Page 164 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

Thirty-Two

Riva

I hug the earth through another thunder of bullets, grit prickling into my mouth.

Tires are grating against the hard-packed dirt as the trucks grind to a halt. Voices holler unfamiliar words.

And a sliver of pain jabs me right through one of my marks.

Jacob’s mark.

The chill of fear prickles through me. He’s a few hundred feet away, farther down by the buildings and the courtyard—closer to the incoming attackers.

Griffin puts words to my fear where he’s sprawled behind me. “Jake’s hit. Zian too. They’re still conscious. Jake’s more pissed off than worried, but Zee’s panicking a bit.”

Shit. My own worry constricts my insides from my throat down to my gut.

I dare to lift my head to get a look at what’s going on. I only manage to make out a couple dozen figures with massive guns marching toward the courtyard before a few of them aim their weapons at the hillside again.

Bullets batter the soil and the twisted shrubs. Chunks of twig and leaf spray around us—and Lindsay lets out a pained gasp.

I twist toward her as she cringes closer to me. Blood streaks across the side of her arm where one of the bullets hit her.

It doesn’t look serious, but guilt knots my stomach anyway.

“Stay quiet,” I murmur to her urgently. “It’ll be okay as long as we don’t draw more attention.”

Those definitely aren’t any government soldiers come to thank us for our service. They were dressed similarly in earthen tones but nothing like an official uniform.

And I can already hear them yelling at the villagers with hostility rather than relief.

As Griffin shuffles closer to Lindsay with a bandage he’s pulled from his pocket, I peer through the brush again. I have to get to Jacob and Zian—make sure they’re okay, do what we can to pick up the pieces of our mission.

Frustration and fear tangle in my chest to form a prickling vibration. I’ll scream all these assholes who’ve barged in to ruin our victory to pieces.

But when I judge it safe to lift my head so I can stare down into the courtyard, my spirits deflate.

The new arrivals have obviously figured out that something very bad happened to the insurgents who were here first. They’re herding the hostages into the largest of the two-story buildings around the courtyard, shouting and shoving—many of them already inside.

Even with my practice under Clancy’s supervision, I doubt I can keep track of who I’m tearing into with my scream when I can’t even see who I’m aiming it at. I’d end up ripping through a bunch of the innocent villagers too.

Shit, shit, shit .

But if these men are with the first bunch, how long will they wait before they start killing more of the hostages in retribution for our attack? We don’t have time to figure out a new plan.

Behind those walls, they could be slaughtering hostages to hold up as examples right now.

I feel like I’m going to vomit. I still need to reach Jacob and Zian, help them if they need it.

What is Clancy going to do if we have to pull out to get them to Dominic for healing?

Too many thoughts are whirling in my head. Just move—figure it out one step at a time.

I drag in a rough breath and glance at Griffin. “I’m going to the others. Keep making the insurgents as calm as you can manage.”

“Riva—”

I don’t wait to hear what he’s going to say. The seconds are slipping past me—I might already have wavered too long.

The last of the gunmen is disappearing into the building. I heave myself forward, scuttling along the slope staying as low to the ground as I can, following the line of spindly shrubs for the cover they provide.

Jacob hasn’t moved much from where I sensed him before. Hopefully Zian and the younger two are still with him.

I have to run the last short distance from the patches of vegetation to the fence around the sheep pen, and then another short dash to nearest structure by the courtyard. Thankfully, I’ve already passed out of view of the building the terrorists ushered their captives into.

As I sprint to the mud-brick wall, the boom of a single gunshot splits the air from the other direction.

My wince radiates through my body. The scream swells in my lungs, but I don’t have a proper target.

I dash around the corner of the structure—and make out a shed I can sense Jacob is behind up ahead. My footfalls echo the pounding of my heart.

I dart around the shed and freeze with a sharper lurch of my gut.

Jacob is leaning against the side of the shed, looking pissed off just like Griffin said. Blood has pooled beneath his thigh and is seeping through the hasty bandage already wrapped around the wound.

He might not even be able to walk like that.

And Zian looks even worse off. He must have caught a bullet in the side—the hem of his shirt and the left hip of his pants are dark with blood.

Tegan huddles close to him, helping him press a couple of balled bandages to the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. She looks all right.

But George lies in the dust just around the corner of the shed, back of his skull blasted right open, the rest of his white-blond hair drenched red.

Zian somehow looks twice as upset when he takes in my expression. “I’m going to be all right,” he insists with a hint of a growl. “But he—I couldn’t get to him in time…”

Lindsay lifts her head, her wide eyes flicking from him to me and back again. “I think the bleeding is slowing.”

Jacob hefts himself farther upright. “That’s what matters. Just tore up a little muscle on this hulk.”

He taps Zian lightly with his elbow, but his face is tight with concentration. His jaw works when he glances at George’s body.

His expression hardens even more at another crackling gunshot. He catches my eyes. “They’re killing the hostages?”

I nod, my mouth dry. “Must be. I don’t know…”

I don’t know what we do now. I don’t have the slightest clue how to salvage this mission.

For all we know, if we go back in failure and Clancy loses control over the guardianship… the remaining guardians will decide that Engel was right and murder us after all. Or send us off to be lab rats the way Clancy’s always threatened.

But how the hell are we going to take down all those gunmen when only one of us who’s much good at killing anyone has all her flesh intact?

Jacob is still watching me. “You tell us what you need, Wildcat. We’ll do whatever we can.”

None of us can touch the insurgents without getting inside the building. And I can’t see Jacob or Zian launching themselves into a full-out brawl with their injuries.

Which leaves just me.

But how the hell could I manage to take down all of our enemies in an enclosed space without them shooting me first? Without slaughtering all the innocents with them at the same time?

Even if I got in there and brought every supernatural talent I have to bear as quickly as possible…

The quivers of the exhilaration of my last scream still thrum through my veins, but that’s not enough to take on an entire squad of terrorists unscathed.

Not on its own. I need more.

A restless bleat reaches my ears. My head jerks toward the sheep pen.

The bottom of my stomach drops out with the idea that’s just occurred to me.

I can’t deny the solution that’s right in front of me, no matter how horrific I find it. If I have to become more of a monster to save us all, so be it.

I won’t be able to save anyone if the mission completely falls apart.

“I need to see what I’m working with out there,” I say.

Jacob pushes to his feet without another word, gripping the side of the shed for balance so he isn’t putting too much weight on his wounded leg. Zian sways after him.

A protest tumbles from my lips. “You should?—”

Zee shakes his head. “We’re in this together. Like always.”

Tegan looks terrified and fierce at the same time. “I’m coming too.”

The truth is, no matter how powerful I get, I’m not sure I can pull this off alone. So I grasp Jake’s arm to help him, and we shuffle as quickly as the guys can manage through a narrow gap between two of the buildings to where we can peek into the courtyard.

The sheep are pacing in their pen back the way I came from. The building with the hostages stands almost directly opposite it.

There’s a pane-less window on the second floor, large enough that I’m sure my small frame could fit through it without a squeeze.

Two more shots ring out just in the brief moment I’m taking it in. My jaw clenches so abruptly I bite my lip.

I don’t know how easy it’d be able to climb that material, not the same construction as the bricks I tackled before. It might give our enemies enough time to hear me coming and shoot me on sight.

There is another way I could get up there, though.

I jerk my gaze across the bodies of our first targets still strewn around the courtyard. One several feet away has a smaller rifle that looks easier to handle.

I touch Jacob’s arm for his attention. “I need you to pull that gun over here. Once I have it, I’m going to circle around until I’m close to the building they’re in. When I run for it, can you throw me through the biggest window on the second floor?”

Jake blinks at me, his stance tensing. “With that much effort, you know I don’t have the best control. I could hurt?—”

“You won’t,” I interrupt, my tone firm. “Just fling me up there, and I can handle the rest. Once I’m ready.”

Zian frowns. “What are you going to do?”

I can’t bear to answer him.

Jacob extends his power to the gun and drags it over to us. I pick it up, backtrack between the buildings, and dart along a dusty street until I can slip through a passage that takes me within ten feet of the front of my goal.

There, braced between two of the neighboring buildings, I fix my gaze on the sheep and open my mouth.

The shriek seeps out, constrained so it’s low but still piercing. I’m hoping the terrorists won’t notice it.

The hunger inside me squirms eagerly. I aim all its reverberating power at the undeserving livestock across the courtyard.

My scream rips through one animal and another even more easily than it cut down the men before. I shatter their windpipes first to cut off any bleats or groans that might have alerted my next targets.

But only to silence them, not to kill them just yet. I need them to live through plenty more agony if their sacrifice is going to mean anything.

Wrench. Snap. Puncture. Crack. Flesh rent and bones smashed.

Pain floods my chest with each four-legged corpse toppling to the ground—and transforms into a nauseating flare of strength. The sense of power flows through my limbs and tingles all the way up to my scalp.

More and more and more. I’ll need every bit if I’m going to have any hope at all.

I can only imagine the guys staring at the carnage from their vantage point. I hate to think what Tegan is making of the slaughter I’m carrying out.

Blood is starting to creep across the ground beneath the pen’s fence. But there are still a few more sheep standing.

I propel the shriek from my lungs, drinking in every drop of anguish. My body vibrates with the unnerving thrill of it, as if I’ve been lit up with an electric current.

Please, let this be enough. Please, let them not have died for nothing.

The last sheep crumples. I tuck the rifle under my arm and race toward the building before one fragment of the power I’ve dragged into myself can dissipate.

My feet fly across the packed ground faster than I’ve ever felt, even with my usual supernatural speed. The wind warbles in my ears.

I stare up at the window I’m hurtling toward—and Jake is there for me. An invisible force whips me off my feet, straight toward the opening.

Between my speed and his shaky control, my shoulder might have glanced off the edge of the frame, but I twist sideways the second I see the danger. Then I’m careening into a crowded room over the heads of dozens of sitting hostages.

All my instincts spark to life with the hum of bottled power within my body. My hands whip out, and a shriek sears from my lungs.

It isn’t even hard to figure out who my targets are now that I can see them—they’re the only figures standing. I ricochet across the room, each spring of my feet adding to my momentum, and carve a path through them.

Bullets from the rifle I grabbed burst open several skulls. The claws of my free hand slash through one throat and another.

And my scream echoes off the walls, gutting the rest of the insurgents from the inside out.

Several of the hostages yelp or add their own shrieks to the mix, but thankfully they only duck lower. One of the terrorists charges at me, raising his gun, and I lance my scream straight through his innards so he crashes to the ground with a spurt of blood over his lips.

I’m flying, nothing but strength, speed, and fury—but this is only the upper floor. The instant I see the last of the terrorists around me collapse, I throw myself toward the stairwell.

The pain I drank in from the latest targets of my shriek replaces the energy I expended in my attack. I blaze down the stairs and slice through four more militants with my shriek and my gun before anyone below has a chance to think about reacting.

Then the rifle’s trigger gives a hollow click. I toss it aside, rebound off a wall to tear one man’s head right off his body, carve open another with the force of my scream?—

And the front door bursts open.

Zian barrels into the building with a feral roar, his face contorted with its full wolf-man visage. The transformation must have rallied his own strength, because he slams one gunman into the wall and gouges open another’s chest in the space of a blink.

Most of the hostages are crying out now, their terror pricking at me. I can’t imagine Zian likes hearing how our rescue is being received either, but he rampages on, focusing on the insurgents who were gathered around the doorway.

The second he’s tossed the last aside, I let my scream fade just long enough to call out. “Get out of here! Hide in your homes until it’s safe!”

I gesture with my arms at the same time, knowing it’s likely none of them can understand my words. Zian stumbles back out into the courtyard.

The hostages hesitate until I crash into the last remaining terrorist with another vicious shriek. Then they scramble toward the doorway with a babble of panic.

The rush of pain-powered strength ebbs in my limbs. My breath stutters with a jitter of my nerves.

I won’t be able to bring this heightened state all the way back to Clancy—but I have to use it in every way possible while I can.

Bending down, I smash my fist across the monitoring band clinging to my ankle.

I have just enough pain-driven might left to crack the metal and then to yank the band the rest of the way off me. I stomp on it to a sizzle of sparks.

We can tell Clancy it was destroyed in the fight. Technically that’s even true.

When we meet him again, I don’t want him to have a single clue what’s going on inside me.