“Yeah, well – fight’s not over.” He pushed himself off the ground, panting, then stumbled again.
“Rest up,” I said. “It’s hot as hell here – literally – but we don’t have a damn choice unless someone puts Mammon’s fires out.”
Someone put Mammon’s fires out. A hail of ice was falling from the sky, pummeling and beating back the flames, until the green of greed’s hellfire was replaced with the green of Luella Brandt’s lawn. Or at least what was left of it.
The Scion shouted for his Hands to cross the not-moat now that the flames had cleared – except that there was a very pissed off werewolf standing in their way. Gil raked at them with his claws, snapped with his teeth, and backed by Romira’s fire, they bought enough time for Herald to make his move. He sprinted across the scorched, muddied grass, his shoes sploshing with every step, and he practically threw himself at me.
“Dustin,” he said, grasping me by the shoulders. “Are you all right? Jesus, you’re bleeding.”
“Help him first,” I croaked, pointing at Mason, pretending I was going to be okay.
Mason forced another laugh. “Is your boyfriend always this dumb?”
Herald chuckled under his breath. “Don’t talk about your father like that.”
Mason grimaced. “Gross.”
Tendrils of violet energy sank through my clothes and into my skin. I couldn’t very well see past all the blood, but I felt the hole in my chest stitching back together, if only a little. The pain was still there, but thanks to Herald, I knew I wasn’t going to bleed to death. I just had to be careful not to rip myself open in whatever was left of this ridiculous fight.
“My hero,” I muttered, pulling on the back of Herald’s neck, planting a tentative kiss on his cheek.
Herald scoffed good-naturedly, then looked me in the eyes with a hard expression. “That stuff that happened just now, with the Dark Room? We’ll talk about that later.”
“I love you?” I said, as if that was enough of an apology and an explanation.
Herald harrumphed.
“You guys are so sweet,” Mason said. “Now fucking help me, please, I can barely breathe.”
Herald placed a glowing hand on his chest. “Exertion. You’ve taxed yourself too much. I don’t know how you celestials work, exactly, but if it’s anything like magic, you’ve probably pushed your limits.”
Mason chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”
Those limits were being tested all across the board. Bastion and the others were only just keeping our enemies busy, and Gil and Romira were making good progress
with taking out the Scion’s Hands, but I’d been spotted.
“He’s alive,” the Scion shouted, his face turning red. What I wouldn’t have given to punch the teeth right out of his stupid face. A Sneaky Dustin Special, I thought – fade into the shadows, then drop on him with a kick to the face or the back of the head – but then I remembered that it was the Dark Room that got us into this whole mess to begin with.
“Come on,” I said. “We’ve got to beat these bastards back. The Lorica basically framed me, and those Society people – I think they want Delilah.”
“None of those words make sense to me,” Mason said, grunting as Herald helped him to his feet. “But point me at something and I’ll beat it senseless.”
“I like this kid. He’s got spunk.” Herald patted him on the back. “Let’s go fuck up some cultists.”
And trust me when I say that I was more than prepared to bring the fire. I went charging in. A little too reckless, you might think, but I was already being careful by limiting myself to the flames, keeping things safe. That was the best thing about the Society – for all the magical wands and artifacts they had access to, it seemed as if none of them had given much thought to how very flammable their uniforms were.
The first cultist I set on fire screamed in a most satisfying way when I hurled a mass of flame at his chest. The second was more restrained, maybe because I started at the hem of his robe, but fire is fire. Everyone burns in the end. If we scared them off, I thought, then all that left was the Scion and his lackeys.
Except he’d been dealt with, too. Herald and the others had taken down the Hands, leaving just the Scion and a couple of straggling Wings. I didn’t know what that meant for Romira and the others, but Jonah was in the wrong. Surely the Heart would listen to Bastion and Royce over a Scion gone rogue.
Bastion roared in frustration as the Wings whisked their master away, vanishing. With thinned numbers, our remaining enemies in the Society turned to each other nervously. I rushed for the last ones standing, my fists bathed in flame.
“It’s done,” one of the cultists shouted as he attempted, then failed to fire a shot from his wand. It was spent. “We need to leave.”
“We must,” said another. “She’s awake.”
I was close enough to hear, and nearly close enough to ask. What did they mean? Delilah had been awake this whole time, probably somewhere in the foyer safe under Luella’s protection. I let out a battle cry as I leapt for the cultists, my fist upraised.