Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

Ignoring him, she stumbled forward, driven by the need to find Graydon. Debris whistled through the air, shards of bricks and trees turning into deadly missiles as the Djinn’s battle raged overhead.

Inside, hope had twisted into a despairing cry. If she didn’t find Graydon alive, she would lie down right then and there, and die.

Then, as the swirl of running figures parted, she saw two men, sprawled together, covered in blood.

So much blood.

Two tawny heads, so different, and yet so alike. Pain exploded in her chest. Blind to everything else, indifferent to the gargantuan fight tearing apart the night sky, she lunged toward the men.

As she drew close, details struck at her.

Constantine lay on his back. His body was soaked with blood from neck to groin. Graydon crouched over him, cradling the other sentinel’s head in his arms and shielding him from the deadly debris.

Bel fell to her knees beside them. In one horrified glance, she took in Constantine’s handsome, still face, the rictus of agony that twisted Graydon’s. Suddenly there weren’t enough tears in the world.

“Oh, my darling,” she said brokenly.

She gathered Graydon into her arms. He was too big. She couldn’t hold all of him, but, with all the love in the world, she tried.

As soon as she put her hands on him, she sensed his struggle to breathe. It snapped her into knifelike focus. Running a sharp gaze over his hunched figure, she realized that not all of the blood was Constantine’s.

She screamed, “WE NEED A MEDIC HERE!”

Overhead, another colossal concussion blew out with such force, it split the earth. Peacekeepers fell screaming into huge cracks.

She threw herself over Graydon and Constantine to shelter them both. As the concussion dissipated, she realized—one of the Djinn was gone. Staring skyward, she strained to find Malphas, but she couldn’t sense him anywhere.

The overwhelming noise from the howling wind died. She could hear people shouting to each other.

Low, over the water, the ragged presence of a single Djinn drifted, like a ship foundering at sea. It carried a dull, faint thread of Soren’s Power.

Across the beach, where medics were working on Rune, Carling stood. Her voice filled with such Power, the words rocketed down the beach. “Khalil, bring Grace! Your father needs you!”

Bel’s heart pounded. Once. Twice.

It couldn’t have been longer than a moment.

But so very much could be lived, and lost, in a single moment.

Even as the signature whirlwind of an approaching Djinn blew onto the beach, Soren’s thin, ragged presence dissipated into the night with a final sigh.

? ? ?

A thick layer, like cotton wool, surrounded Graydon, disconnecting him from everything else, except Bel.

Shock. Or lack of air.

The broken bones in his chest shifted as he tried to draw in a breath. He thought maybe one of his lungs had collapsed.

She cupped his face, her beautiful eyes fierce and determined. Her lips formed the words, “Hold on, love. You’re going to be okay.”

I am, he thought. I’m holding on.

He clenched one hand on her wrist, held onto Constantine with the other.

His vision narrowed as pain tried to turn the world black, but he fought it off. As he snapped back to consciousness, she was lowering him flat on the ground.

Peacekeepers ran up. Someone tried to pry Constantine from his grip. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl, resisting, until Bel bent over him, her face filling his vision.

She told him gently, “They’ll take good care of him. The very best care. Please, let them help.”

His arms loosened, and they lifted Constantine away. Someone pulled an oxygen mask over his face, while another person cast a spell that took away the grinding pain.

He began to drift again.

“My lady, you need to move away and let us work on him,” said one of the Peacekeepers.

That got his attention. Rousing, he growled. Talons sprang out on his hands, and his teeth lengthened. The medics’ eyes bulged and they pulled back.

“I’m not leaving him,” Bel said. “You’re going to have to work around me.” She bent over him again. “Graydon, do you understand? I’m not leaving you.”

He relaxed, marginally, and nodded. He said in her head, Never leave.

Never again, she told him, stroking the hair back from his face. I swear it. I’ll stay right here with you every step of the way. Trust me.

He did. He trusted her completely. His death grip on her wrist eased enough so that she could twist around and thread her fingers through his.

Blurry, disconnected images blew by, like snowflakes driven on a winter storm.

The dragon arrived, along with the other sentinels. They dropped raging out of the sky. After a quick shocked assessment, they threw themselves into helping, their faces stricken. A Djinn’s presence raged along the beach, causing Graydon’s fight instinct to rouse again until he realized it was Khalil, who also helped, his energy furious and chaotic.

Then somebody said, “One, two . . .”