It felt like we fell for a year, but it couldn’t have been more than a second. We did a three-sixty in the air. I saw a flash of dark eyes. Death grabbed hold of my shirt and threw his fist at my face, but I didn’t feel it. We crashed into rocks—a punch I felt everywhere. I couldn’t believe he was hitting me as we were falling. But that could’ve been because I was hitting him, too.
We went airborne for another second, then struck rock again. My shoulder took the brunt of our combined weight, pain exploding in my socket, rattling all the way down into my hand. My grip gave and the tire iron clanged away.
Our fall descended a few more levels before the slope decreased, putting us into a tumble. I took a hit to the temple that blacked out my vision for an instant. My hands found his neck and I pulled him into a chokehold. But then his fist smashed into my ear and stunned me, and I let him go. When we finally reached flat terrain we flew apart and came up lunging. I remembered a takedown I’d learned in combatives training and tackled him. I thought I had him down, but he buried his knee into my stomach and flipped me onto my back.
We went on like this for a while. Beating the hell out of each other. Part of me was surprised as it was happening. I didn’t lose fights. In RASP, we’d do this thing called the beef circle, where the cadre would get the class circled up and we’d battle it out, man-to-man, clearing the air of any animosities building up between us with some grappling. I almost never lost in those, even against the bigger, older guys. I’d get worked over pretty good. But I never tapped out. I’ve just always had another gear in a fight.
But, Death. He was strong and fast and relentless. Even when I’d manage to pin him, I couldn’t keep him there. He was ferocious and I was taking a beating, but it only spurred me on. Because seriously? I was War. My pride was on the line.
“Stop!” Daryn’s voice broke into the night. “Gideon! Marcus!”
We flung ourselves away from each other, a human supernova. Panting for breath, standing at a safe distance, we eyed each other. He stood awkwardly, favoring his left leg. I was favoring the entire right side of my body. My ears rang. My knuckles throbbed. Blood gushed from my nose and ran into my mouth.
Sebastian stood next to Daryn, looking concerned.
I leaned over and spat onto the dirt. “You knew his name?” I asked her.
At the same time Death, Marcus, said, “How do you know my name?”
CHAPTER 25
I took him in at a glance—black, my height, ripped. Hair as short as mine, shaved almost to the scalp. Worn-out clothes. Cuff on his wrist. A pale cuff—that was all I could tell. Right guy, unfortunately.
“I’m sorry about him,” Daryn said.
I looked at her. Him was me? She was apologizing to Death about me?
“We just came here to talk,” she continued. “We didn’t mean to scare you or to get. Into. A fight.”
She said the last part like, Gideon is ruler. Of. The idiots.
“Who are you?” Death asked her.
“I’m … I’m Daryn. Marcus, I think you’re…” She glanced at me, then at Sebastian, clearly struggling to explain. How often did she have to do this? Fit the incredible into words? “You’re involved in something that we know about.”
“Nuh-uh.” Marcus shook his head. “You don’t know nothin’ about me.”
“Just shut up and listen to her,” I said.
“Man, who’re you telling to shut up?”
His tone. The hatred in his eyes as he looked back at me. I couldn’t accept them.
I charged him. He backed away, dodging aside. Why? Why dodge now?
Then I realized I’d made a huge mistake.
A cold burn seeped into my fingers and my feet. It spread through my hands like ice water moving into my arms and legs. I locked up. The ground beneath me began to pull away, and a crack split across the desert soil. It went wider and wider, showing a gap in the earth that was endless. My shoes perched on the edge. Any breath I took, even the slightest twitch, would send me over and I’d fall. I’d never stop falling.
I started shaking, quaking down to my bones. I’d never shaken out of fear before but my body rang like a bell, totally beyond my control.
“Gideon?” Daryn’s voice was far away. “Marcus, stop!”
This was it. Death’s ability.
Fear.
I considered opening up the rage floodgates on him, but what good would it do to make him more aggressive?
Daryn was yelling for him to stop. She took a few steps toward Marcus, then staggered and came to her knees. She clutched her stomach, hugging herself, and started to rock. “No,” she said. “No, no, no. Please, no.”
Anger consumed me like nothing I’d ever felt before. Burning rage that shot through my cold, shaking muscles. The ice that had trapped me splintered, no room for it anymore. Not with the rage roaring through me. The crevasse disappeared in front of me, sealing closed, and I felt power—true power stirring inside me. A singular purpose. Determination to do what was right, what was necessary—and what was necessary right then was to help Daryn.
And I felt something else, too. Something in my hand that hadn’t been there a second ago.
A sword.