bending down, I smash my fist across the monitoring band clinging to my ankle.
I have just enough pain-driven might left to crack the metal and then to yank the band the rest of the way off me. I stomp on it to a sizzle of sparks.
We can tell Clancy it was destroyed in the fight. Technically that’s even true.
When we meet him again, I don’t want him to have a single clue what’s going on inside me.
Thirty-Three
Riva
Ileap through the doorway to rejoin the others. The hostages have scattered across the village, ducking into the other buildings. Doors thud decisively.
Not a single additional gunshot rings out. No armed men appear around the boundaries of the courtyard.
I wait for several beats of my heart, my ears pricked, but no further catastrophe descends on us.
We did it. It wasn’t tidy, but we did it.
Zian has slumped down on the ground, his face returned to normal and shining with sweat but a broad grin baring his teeth. Jacob is hobbling over to him with Tegan helping balance him.
“We have to get out of here,” I say, knowing my voice will carry through their own ankle bands—that it’ll tell Clancy that I survived even if my own monitor didn’t. “Regroup with the guardians—Dominic will be able to heal you too.”
I pause with a fresh punch of nausea. There’ll be no healing George.
I’m just opening my mouth to speak again when a faint rustle reaches my ears. Jacob has whipped his arm upward before I can even turn around.
The purple poisoned spikes jut from the side of his forearm—and spring free. They zing through the air like a set of darts and spear the insurgent who was still alive enough to drag himself to the doorway across the chest.
The man sprawls, his eyes glazing. The gun he was raising toward me slips from his limp hand.
Jacob stares at his arm. “I— They’ve never done that before.”
I swallow thickly, thinking of the power that pealed through me just moments ago, more than I’ve ever felt in my life. “Our abilities are still evolving, apparently.”
Jacob’s mouth sets in a slanted line as if he isn’t sure whether to be happy about that development. Then he motions me toward him.
