He glanced down at Brianna, a question in his gaze, and she nodded. They’d done it. They would be okay. “Take care of the others,” she whispered, and he felt her weight pull away. He wouldn’t have let her, but there were so few left standing. He had to do as she wished. Because he knew she’d seen it.
Two more injured shadows rose, and though their healing was not as fast as the Seven, it appeared they weren’t exactly easy to take out. Logan was on the first, fighting despite his wounded hip, and Aern ran for the other. He wrapped a raw, blistered hand around the shadow’s neck, gripping tight regardless of the surge of electricity that was forced through his body, and thrust the impulse to sleep into the shadow. It was incredibly difficult, despite the fact that he’d been able to sway a room full of Seven when Brianna had first given him the ability, but eventually the man gave, falling onto the ground to wait for Emily. Aern turned, finding Logan locked in a fiery hold with the other shadow, and ran to help. Logan roared, heaving the man from the ground to slam him full out on the earth behind them with unreal strength, and both men were on top of him as Emily leapt over Eric and Seth’s spent forms to reach him.
It was minutes later when the last threat of the shadows was removed, when Wesley and Ellin had rejoined the group with new scars of their own, the men on the lawn being helped inside, injuries tended, when Logan stood, glancing around the field as if he’d just come out of a daze, and said, “Where’s Brianna?”
Chapter Twenty-two
Brianna
Brianna stared at the figure in the shadows. She had known it was him, had felt the pull and seen the way the entire field of men had been oblivious to her departure. Aern had a gift, the strongest any of the Seven had seen, but the dark-haired man possessed an entirely different level of skill. He was a shadow. He had kept the whole of them from even looking. She was dead on her feet, in no way capable of defending herself from this man, but she had come regardless. She had come to keep him away from the others, to keep them safe. Because she knew the dark-haired man was stronger than the seven shadows they’d sent to find her.
Her words had not been a lie; she didn’t trust him at all. But he had warned her.
There was another reason Brianna had come, if she was being honest, a reason great enough to make it worth the risk. Because something had happened on the muddy, blood-slicked ground of the lawn. Something had changed in her, for one brief flash of an instant, and she’d felt different.
She’d felt free.
Come to me, the tug said. Closer.
“Why?” Brianna asked into the darkness. “Why are you doing this?”
The dark-haired man didn’t step from beneath the shadows, but she could feel his smile. “To save you, Brianna.”
Her name rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that made her want to go to him and run from him at the same time. He didn’t know her, he didn’t need her, and yet those feelings were there, a caress in his tone that sent unease to the pit of her stomach. She had moved closer without intending to, his low voice drawing her in, and she planted her feet to stare at him. He shifted within the shadows of the thick leaves, the same dark clothing, simple and nondescript. She suspected they were not even close to his normal attire.
“Why?” she repeated.
“Because they will kill you.” He shoved forward, one aggressive step to bring himself within arm’s reach of her, but Brianna didn’t move.
“Who?”
“The others,” the dark-haired man said. “Ancient shadows who want you and your sister removed.”
She leaned closer, a threat, or to entice him, or because she couldn’t help herself, she didn’t know. “Why?”
He sighed, breathing her in, but she was running out of time, her body drained to the point of exhaustion. His hand twitched, a sudden urge to touch her, and then his fingers tightened decisively into fists. His dark eyes came up to meet hers, his tone unexpectedly dropped, solemn. “Because of the prophecy, Brianna. Because you are the daughter of great power.”
Brianna stared at him; all thought of the prophecy dismissed when they’d taken Morgan out of the picture. None of that mattered anymore… none of it except the idea of where the prediction had come from.
The dark-haired man straightened, sliding ever so closer to her. “My name is Callan, Brianna. My father was Acacius; we take our descent from Eadmaer, son of Desiderius.” The name struck Brianna. She couldn’t say why, where she had heard it before, but she had heard it. The dark-haired man let her comprehend that, his gaze tightening on her as he prepared to deliver the final blow. “He was one of the creators of the Seven, Brianna. Father of the dragon line.”
Callan. His forebear is the shadow who created the dragon line, gave them their power. The prophecy. The dragon. Brianna felt her eyelids flutter and bit down hard, refusing to pass out. She breathed through her nose, knowing with absolute certainty that this man was sending her the words, the understanding, with his ability. “Stop that,” she said. “It hurts me.”