43. Chapter 43

43

A blaze of sickly green magical light erupted in the darkness to cast the approaching guard’s shadow long and misshapen across the ground, and that shadow marched ever closer to Rebecca’s hiding spot.

“Dammit, Tulio,” he grumbled, footsteps whispering across the dead grass. “I swear, if you’re back there sleeping again, I’m gonna—”

He stopped when he rounded the rear of the vehicle to find Tulio lying around on the job. But Tulio wasn’t sleeping this time. His eyes were wide open, the black hole of his missing eye gaping around scar tissue as the one working orb that had once glowed orange with the troll’s inner light had become a flat, dark gray.

A reflection of the nothingness that remained inside his empty shell of a corpse.

“What the—”

Rebecca pounced from around the other side of the utility truck, her speed and strength restored enough to offer much more of an advantage over this second guard than she’d had over Tulio.

One swift upward lunge with the tip of her Bloodshadow spear, and the cry of surprise and alarm that had built within the warlock’s lungs died with a gurgling choke.

The tip of her spear pierced right up through the soft underside of his chin, skewering him through the roof of his mouth and puncturing his brain.

His eyes fluttered side to side in a twitchy oscillation before Rebecca drew on the power of her Bloodshadow magic one more time to take this second Harkennr soldier for everything he was worth.

Literally.

Her glinting silver spear strobed and pulsed in her hands as she drew out the warlock’s spark .

His eyes rolled back in his head before that spark emerged from behind the center of his forehead, his body bucking and jerking while Rebecca leaned in, opened her mouth, and inhaled the magic of his life force.

The same force that fueled all living beings, with or without magic.

But the ones with magic had so much more to offer.

While the smoky tendrils of Rebecca’s power intertwined with the glowing filaments of the warlock’s spark drawn from the center of his forehead like silken threads drawn from a spool, the warlock remained on his feet—only because Rebecca’s spear thrust up through his head propped him upright.

When she was finished, the warlock’s body collapsed in the dirt and dead grass right beside the troll’s, his wide eyes now deprived of their irises’ color, the bright whites and the black pupils now nothing but gray.

Rebecca sucked in a shuddering, trembling breath as her entire existence lit up with energy, power, vitality, life. The warmth of her Elven spark and the power of her bloodline blazed through her like liquid fire, filling her veins, muscles, sinew, bone, every cell from the inside out, until she could have sworn she was glowing.

Until she could have wielded as much power as this world’s sun, if she’d wanted.

Every single particle of her was alive . Her magic thrummed with renewed vigor, and tears of ecstasy shimmered in her eyes.

Holy fuck.

After such an incredibly long lifetime like hers without experiencing the dulling of her own life force or any failing of her own health, physical or magical—until only a few days ago—Rebecca simply hadn’t known the vast differences between her failing body and its perfect natural state.

Not until this very moment.

She was strong enough to fell entire armies on her own. To raze civilizations to the ground or lift them higher on her own back.

She was vicious enough and vital enough to consume entire worlds if she had a mind to, and nothing in existence on either Earth or Xahar’áhsh would ever feel as good, as right, as pristinely perfect as what she felt now in the full and complete returning to herself.

It was everything she could do not to scream in joy beneath the all-pervading power surging back into her, strumming each delicate thread of her life force with the glorious power inherent in a Bloodshadow Elf like her.

The only one like her.

By the Blood, this was infinitely better than even the blindingly intoxicating rush of manufactured energy from Zida’s emergency sniffy vials .

She could have stood there on the far side of the utility vehicle, barely hidden in enemy territory, her head tilted back beneath the light of the stars for minutes or hours or mere seconds. Time ceased to exist.

When she finally opened her eyes, however, it was clear not enough time had passed for the rest of the security detail to have noticed two of their own missing and forever removed from the existence they had once led.

She couldn’t have been here that long.

Rebecca reached for her left bicep and gave it a tentative squeeze. Sensation responded immediately, crackling across her flesh and through her muscles, even padded by her light jacket and the bandages still around her left forearm and wrist.

Everywhere she touched in a quick search from shoulder to fingertips erupted with as much detailed sensation as she’d known before.

Including the lancing pain of a sliced forearm from Aldous’s blade and the burning, gnawing tightness of the homunculus handprint seared into the flesh of her wrist.

Yes, she had her full magic back, but that didn’t mean shit if she didn’t use it.

After shoving up her jacket sleeve, she struggled to rip Zida’s bandages off her wrist. She even considered tearing the rest of the gauze off with her teeth before she finally got the wrappings to slide down over her hand.

That cement-gray handprint was still there, now darker than ever before. Almost as if a new homunculus hand were materializing right there in her own flesh. And it hurt like a bitch.

At least she could feel it again.

Drawing a deep breath, Rebecca centered herself and her concentration on the healing she hadn’t been able to perform since poisoning herself like an idiot, but now she had the chance.

Hovering her other hand over her injured wrist didn’t make her cough, didn’t squeeze around her chest like a giant fist, didn’t send instant pain flaring through every part of her body.

She could heal herself again. Just like this.

A shout from the other side of the prison yard jerked her back into the present.

“Lem! What the hell are you doing over there?”

Crouching behind the vehicle, Rebecca glanced at the empty corpses on the ground.

Tulio and Lem, huh? Where did these Earthborn magicals come up with their names ?

Rebecca didn’t have a whole lot of time left. Someone would come looking for the missing troll and warlock, and if she wanted to be at her best, she needed to heal the rest of what ailed her.

The warmth of her magic tingled through her limbs as a golden glow rose in the center of her palm hovering above her wounded wrist.

“Lem! Akskashirim curse you and your secret little trades.” Footsteps clomped closer.

Her Bloodshadow magic burned away the rest of the homunculus’s darkness branded into her wrist—and burned her hardened, gray, stonelike flesh away with it.

“When I call for a status update and you don’t answer, you better pray to the Dalu’Rázj you’re either dead or—”

The new guy stopped when he rounded the back of the vehicle and found the fallen corpses of both Tulio the troll and Lem the warlock. With a snarl, he dropped to one knee to feel both bodies for a pulse he wouldn’t find.

On the other side of the vehicle, facing the east side of the prison’s perimeter fence, Rebecca crouched low to the dirt. While the first few layers of her skin blackened and charred, purifying themselves beneath her magic and burning furiously in a way she’d come to welcome and appreciate, she watched through the space beneath the utility vehicle’s undercarriage.

How had she not noticed a half-ogre stationed out front with everyone else?

As far as ogres went, he was runtish in size, but compared to every other magical of more moderate humanoid-adjacent stature, he was fucking huge.

Rebecca hadn’t planned to fight anyone that big tonight.

But then she remembered it didn’t matter anymore. She was restored. She was whole, more or less. She could have taken on three pureblood ogres all at the same time. This would be a piece of cake.

Just as soon as she burned out the last of her wrist’s damaged flesh.

Another furious snarl burst from the half-ogre’s lips as he rose off his knees.

Rebecca had better finish up quick and get on him before anyone else caught wind of trouble in their master’s sadistic paradise.

Enlivened by the idea of moving in on this compound as silent and swift and deadly as she was created to be, taking out her enemy one body at a time, Rebecca urged her healing magic to work faster.

Two minutes ago, just ridding herself of the homunculus poison she’d consumed with its not-spark had been better than she’d imagined. But now, she could hardly work fast enough to restore herself to full health and strength, completely wound-free.

Then there would be nothing more to slow her down.

She just wasn’t quite fast enough .

Seconds before the last of Rebecca’s Bloodshadow healing could fully take effect, the half-ogre marched around the back of the utility vehicle in her direction, sniffing at the air like a wild beast on the hunt catching wind of its prey.

Then he fully rounded the vehicle and stopped when he saw an elf clothed in all black, crouching in the dead grass with one palm glowing above her overturned forearm and that forearm covered in blackened, charred flesh that now flaked off her wrist in curling pieces to flutter away from her on the breeze.

With new, pure, healthy, perfect flesh revealing itself beneath.

Rebecca looked sharply up at him, her eyes wide.

Shit. He’d found her. She wasn’t ready.

She had to handle this guy now, whether or not she was finished.

He opened his mouth and sucked in a deep breath, but before she could even move, a dark gray blur darted past her from behind. No more than two feet from her right shoulder, the enormous shape leapt for the half-ogre’s throat.

The shaggy gray mass hit the half-ogre head-on and sent him crashing backward to the ground in a snarling pile of limbs and fur and flashing teeth.

The second the half-ogre hit the dry dirt to try wrestling the enormous wolf off himself with his bare hands, he’d already started screaming.

Then his screams worsened, his shrieks growing wildly more unhinged, colored by terror and pain when the wolf tore a chunk of flesh from an arm, then chomped down on his shoulder, then ripped off a nice bit of fatty, muscular belly.

In seconds, the half-ogre’s screams filled the prison yard, automatically sounding the alarm for every other guard on duty because his screams sounded nothing like those of Harkennr’s prisoners.

Then everyone knew something was wrong on the other side of the easternmost utility vehicle.

Shouts rose from every other direction of the prison yard. Beams of light strobed and streaked across the dead and dying grass, searching for the intruder and the unfortunate member among their ranks who still screamed bloody murder like a lunatic with a snarling gray wolf still chomping at his flesh and pinning him to the ground.

With a hiss, Rebecca ignored the last bits of blackened flakes still clinging to her wrist and jumped to her feet to peer around the edge of the vehicle.

The prison yard erupted in shouted commands and hasty movement and pounding footsteps now that the enemy had some inkling they were under attack.

Dammit, she could have gotten so much farther than this on her own.

But now her stealthy entrance had been completely blown, and she’d have to fight at least a dozen more of Harkennr’s soldiers than she would’ve willingly taken on in the first place.

All because Maxwell Hannigan had come sniffing after her, sticking his nose in her private business, and now he was the one about to get them both caught up in a whole world of hurt because he couldn’t just leave her the hell alone.

She’d known it was Maxwell from the second he’d leapt past her out of the darkness to attack the half-ogre. She’d seen him shift in the field during plenty of mission battles and instantly recognized his wolf.

That didn’t mean she was happy to see him.

A half-dozen armed magicals charged toward her on foot, automatic magitek assault rifles powered up and ready to go. A second later, the base’s breach alarm activated, blaring non-stop and so loudly, Rebecca could hardly hear herself think.

The giant spotlight switching on inside one of the entrance gates’ guard towers didn’t help either.

“Dammit, Hannigan,” she growled from the shadows behind the vehicle while the guards rushed toward her position.

Maybe he’d hurt her later, maybe not, but the enormous gray wolf finally closed his jaws around the half-ogre’s thick neck with unnatural force. With a quick jerk of his head and a sickening crunch, he broke the half-ogre’s neck between those powerful jaws.

The screaming stopped, but the damage had already been done.

And now Rebecca had to fight way too many enemy combatants at once. How the hell she was supposed to do that now was anyone’s guess; she couldn’t use her Bloodshadow magic anymore. Not with Maxwell here. Not where he could see it with his own eyes only to question her mercilessly about it later.

The breach alarm wailed high and low. Several more floodlights clicked on along the prison’s exterior wall. Then the first of Harkennr’s soldiers to reach the intruders converged upon their position behind the vehicle.

With another hiss, Rebecca summoned a churning sphere of crackling red battle magic in her hand and darted into the fray without so much as attempting to form a new plan.

The shit had already hit the fan; there was no use trying to pretend otherwise.

She surprised the first few soldiers rounding the rear of the utility vehicle as she darted out from behind it. The first guy got a face full of her battle magic that sent him careening backward across the prison yard with a pained shriek before he slumped to the ground somewhere beside the building’s entrance .

A high-powered whine rose in pitch and exploded in front of Rebecca’s face. She stopped short and reeled away from the blast of silver, violet-tinged magical energy bursting from the muzzle of one augmented magitek assault rifle.

The blast crashed into the side of the utility vehicle a second before the entire thing erupted with a deafening explosion, a widening blast of unbearable heat, and a plume of thick, dark smoke. Shards of shredded metal and shattered plexiglass sprayed everywhere like deliberately fired shrapnel.

Rebecca ducked and kept running through the scattered wreckage falling out of the sky and plunking down into the grass all around her. The bodies of Harkennr’s frontline soldiers moved sporadically in the explosion’s aftermath, though several of them recovered their senses quickly enough to squeeze off multiple rounds of augmented weapons fire or their own intrinsic magical attacks summoned for personal use.

She dodged the sporadic burst of magical weaponry launched her way, but she couldn’t keep that up forever.

Moments later, the front doors of the Old Joliet Prison were flung wide open, and another dozen armed enemies spilled into the yard while that damn breach siren just kept wailing and the blindingly bright searchlight in the guard tower swept back and forth across the smoking dirt and patches of flaming grass.

The extra soldiers of Harkennr’s private army weren’t even the worst part.

When those doors opened, the worst part increased in volume and intensity—all those screams, shrieks, sobs, and desperate wails coming from inside the prison itself, from all the imprisoned victims held against their will and used for ancestors only knew what kind of terrifying new experiments Harkennr was up to these days.

The cries from inside were overwhelming.

Rebecca could hide from enemy targets. She could lie in wait and pick them off one by one if she wanted. But she could do nothing against the sound of so much agony erupting from inside the prison.

She couldn’t alleviate the pain of dozens, if not hundreds, of captured magicals held prisoner for one sick bastard’s private experiments. Nor could she stop herself from feeling all of that agonized, miserable energy shooting into the yard with the screams and pleas for mercy and release.

Cries begging for death.

The weight of it stopped her in her tracks.

Rebecca sucked in a raw, jagged breath, trying to pull herself back together.

She wasn’t supposed to feel anyone else’s pain. That part was entirely new. What the hell was Harkennr doing to them ?

What was the sound doing to her?

Flashes of fire and pain and misery bombarded her memory from all sides, past, present, and future. Seconds later, it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between the memories she’d tried to obliterate decades ago and the reality of her current situation, the very real danger facing her in the here and now.

For a moment, Rebecca almost let herself believe she was back in Ryngivát, with Kordus Harkennr himself, torturing herself all over again while she pretended to be someone else for entirely different reasons.

Entirely darker reasons…

Another crackling line of magitek weapons fire burst through the darkness in her general direction, casting streaks of noxious green light across the dead grass while shadows lengthened and shortened all around her.

Another vehicle exploded somewhere on the other side of the prison yard, though whether that was a result of the enemy’s friendly fire in the chaos, some other malfunction, or Maxwell’s uninvited intrusion, there was no way to tell.

It was hard enough to see anything within the billowing smoke and scattered bursts, especially when she hadn’t had time to formulate a contingency plan for someone crashing her private infiltration mission.

Rebecca reached the next vehicle and ducked beneath a crackle of blazing yellow magic bursting from the spinning turret mount on the back of the vehicle, its operator hauling the entire machine in her direction. But the fired shots went so wide, she had a feeling he couldn’t see her in the darkness.

All the smoke and debris from the explosions and the scattered shreds of shrapnel from who knew what filling the air only added to the chaos and made it impossible to tell what was happening anywhere.

Until she heard a different kind of shrieking cry coming from not too far away that made her blood run cold.