House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City, #3)

Her eyes flared as she recognized her sons’ scents. Pure, murderous rage filled her gaze, and Tharion was suddenly very, very glad she was on their side.

So he knew better than to stop Lidia as she emerged from their hiding spot, rounded the corner, and said, power ringing through her voice, “Let them go.”



* * *



Bryce had enough strength to make it to a hall a level above the archives. From there, she and Hunt snuck down on foot, trailing water, as quickly and quietly as they could. She might have pushed herself to teleport them down to the hallway with the firstlight core, but she needed to conserve her strength. Only one Asteri was currently down—

She’d killed Polaris.

The realization kept rippling through her. How it had felt, how Polaris’s blood had felt, showering her, the primal, raging satisfaction in seeing the other Asteri’s outrage as Bryce impaled their sister with the sword and dagger, ignited by Hunt’s Helfire.

And then Polaris had been sucked into nothing.

Into nowhere. The blades, fueled by her starlight and sped along by Hunt’s Helfire, had opened a portal to a place that wasn’t a place.

One Asteri had been banished from Midgard. But would she be lucky enough to get near the others? Now that they knew what she could do, what she bore, they’d avoid her, as they’d avoided Apollion.

The thoughts shot through Bryce’s mind, dread sinking in her stomach, as they ran through the palace.

There was no point in staying hidden. Everyone knew they were here. A nod to Hunt, and her mate blasted open the doors into the archives.

Glass shattered, spraying everywhere, and a shield of Hunt’s lightning kept the shards from shredding them as they raced through it, Bryce leading them toward the door to the hallway where the power of Midgard was held—

The glow of the room spilled up the stairs, leading the way down.

There was no sign of Lidia’s sons. Indeed, the hall was exactly as it had been before. A crystal floor. The seven pipes, each with an Asteri’s name on an engraved plaque beneath, and next to the plaques, small screens showing their power levels.

Sirius and Polaris were now dark. But the others were nearly full.

One of them, the seventh, was at full power. And standing before it was its bearer, smiling faintly at them.

Rigelus.





92


Rigelus unleashed a wall of white-hot power, and Bryce had enough sense to blast up a wall of her own, matching the lightning Hunt hurled between them and the Asteri.

The entire palace above them shook at the impact.

And as it cleared, Bryce drew the Starsword and Truth-Teller. “It didn’t end well for Polaris,” she told the Bright Hand, sending starfire rippling down the blades. “It won’t end well for you.”

“Polaris was weak,” Rigelus said. “And a fool to let you draw close with those blades.” Without warning, he launched his power at them again.

Bryce grabbed Hunt this time and teleported to the other side of the room.

Rigelus’s power hit the stairs behind them, and they buckled. A true blow from the Bright Hand might collapse the entire palace, but that strike still would have seared their skin down to the bone.

“We have to get to that core under the crystal,” Bryce said, and Rigelus attacked again.

“Kill him first,” Hunt grunted, nodding toward the blades in her hands.

“He won’t let us get near enough.” She gathered her strength to teleport them to the core, and Hunt erupted with his lightning as they reappeared, firing right for Rigelus—

It hit a barrier of light and scattered.

“Your lightning,” Bryce said quickly. “It warped stone earlier when you shot it at Polaris. Do you think it can warp crystal?” They stood about thirty feet above the glowing core below. To even get through that block of crystal, they’d need precious, uninterrupted minutes. She’d thought her starfire could eventually chisel away at it, but they didn’t have the luxury of time.

“I need a good shot at the floor—a few, probably,” Hunt said, as Rigelus attacked once more. Again, Bryce teleported. “Can you buy me time?”

Her mouth had dried out, and blood was dribbling from her nose again, but she nodded.

“What is it you’re whispering?” Rigelus said calmly from where he stood in front of the pipes, but Bryce teleported them again.

They appeared right in front of Rigelus, and from his shocked face, he hadn’t expected that. No, he’d thought her power tapped out.

The distraction cost him.

Hunt’s Helfire slammed into the crystal floor. Bryce didn’t wait to see what happened, how Rigelus reacted, before teleporting them back to the center of the room, and Hunt’s Helfire boomed as it collided with the stone, which had indeed warped, and was now splintering under the monstrous heat.

Crystal peeled away, melting.

And beneath it, a tunnel to the core of firstlight began to form.



* * *



The Eternal City was a chaos of brimstone missiles, mech-suits, demons, the Asterian Guard, and every imaginable nightmare. Light and darkness warred across every inch of the city.

But Ithan sprinted through the streets, heading toward the crystal palace. Toward the white light flashing from it like some massive strobe.

It had to be Bryce. But the palace was massive, as big as the Comitium, and to find her in it …

No one had answered his phone calls. With the battle, he didn’t think they would, but he’d kept trying, all the way here on the boat he’d quickly hired, then running from the coast without rest, without food or water.

A brimstone missile sailed overhead, sparking with golden light. It hit a building nearby, and the world ruptured.

Even Ithan, with his speed and grace, was thrown. His bones cracked against the building, the Godslayer Rifle swinging from his shoulder. And something else had cracked behind him, not bone but—

Ithan slid to the ground among the screaming people, reaching for his pack. Frantically, he pulled out the container with the vials of antidote for Bryce and Hunt.

Liquid leaked from them. Only shards of the vials remained.

Tharion had more, but Luna knew where the mer was in this mess. The rifle, at least, was unharmed—scraped up along the barrel, but nothing that would affect its usefulness.

He struggled to his feet, but a strong hand gripped him. Helped him up.

Ithan whirled, teeth out, only to find a human woman standing there, her eyes blazing with determination. And behind her, helping the wounded or running for the battle, were more humans. Some in their work clothes, some unarmed, but all heading for the conflict. For this first and possibly last shot against the Asteri.

And he knew. Bryce’s message hadn’t only been a distraction for the Asteri. It had been a rallying cry. For the people who had suffered most at the Asteri’s hands.

So Ithan began hurtling for the palace again. Past all those humans, valiantly helping and fighting—despite the odds, despite the cost. The antidotes for his friends were gone. But he still had the rifle and its bullet.

Make your brother proud.



* * *



Lidia didn’t bother with bullets. She holstered her gun and drew her sword.

She knew the odds against Pollux. But she’d been studying him for years now. Had learned his moves, his arrogance, his tricks.

She hadn’t let him learn hers.

So Lidia glanced sidelong at Ruhn and said, “Get out of here. This is between him and me.”

She wanted nothing to do with Ruhn. He’d shot her—he’d shot her, in some male fit of dominance, and it had kept her from her sons. She’d never forgive him—

“No fucking way.” Ruhn eyed the two guards flanking her sons. As if he could take them, as if Pollux’s gun wasn’t pointed right at the back of his skull.

It’d be a bullet for Ruhn, but Pollux wouldn’t blast her apart with a gun, or with his power. Not right away. He’d want to bloody her up right. Hurt her slow and hard and make her beg for mercy.

The palace shuddered.

“Lidia,” Pollux said with hideous satisfaction. “You look well for someone who’s been knee-deep in trash lately.”