But he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring toward what was left of the warehouse, a large open space that no longer held pillars and boxes. It was metal framework and busted block; it was a broken ceiling and bits of sky. And it was darkness, a creeping, terrifying sense of certain death. He had to have felt it, too.
Brianna opened her mouth to speak, to say some last, confidence-inducing words, but they caught in her throat as the steel-framed shipping containers began to slide slowly across the floor. They made a low grating noise, crawling toward her, and then their speed progressed, altering the growl of metal and concrete into an ear-splitting screech. The wind followed, rising from the floor in a steady gust that swelled into a gale. Her sense of dread increased with the current, her skin burning as bits of debris, sand, and stone rushed past. It was then that she smelled it, the strange, stinging sensation of sulfur, like a freshly lit match.
She was drawn to it, unable to look away, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Emily waiting. Brianna had explained to the others, told them what to expect. These shadows were not here to talk. They wouldn’t make a show of this. They were only here to watch her die.
But Brianna hadn’t explained everything. She hadn’t told them her plan. Lacing her fingers tighter in Logan’s, she walked forward, pressing hard against the onslaught of wind and stone. At the far side of the building, the walls began to rip free, torn away from the structure as if a tornado pulled at them. It was a solid roar, but this was no storm. The sky was bright, an approaching brilliance that only magnified the scale of what was coming. She knew they weren’t doing it to scare her. They didn’t care about the others, didn’t care if the outside world would see. It was over for them. This was their endgame, their chance to take the prize.
They weren’t there to put on a display or boast of their power. They only wanted the lot of them visible, Brianna and Emily out in the open.
To make easier targets.
The destruction grew closer, throwing concrete and trees, everything in its path outward, and Brianna knew she didn’t have more than a few seconds. She turned to Logan, hand still clasped within his, and said, “It’s time.”
He looked at her then, taking his eyes off the approaching threat, and in that instant, that one shared moment of understanding no longer than the blink of an eye, something struck his chest.
Logan was thrown to the ground, the force of it pulling Brianna with him. Their hands remained connected, his grip dragging her nearly on top of him. She landed hard, slamming a knee into the cement floor, and her free hand caught his side, keeping her head from hitting as well. She stared at his chest, unable to see a wound or rend, but he didn’t move. She felt the pulse of him, the grip of his hand and the network of fibers within, mending, working to bring him back to her.
She glanced up, seeing for the first time the shadows in the here and now.
Chapter Thirty-three
Brianna
They were taller than she expected, more solid. The visions had come so quickly that she’d not had time to focus on their actual appearance. Dark hair and hard lines, unaged skin flawless beyond their power to heal. Their eyes were also dark, but something radiated from within. Something powerful, molten.
She forced her gaze from that stare, taking in their forms. One was lean and fit, out of place in his custom tailored suit. It was like watching a millionaire stand in the middle of a hurricane, unruffled as the wind licked at the hem of his sport coat. The second was thicker, broad shoulders sharp against the backdrop of sun and sky. They moved coolly, with purpose. Entirely in control.
It reminded Brianna of Callan, so sure of himself, confident, completely unemotional, and she hesitated, her palm pressing on Logan’s chest. It only took that one instant, that one flash of uncertainty to change everything. A wave of visions so horrifying they stole her breath slammed into her, knocking her back to the floor. There was death and blood, thousands of bodies strewn slipshod through the streets, fire and destruction, the complete ruin of government and structure and basic life. They didn’t want to just rule, they wanted to destroy, to bring things to their archaic state, where the shadows held domain over everything. Where the humans, the Seven were of no consequence at all.
Where there was nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
A wave of nausea, an all-encompassing impression of defeat tried to overwhelm her, to press her down into darkness and crush her beneath its weight. She was drifting, losing all that held her in place, until he clutched her, squeezing so tight that she couldn’t help but acknowledge his presence. Logan. It was Logan. She grasped at his hand, clung to his connection like it was the only thing keeping her alive, the only thing saving her from drowning in that unknown.
Because it was.
She didn’t have a moment to realize what was happening, that they were pushing her to do this, that the dread was not her own. All she could do was move forward, to drag herself free of that burden and shove every ounce of energy she could muster into completing her task. Logan.