ARC: Crushed (27 page)

I wince. He doesn’t even know how impossible evading them would be, with me being a Beacon.

“I’m offering you an escape, the
only
escape from your situation.”

A row of books fall from the shelf with a crash.

“Why should I believe you? How do I know any of this is true?” The look on my mother’s face in the car that day says it’s true, but is that enough? Or is that just what I want to believe so I can side with the demons instead of being tortured to death? There’s no reason to believe my subconscious is any less of a liar than the rest of me.

“Your friend already told you I set her free.”

“But the rest of it?”

“You think I would make up this, this…” he waves his hand. “I’m not the sort to brag on my failures.”

“That argument only works if I believe you have shame.” I aim for flippant, but it sounds a bit weak.

“Ha, no. I have no shame. But I do have pride.”

I study his artificially-perfect profile.
That
I believe.

“I’m supposed to believe you set her free from the goodness of your heart?”

“No. It wasn’t from ‘the goodness of my heart’. It was purely selfish. I didn’t want her dead, so I saved her. And before you ask,
this
isn’t selfless either. I don’t want you dead. You’re
mine
.” He sharp-smiles. “And you’re still the most unique weapon the world has ever seen.”

But I’d sorta focused in on the
But this isn’t selfless either—I don’t want you dead
part. “This
what
isn’t selfless either?” My breath hitches as I say it. Hope clogging my throat.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

I can safely say I did not see this coming. My head might explode from relief. I’m giddy to the point of fainting.

“Instead, I propose a little experiment. I let you live, and we see how long you last at the tender mercies of your Crusader friends.” He then shoves off the table and leisurely strolls toward the door. “When you realize who your real friends are, just say the word.” He smiles wolfishly. “We’d be happy to defend one of our own, but until then, daughter dear, I’d be wary. The other demons don’t share my fatherly affections.”

So we’re still caught between the two armies, but, hey, we aren’t dead yet. The Crusader’s mantra floats through my head:
Dum vita est spes est.
In life, hope.

My father slides through the open door and a wicked smile bends his lips. “Let’s start now, shall we?” With that he snaps the door closed and I hear the lock slam into place – trapping us in a room with an invading Crusader army.

So much for fatherly affection.

Chapter 35

I dive at the door and rip at it for all I’m worth. But of course, dear daddy would have prepared for that, and it doesn’t budge. “Armand, where’s another exit?”

Armand’s only answer is to slam his body into the door.

A massive explosion nails the bookcase across the room. I can’t see it from where I stand, but I do see books soar across the room from the force of the explosion.

“Armand, this isn’t working!” Panic makes my voice crack. “They’re going to be here–”

As if to prove me right, there’s another crash.

“We have to hide.” He spins, frantically searching the room.

As for me, I’m paralyzed – not with indecision, never that, but with futility. “We can’t hide, they have the map.”

Breathe, Meda.
Think.

Armand ignores me, still searching for a place to hide. Suddenly he freezes and takes off, hauling me with him. His plan to hide sucks, but I don’t have any better ideas.

At least not until I realize the idiot is taking us
toward
the Crusaders. I slam on the brakes, but he jerks a finger upward, toward the shadowy gap between the top of the shelves and the ceiling. Not a hiding spot, an ambush.

Armand lets go and I scramble up the shelves. Another explosion almost shakes me loose but I manage to stay on and haul myself the rest of the way. I reach the top, and slide into the skinny place on my belly. I get myself turned around just as another explosion hits the wall and I hear Armand grunt. I lean over to see that he’s lost some ground. Another explosion, and suddenly the Templars’ voices are no longer muffled.

Armand’s legs are tucked up under his chin and he’s pressed as flat as possible to the shelving. On the ground below is a pile of books and debris.

The Crusaders have broken through – and the hole is right where Armand’s feet were. His expression is filled with profanity.

I slide over the side and stick my hand down as far as I can reach just as another explosion hits the wall and more of it collapses. Armand reaches up, but there are still several feet between our hands. The first Crusader, one I don’t recognize, charges from the hole and Armand leaps. I catch him and haul him up into the gap with me.

Armand’s and my eyes are huge as we look at each other. We’re wedged into the tiny space in a tangle of arms and legs. Below us, Crusaders barrel out of the tunnel.

We don’t have much time before they realize where we are. If we want the element of surprise we need to move fast, before whoever has the Beacon Map informs them we’re right there. I think I could take two, possibly three before they realize they’re under attack. Armand might be good for two, but it’s unlikely. There’s not enough space in the nook below for many Crusaders to be within striking distance before we lose the element of surprise.

On the bright side, that means there won’t be much room for a large group to manoeuvre, they’ll have to come at us only a few at a time. Armand and I have been killing together for months, we’re perfect partners. If there aren’t too many, maybe we have a chance.

I listen carefully, trying to gauge when the last one leaves the tunnel. The last thing we want is to be surrounded once we start our attack. Fortunately the Crusaders aren’t bothering with stealth. It’d be pointless after the explosions they used to get free of the tunnel. I hear the words, the voices, but I try not to. I don’t want to recognize any.

What if it’s Chi’s sister?

Or the Sarge. She’s got to be here somewhere.

I shake my head.
They betrayed you.

I call the rage, the blind Hunger.

The desperation.

I have no choice.
It’s our only hope.

I start to silently ease away from Armand, careful not to let any part of me drift out into the open. I lay flat on my belly, my head near his. Still I hear footsteps in the tunnel. Bad for so many reasons. They’re going to figure out we’re here.

And there are a lot of them.

I slide a little closer to the edge. The wait is killing me, crushing me. Finally,
finally
, I don’t hear more steps from below. I can’t be sure, not without looking and risking my position. I tense, preparing to launch head first into the fray. The first thing that moves, dies. A quick anonymous kill.

Think of what they’re here to do, Meda. It’s you or them.

Armand or them.

Jo and Chi.

Betrayal.

The world reddens. The heat creeps out under my skin.

Still, I hear no more footsteps from the tunnel.

It’s time. I lunge.

Armand’s hand on my arm jerks me back. I growl at him, low, in my throat. It’s nothing to him, killing Crusaders, but I need to ride this heat. He jerks a finger to his mouth in a “shhhh” and points at his ear. “
Listen
,” he mouths.

“Get us through this door.
Now
,” a Crusader says, and there’s an explosion from the door my father sealed.

“Sarge says to circle back. Raider squad is pressed.” Another one clips.

It’s not about us; they still don’t realize we’re here.

I look at Armand, and he gives a tiny shrug.

I’m too shocked to move, but then it’s all I can think about. I don’t know how we were saved, but we are. I don’t stop to think about it – I haven’t the time to waste looking this gift horse in the mouth. Besides, it sounds like a good way to get bit.

I stick my head over the edge. A Crusader guards the tunnel, but his back is to us – and the tunnel – as they watch the activity at the door.

“It’s magical. Our blasts aren’t making a dent,” someone says.

I look at Armand and point down to the tunnel. “
Let’s go.
”

He gives an urgent little shake of his head.

Yeah, it’s not exactly risk-free, but I don’t know how long our good fortune – and the Crusader’s incompetence – will last. We can’t just sit here. I don’t argue with him; I silently slide a leg over the side and start down without him. The last thing I see as I duck over the side is him frantically shaking his head.

Without me, there’s no reason he couldn’t remain hiding indefinitely, so when I see his boot stick out over the side, I almost breathe a sigh of relief.

Almost. There are, after all, about twenty Crusaders standing not thirty feet away.

I ease onto the floor, carefully picking spots clear of noisy debris, and slide silently into the tunnel, sinking into the shadows. I creep down the stairs, then wait, breath bated, until Armand appears at the top of the stairs.

When he reaches the bottom a grin cracks across his face.

I cannot believe we pulled that off.

I use the celebratory energy boost to start running again. We still have two hostile armies between us and escape, but, hey, you gotta celebrate the little victories, right? And the demons’ not having the map helps us, as it looks like even
with
the map the Crusaders somehow still have a hard time finding us.

I jerk to a halt.

The demons don’t have the map.

Armand turns at my stop, confusion all over his face.

The demons don’t have the Map, but Jo doesn’t know that. When it’s not where it’s supposed to be, she’ll keep looking. She won’t accept failure, not with so much at stake: the Beacon Map. My life.

Jo will never give up on me, and I can’t give up on her. I have no choice.

I turn to Armand. “We have to find Jo and Chi.”

Chapter 36

Armand seriously considers knocking me unconscious and carrying me out over his shoulder, but he knows I know what he’s thinking, and he knows I can kick his ass. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, a futile gasping like a fish on dry land, then shakes his head in a few frustrated jerks. He looks like he’s about to explode from all the things he wants to shout.

He manages a growled, “We don’t even know where they are by now.”

I shrug. “We’ll start with where you told them the map would be, and take it from there.” What else can we do?

“They could be dead for all we know!”

True. But what else can we do?

He shakes his head again. I should tell him to save himself, that I can do it on my own. I’m not entirely sure where I am, but I do know the part of the map that Jo and Chi had to memorize. I’m not completely hopeless.

But I’m pretty damn close.

If I were talking to Jo or Chi I would probably propose that they leave and save themselves. I still wouldn’t mean it of course, but offering would be the right thing to do. They would be too good to accept, even if they wanted to, and would come with me anyway. But I don’t have to say the right things to Armand. I want him with me; my chances are better with him. And he doesn’t need my permission to leave. If he doesn’t want to help me, no honor will keep him at my side.

He wouldn’t be here with me, if he didn’t want to be.

“There!” someone shouts and Armand and I twist at the same time.

Crusaders, in the tunnel.

“Dammit,
”
I curse, more at myself than at anything else, and take off running, Armand at my side. We underestimated the Crusaders incompetence – they must have been unable to unseal the door. Why the hell did we stop running to argue? Like I can’t argue and run at the same damn time?

A holy water globe explodes against the wall to our left, and this time Armand curses. Another holy water globe comes whizzing by, right past my head and explodes on the floor ahead of us. I leap over the spill. We cut around another bend and I’m grateful that, at least for now, we’re out of sight of any missiles.

We reach the stairs up to the black library and practically leap up them, then across the library and back out into the hallway, the Crusaders hot on our heels. We’re faster, and at several turns they hesitate, listening to figure out which way we’ve gone.

We start to put a tiny bit of space between us. Then we hit a straightaway, and suddenly the holy globes start flying again. We duck and weave, trying to become harder targets. A globe explodes on our left and Armand yelps. I shoot a look at him over my shoulder. His face is tight with pain and he cradles his arm in front of him. It’s blistered, raw and bleeding profusely as, acid-like, the water eats through his skin.

Our eyes meet, but he says nothing, just keeps running.

Fortunately, the hall starts to snake again and we get a reprieve from the globes, though not from the pounding of their feet behind us.

Armand grunts something, but I can’t make it out. I slow a half-step. “What?”

“I can’t keep up much longer.”

“Yes, you can.” We turn hard.

“Maybe, just maybe, I could get us out of here.” He grunts as we hit a staircase and start down its uneven surface, each step jarring. He loses his balance and rocks into the wall, leaving a bloody smear. “But I can’t…”

He’s panting too hard to speak. Before he can catch his breath we come around a bend and hear the sounds of battle in front of us. We backpedal then turn to slide down a rounded tunnel, more like a chute, really. We slide on our butts and shove off with our arms. At least I do, he’s handicapped by his injury.

Voices echo in the tunnel behind us. Damn. I was hoping they’d be distracted by the battle sounds.

I hit the bottom and hold out my hand. He grabs it with his good one and I haul him out of the tunnel. He pauses, just for a second and looks at me. He doesn’t say what we’re both thinking. That he’s slowing me down. That he’s a liability.

That he needs my help if he’s to escape.

That I have to choose between rescuing him or Jo and Chi.

He doesn’t say any of that, and I don’t say it either. But he knows. He releases my hand. “I can get you to the arena. At least you’ll know where you are, then.” He takes a breath, tucks his injured arm against his chest and starts moving again.

“You’re coming with me if I have to drag you.” It’s not hyperbole. It may come to that.

He doesn’t argue, but saves his breath for running. Blood loss makes him dizzy and I have to support him, which slows us both. He pulls off his shirt and wraps it around his arm, but it soaks through, leaving a trail of blood for our pursuers. Rescuing Chi and Jo is becoming a pipe dream. I’m not going to be in a position to save anyone soon.

Finally a grey-faced Armand smiles grimly. “The arena.” He nods ahead towards a beautiful set of arched doors, carved and painted in beautiful jewel-tones. We both pick up our pace, hope making us faster. We explode through the doors.

It’s like running back into my worst nightmare. It’s just as I remember it, down to the stone posts where Chi and Jo were chained, though there’s only one this time. The sight makes me stumble. I wonder how recently a Crusader was chained there and tortured.

I wonder if it was someone I knew.

Armand gasps beside me. “Demons.”

“What? Where?” I twist.

He shakes his head, bent over his arm and gasping. “The post. Demons are chained there too, for punishment. A lot more often than Crusaders.” Armand doesn’t wait for my reaction, but twists and slams one of the doors we just came through. I shake off my stupidity and leap for the other. He moves to the side and starts, one-handed pulling down a heavy gate.

“No, go.” He grunts. “You’re faster – check to make sure it’s clear.”

“No,” I say, “You’re coming with me.” As slow as he is, if anyone needs a head start, it’s him. I reach to pull down the gate, but he shoves me off.

“I need a chance to catch my breath,” he pauses, gasping, as if to make his point. “Let me do this, while you check–”

I don’t make him finish. I didn’t want to see it, but it’s obvious. He can’t keep running. He’s right.

I curse hard, but do as he suggests. I know from his description that there’s only one other exit from the arena – the tunnel I came through the last time I was here. It’s sealed with a steel door this time – to keep the participants from having anywhere to hide, probably – and I jerk it out of the way and take off down the tunnel.

I don’t know how much further Armand can go. He might be better off without me – without a Beacon leading the Crusaders right to him. If the demons catch him, he’ll be punished. I can’t think of what that would mean, what it would entail, him at their mercy. They do have a rule against killing their own, only I don’t know how absolute that rule is. Still, Armand is smooth and clever. Maybe he’ll be able to talk himself out of a death sentence. At least without me, he could hide from the Crusaders. At the Crusader’s mercy he would have no chance.

The Crusaders couldn’t find you before, maybe they won’t again,
a hopeful little part of me whispers, the part that can’t face leaving Armand behind. But the rational part of me knows I can’t bank on being that miraculously lucky again. My mind whirls furiously, seeking options, seeking escape like a rat trapped on a sinking ship.
Maybe, we’ll get lucky again. Armand seemed confident we could continue hiding from them in the library.

I reach the end of the little hallway and jerk the door open.

Then stop, frozen in horror.

No, no. It can’t be.

Please, no.

I slam the door closed, and race back down the tunnel. Back to Armand. He pushes off the wall he’s slumped against as I enter. “Demons!” I shout. “Demons coming the other way!”

I am sick. Sick to death as I say it. “We’re surrounded.”