Chapter Twenty-One

Somewhere Only We Know

Texas

I zip down the empty corridor, retracing my steps as much as my panicked mind allows. But I don’t need to rely on my memories. The smell of blood is as strong as a vat of Pine-Sol. It’s the shouts and shrieks and snarls that yeet any source of calm into the stratosphere.

Something rams inside of me, like a bucking bull ready to explode at the sight of a red-cloaked rider. The stone feels hot, like a poker emblazoned inside the palm of my hand.

Listen, listen, listen.

Texas, Texas, Texas.

Energy, dark and thick, twists and tangles itself around me. My legs are numb, my bones are pulp. Losing balance, I stumble to my feet. My knees scrape the dusty floors, creating a plume of dust.

Shit. I shake my head. “Not yet. You don’t have to force yourself out anymore. I’m here, too.”

The darkness understands me and slithers away. Well, not away. Back inside. Waiting for me, for an opening.

“Do not fear, Maximus. We are with you now. We are sorry we could not help in the Netherworld.”

“Fadeela.” I express my gratitude in a hoarse voice. Of course, she would be the first voice I heard. From Richmond’s notes, she was the first slayer to volunteer her powers.

“Go now. They will need us.”

I jump to my feet, pushing full speed until I burst into a small room with low ceilings.

A mishmash of vampires and humans, who I assume are temple guardians, as well as Rose and Nik. Fifteen against two, but with Rose, I like the odds.

Still, there’s no Alexander. No Anton. And that thread of fear that nearly bowled me over fills my stomach and floods my throat like vomit.

“Well, there you are!” Rose greets as she jams her sword into the heart of a vampire. The body crumbles to ash after she twists the sword into its chest and pulls it straight up, slicing it in half.

A vampire tries (and fails) to impale me with its fists. I bitch slap it into the wall so hard it crushes its skull.

It feels good to let out some aggression.

“Where have you been?” Rose asks, still fighting and maiming, never breaking her stride.

“Oh, you know,” I say between kicks, punches, and death blows. “Nothing much. Just had a private tour of the Underworld.”

“And you didn’t send me a postcard?” She pretends to pout.

“Where’s Anton? Alexander?” I cut to the chase.

“Anton ran after his dad a few minutes ago. I think I hear them outside.”

“Oh…” I pick up the speed, attempting to cut down the numbers. I’ve only killed two so far.

“We’ve got it, Slayer.” Rose chuckles. “At least I do. Nikolai needs to catch up.”

Nik grunts from across the room. There’s a neat pile of bodies in the corner and ash around his feet. He’s cleaning up nicely.

Technically, we’re outnumbered, but Rose and her little pookie, who are killing vamps in the other corner of the room, are more than capable.

“Don’t kill the humans.” I nod toward one of the temple guardians, I’m assuming since they’re wearing the same dark coffee pants and shirt that Omar had worn.

She scoffs. “No promises. The little idiots refuse to retreat, and they’re getting in our way.”

With large and sharp ancient weapons, one guy with a grim reaper–looking scythe slashes through the vamps and attempts to attack Nik, who dodges and then pushes one of Alexander’s vampires into the blade.

Yikes.

But they’re humans, and we have rules. “Seriously. Try not to kill them.”

“Fine.” She’s the definition of put out, but I don’t have time for the BS. Something must’ve shown on my face, because she drops the comedy routine and quickly dispatches another vampire. Now they have six or seven to finish.

I try to leave, but another vampire—a Saqqara clansman—flies straight into me and topples me over.

The vampire leaps up but bops her head against the low ceilings. “Stay and fight, Maximus.”

Though the vampire levitates in the air, her feet scrape the floor.

Wasting no time, I jump, grab her leg, and slam her to the ground. There’s not enough time or space for me to summon a weapon, but my fists will have to do. I pummel her over and over, pouring my frustrating into the fight.

“She’s out, slayer.” Someone pulls me off the vampire.

Seconds later, the vampire turns to ashes.

“We’re…we’re done, I think.” Rose pants, looking around the room. The remaining humans are knocked out cold near Nikolai’s feet.

“I…I’ve got to go—”

Rose grabs my arm before I can dash out. “Wait, let’s come up with a plan.”

“Anton is fighting Alexander!” I shout. “And…and Khamari is still down there arguing with the gods about whether he can come to the surface. We can’t just sit here and talk. They’re dying.” My croaking voice shakes with fear.

Because I’m scared.

Frightened.

Rose pulls me close into a hug and then whispers in my ear, “One of the vampires told us that Alexander wants the Emerald Tablet. Do you have it?”

I shake my head. “No. The gods…” I stop speaking. Just in case Alexander or one of his fangy friends can hear me. “No, I don’t have it.”

“But you’ve seen it?” Nikolai, who stands just behind Rose, asks.

If everything goes to plan, Khamari will have it and then bring it to the surface. He can’t do that now.

“Khamari wants it, and if he has his way, he’ll convince the gods to give it to him,” I whisper. “Can you both stop him? I’ll help Anton fight.”

Nikolai lowers his chin to his thumb. “Anton said to protect the tablet and you at all costs. Therefore, we cannot allow you to go outside, where they fight.” His blue eyes look sad, but his voice is hard as the stone that surrounds us.

“We can’t sit here. Khamari needs a warning. I can tell you where he is, though the room may look empty for now. But they’ll be able to hear you, I think.”

“I can trace back to where you went, slayer.” Rose taps her nose. “We’ll warn the gods and Khamari. You can go to Anton.”

“Rose,” Nikolai snaps.

“You haven’t seen Alexander fight, but I have. Anton alone won’t be able to defeat him. So no, I’m not babysitting the most powerful slayer in existence.” Rose squeezes my hand. “She has work to do.”

“Thanks, Rose.” I squeeze her hand in return.

“Go, now, before he tries to stop you. We’ll find Khamari,” she whispers, even though Nikolai can hear.

I rush outside to the vast parking lot, and it doesn’t take me long to find Alexander and Anton, what with the banging and dust cyclones rising from their fight. I try running into the action, but the dust clogs my lungs and vision. Thankfully, the pyramids don’t open to the public until eight a.m., and I imagine the temple guardians have their little fake security on standby to protect the humans from coming here.

Taking a deep breath, I tap into the souls of the stone.

“Help me out. Help me see.”

Like a puppet, my arms shoot straight into the air. Palms open, I move my hands in opposite directions, moving the skies clear. Now, I can see them.

Alexander and Anton both have weapons drawn, staring at each other like cowboys from the Wild West.

A bright white light that nearly replicates the heat of the sun emits from Anton’s sword. The giant, six-foot blade points at Alexander’s chest. Heat from the sword slowly peels away the flesh on Alexander’s face.

Alexander steps back, but there’s a grin on his face. Like he has a secret that only he knows. He has a sword, too, something humming with dark energy. My skin prickles as the fine hairs on my forearm statically stick straight.

Something that calls to me.

“Come closer, little bird,” Alexander mocks.

He knows me—knows my real name. My feet are like magnets, and whatever it is pulls me in his direction.

Anton hazards a glance at me. In a flash, his eyes go soft, pleading with me to step back. I nod and realize that it wasn’t Alexander but the darkness that dares me to fight.

The land is flat, hard. The soft sands of the desert are miles away.

I won’t leave Anton, but I won’t interfere. And if Alexander tries to use me as a distraction, well, he’s in for a rude-ass awakening.

I’ve battled electric eels, snakes, and gods.

And honestly—honestly? I wish he would try me.

So I edge toward the walls made of rectangular brown blocks, never taking my eyes off the Battle Part Deux.

Since I arrived, they’ve slowed. More precise, deliberate, as if they’re putting on a show.

Anton is on the attack. He wields his sword like it’s an extension of himself. Though he’s aggressive, he’s still calm. Even his eyes are impassive.

But Alexander is not. His lips curve into a smile. He’s enjoying the fight, the picking, the prodding.

The testing.

“You’ve gotten stronger since we last fought,” Alexander compliments his son.

Anton arcs his blade into the air, but Alexander dodges. Anton just barely misses his shoulders, but the blade singes Alexander’s shirt. “Can’t say that you have.”

“I’m exercising caution. I’d hate to kill my one and only son.”

“Your only living son.”

“Hmm. Yes. I had two sons before you. Both killed by the greed of man. Poisoned.” His voice shakes with fury. “Humans cannot be trusted. They only want power, and when they gain the world, they seek to destroy it.”

“Like you?”

“I know what to do with power.”

“Make vampires who will suck the life force from others.”

Alexander swings the word up and down, chopping the air like he’s dicing carrots. When I see the tip of his sword dripping with blood, I gasp, taking a step forward.

Chest heaving, Anton puts his fist into the air. A signal he uses in practice to get me to freeze. He hunches his shoulders as blood trickles down his body.

“I’m more than a mindless beast, Anton. I did not ask for this raging demon inside of me. But I will use it, and I will transform it. I will become a god. One who listens. One who gives everyone, including humans, a choice. One who—”

“Kills,” Anton finishes for him.

“Like any god, there are consequences for followers who do not listen. But there will be clear rules and guidelines. No one will have to fear the beyond. If they take my gift, death is unnecessary. They won’t have to live under a set of rules in order to be good enough and avoid being tortured for eternity.”

“But you died,” I say. “I’ve seen where you’ve been and know you barely survived from getting your flesh torn to shreds. Your body was broken and eaten every day. You survived burning in the pits, and that scares you, doesn’t it? Because no one, not even you, can cheat death.”

He takes his eyes off his opponent. The fierceness of his gaze burns. “You’re wrong, little bird. I will show you. I will make us perfect…” He cuts himself off and snaps his attention back to Anton, who lunges with his sword, which impales Alexander’s abdomen. Alexander stumbles back, hand to his wounded side. Blood the color of garnet seeps from his wound.

My breath speeds. He’s done it.

I smile at Anton, though he’s not looking at me. He won’t make the same mistake as his father, and he solely focuses his attention on Alexander. He lifts his sword, readying himself for what I know will be the death blow, but before he can swing down on his neck, Alexander cranks back his fist and sends a crushing blow to Anton’s stomach. Anton drops his sword as he sails into the air.

“Shit!” I run to grab his sword before Alexander can and then run to my mentor.

“Get up.”

Anton pushes up from his palms. He grabs the sword from my hand and steadies himself. Blood drips from his eyebrow, and I doubt he can see much of anything in his left eye.

“You good?”

“Great.” He wipes the blood with the back of his hand. “You should step back.”

“You turning up the heat?” I ask Anton while I stare at Alexander, who just gives him the universal c’mon signal.

“Yes.” He takes the blood from his hand and smears it on the hilt of his sword, Solphear. Light ignites like a blaze. “Make the sun rise, Solphear.”

When I feel its heat, I back away.

Anton crouches low, pushes off his feet, and flies into the air, then lands in front of his father. The distance is perfect and matches the length of his sword, which pricks Alexander’s neck.

Even as sweat drips from his stubbled cheeks, dropping like fat raindrops on the ground, Alexander doesn’t flinch. Anton wastes no time. There are no exaggerated slow steps. The pace of the deadly dance picks up, the tempo—deadly.

Anton and Alexander become blurred, but this time, it seems like Anton has the upper hand. Now, Alexander is on the attack. He twists, pivots, then slams his sword over Anton’s head. Anton spins out of the attack and slashes overhead in defense. Copying Alexander’s move, Anton knocks his fist into his abdomen, takes his blade, and slashes through his stomach. Red gushes from Alexander’s center.

He looks down, touches the growing ring of crimson. Laughing, he lifts his bloodied fingers to his lips and licks the red away. “You really have grown stronger, my son. But not strong enough.” He stretches out his hand, his fingertips lengthening into claws. His face, once an impassive mask, reveals a revolting mess of sharp, canine-like teeth and obsidian, oval-shaped eyes.

His claws unfurl as he points to…me.

“It’s time you enter this dance.”

“A dance?” I step back, once, twice, but my feet stop dragging—it’s as if someone pressed pause on my muscles and squeezed, squeezed, squeezed.

“Time for you to fight, little bird.” He flicks his finger from me into the air. My body flies and drops like a sack of potatoes in front of Anton’s feet.

I slowly lift my head, look at Anton. His eyes are wide, and his battered body is shaking.

My fists rise and, like always, when we spar, my left foot slides forward and right leg back. But I’m not doing this. I’m not…I’m not in control.

My fists tremor, and I’m shaking, fighting whatever this foreign thing is inside of me.

“I…I can’t control myself.” My voice is a whimper.

“I know.” Anton exhales, and he looks very, very sorry. “I was afraid he’d use this power.”

I curse Alexander as my body pulls itself up from the ground. My legs slide back. I sink into my fighting stance. My fists lift on its own, forming a barrier around my head. I try, fail , to lower my fists. It’s like I’m arm-wrestling the Hulk.

My muscles scream with pain from the strain.

“Stop it!” I yell at Alexander. I can’t even blink away the tears welling in my eyes.

“Begin,” he commands. My fists are weapons, pounding away with a speed that scares me, so quick the wind grates against my skin, landing bows repeatedly across Anton’s face.

“Hit me,” I plead with Anton. “Knock me out.”

“You can try,” Alexander says smugly, his hands resting against his abdomen as he sits leisurely against the brick wall. “But I can still use your body—as long as you’re alive. The only way out is death.”

I spin and kick Anton. This time he dodges.

“I’m sorry.” I try to stumble away, but my legs march me closer to Anton. A surge of anger shakes my body. I should’ve stayed inside. Alexander could be dead. But now he’s using me against Anton. Using me to tire him out while he heals and rests.

I slam my eyes shut. My hands burn, and the muscles and bones in my fingers strain in an effort to not flick my ring finger and call for more power.

“Help me. Someone. How do I fight this?”

“If we come out, then he’ll use us, too,” a soul answers.

“I need my body back. I need control.”

“No!” This time Remington speaks. “You need to lose control.”

That’s right. I can trust myself. Trust my darkness. We’ve got this.

“Fight!” Alexander shouts. He waves his hands like he’s conducting an orchestra.

His words revolt me. Expectant, commanding. My muscles contract, but I fight against his pull, dropping to my knees, bending over on all fours. Tendrils of darkness slide over my skin. “Shut up.”

“Texas…” Anton whispers his concern.

My head snaps up at his worried tone. “It’s coming.”