Page 238 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

Nineteen

Riva

I don’t realize that I seem to have forgotten how to blink until a burn spreads across my eyes. I shake myself, but my gaze veers right back to the computer screen.

I’d thought watching the destruction Balthazar orchestrated was awful. Somehow the scenes playing before us now are even worse.

We started with the official news broadcasts on the TV. Like with Balthazar, those images showed only the aftermath of the attacks.

The footage veered across a squad of soldiers reduced to a jumble of bodies, silver-and-iron helmets streaked burgundy with dried blood.

More corpses, wearing civilian clothes, sprawled in a haphazard ring with weapons intended for shadowkind—crossbows with iron bolts, blades formed out of silver—jabbed into their bodies at odd angles like some kind of horrific modern art installation.

It was after the third scene like the latter when Sorsha made a rough sound where she’d been scrolling through less-formal news sources on the laptop at a nearby table.

All of us—Firsts, our few rescued younger shadowbloods, Rollick, Billy, and a dozen materialized shadowkind with who knew how many more peering from the shadows—turned toward that.

As the first shaky video recording from the cellphone of a nervous witness played across the screen, I found myself flanked by Andreas on one side and Griffin on the other. Jacob’s outrage vibrated from his rigid frame where he’d positioned himself behind me.

Drey’s arm is still tucked around mine, Griffin’s hand on the small of my back. Maybe to steady me; maybe just to remind me that they’re here with me.

But it’s not me I’m worried about.

The cellphone footage might be crude, but it shows the story of the attacks well enough.

We can hear the panic in the rasped breaths as one near-victim huddles in the hasty shelter they found, their chest hitching as the shadowbloods who’ve descended on the amateur militia snap bones and stomp flesh.

We watch the video tremble with another’s muffled sobs.

There’s no mistaking who the attackers are.

They appear to have started their attacks yesterday in what was the early evening in the United States—past midnight for us here in Spain.

But even as the dusk darkened into night for the later assaults, the glow of security lamps or fallen flashlights catch off the faces.

I catch glimpses of the thug with the skull-and-snake tattoo, the one with the scarred brow, and a couple of the others who formed Balthazar’s human shield. I spot Tegan’s pale face, and other kids whose names I never learned.

Then Nadia’s statuesque frame rushes by, flares of searing light yellowing her brown skin. Devon’s teeth flash somewhere off to the side as he lets out a vengeful cry.

We don’t even need to ask why they’re doing it. The criminal shadowbloods bellow their accusations between bursts of violence.

“You thought you could destroy the monsters, huh? You never met monsters like us.”

“You wanted this fight—now you’re getting it.”

“This fucking country belongs to us as much as it does to you!”

“I’m done with getting shot at.”

A few steps away from me, Zian shakes his head in hopeless confusion. “But… all those people were hunting shadowkind , not shadowbloods. And Balthazar told them to do it!”

Dominic’s mouth has flattened into a stiff line. “Who knows what he told the shadowbloods to encourage them to launch the first attacks? And technically those squads did want to kill the shadowbloods—they wanted to destroy the ‘monsters’ that bashed up their cities.”

An ache has clogged my throat. My voice rasps before I can force any of it out. “If the shadowbloods had just stayed hidden for a while—if there hadn’t been any more attacks with Balthazar gone, the hostility would have died down. Everyone would have dismissed the idea of monsters again.”

Rollick is leaning against the back of the sofa in a typically disaffected pose, but his tone holds none of its usual nonchalance. “I don’t think your counterparts wanted the violence to die down. They’re reveling in the excuse to deal out punishment.”

I swallow hard, the images of the younger shadowbloods flashing through my mind. The hatred and the fury showing in every expression, every motion…

I know how much anger a person can bottle after a life full of imprisonment and torture.

I remember how easy it was for me to extend that anger beyond my immediate captors to all the regular people who turned a blind eye to Balthazar’s machinations, to the spectators who came to watch me forced into cage fights.

We’ve been treated like monsters since we were born. Like slaves only worthy of fighting other monsters. We haven’t been taught to do a whole lot other than fight.

When we were on Clancy’s island, I tried to give the kids visions of a different future to reach for. A dream of freedom and peace. But I failed to get us there, over and over.

Then Balthazar swept in and fueled their rage. Enhanced their abilities so they could fight and win against anyone. Didn’t give a shit when his gift frayed their tempers and messed with their sense of reality.

He lit a different flame of hope for them, yes—a hope that they could conquer anyone who’d ever want to hurt them. And now that fire is burning out of control.

As queasy as it makes me to see the results, I can’t claim I’d have been immune. There was a time in the villa when I felt so helpless and enraged that even my guys were scared of me.

I did slaughter an entire audience of cage-fight fans, most of whom had never done anything at all to me other than show up to watch that night’s battle.

Billy shivers where he’s hugging himself off to the side of the crowd around the laptop. “Why did they go back to America to do all this?”

I can understand that motivation too, more than I like. “That’s where we were raised. I think where Balthazar took the criminals from too—the ones I’ve heard talk all sound American. The people back home are the ones who fucked them up or failed them the most.”

Steel spins toward Sorsha with a glint of his metallic scales. “Why didn’t you destroy them all when you had the chance, phoenix? They were right there in front of you.”

Sorsha gives him a firm look. “Between all the powers getting thrown around, I couldn’t see what I was doing. I might have burned up our friends here too.”

Fang lets out a growl, his lips drawing back from his jutting teeth—which I now know belong to his monstrous bear form. “You should have incinerated the helicopter with the maniac and the rest before it even landed.”

“Balthazar had some of the kids on there,” I protest.

Willow the nymph swivels to face me, her thin face tight. “Does it matter? It looks as if the young ones are enjoying the destruction just as much as the grown-ups.”

My stomach churns. I can’t deny that. But… “They are kids. They’ve been screwed over their whole lives, and Balthazar’s messed them up even more. It isn’t their fault. We’ve got to help them snap out of it.”

Steel lets out a dismissive huff. “I think it’s gone past that. Who knows what they’ll do or who they’ll target when they’re done with the hunters? Balthazar wanted to kill all of us .”

Shanty appears from the shadows with a jerk of a nod. “Yes. These hybrids seem to be so fond of him now. They could take up his cause.”

Snap glances around at us from his position next to Sorsha, his green eyes gone wide. “And even if they’re only attacking mortals now, that isn’t okay either. The mortals are only hunting shadowkind because they’re scared—because of what Balthazar told them and did—right?”

Crag’s rocky gargoyle jaw works as if he’s chewing over his thoughts. “Whoever the shadowbloods are hurting, they’ve got to be stopped. It’s bad for everyone.”

Fang nods with a jerk. “We have to do what should have been done to begin with. Find them and blast them all away.”

“Hey!” Booker breaks in with a quaver in his voice but his expression fierce. “My girlfriend is one of those shadowbloods you’re talking about. She wouldn’t be doing any of this if Balthazar hadn’t injected her with his crazy serums. A few weeks ago, she was one of the kindest people in the world.”

Beside him, Ajax is still staring at the laptop screen, even though the current video is paused on a muddle of indistinct shapes. His dark eyes look haunted. “I never saw Devon purposefully hurt anyone the whole time I knew him.”

He yanks his gaze away so he can frown at the shadowkind. “This isn’t who they are. It’s like… like they’re sick. You have to give them a chance to get better.”

Shanty throws her hands in the air with a shake of her dark blue locks. “With what cure? We don’t know how to fix them.”

I lift my head. “We have to try. We owe them that much. The criminals—it seems like they were horrible people before Balthazar took them. I’m not saying we try to reason with them. But the kids are victims here just like the people they’re attacking, just like they’ve always been.”

Willow fixes me with her penetrating gaze. “You’ve been saying that all along—that the kids need to be saved. This is where it’s gotten us.” She waves toward the screen. “How much more harm are you going to let them do?”

Jacob pushes forward to glare at her. “None of this is Riva’s fault. We’re all doing the best we can—at least, the six of us have been.”

I grasp his arm to get him to back down. Guilt condenses in my gut.

The nymph isn’t wrong. I’m the one who’s advocated for the younger shadowbloods the most, who’s argued the loudest whenever any of the shadowkind expressed doubts about rescuing them.

If I hadn’t insisted so adamantly that Sorsha be careful and avoid the kids, she probably could have ended this catastrophe yesterday, when it would have been so much less of a disaster. When the dozens of people now dead were still alive.

But I still can’t quite convince myself that it’d be better if the many dead had included Nadia’s charred corpse—and Devon’s and Tegan’s. And all the other kids, some not even in their teens yet, that Balthazar transformed into his greatest weapons.

“We haven’t really tried to fix things,” I say. “Not since we realized how badly Balthazar messed with the younger shadowbloods. We know what we’re dealing with now. There has to be a way to stop them without murdering every shadowblood other than us.”

Fang snorts. “And how do you figure you’re going to find that way? How long are you going to let them keep rampaging around while you think about it?”

I square my shoulders, my heart thudding faster. “We know where they are now. It looks like they’re sticking together—the attacks were all at different times, following a fairly straight path across the country, weren’t they?”

By the computer, Sorsha nods. “It looks like they’re traveling from one place to another as a pack, tracking down the groups of hunters.”

Her expression is tense, but she holds her posture steady, looking ready to leap into action when I say how I think we should handle this—regardless of what the shadowkind think.

If we still have her on our side, that’s something.

Girding myself, I seek out Rollick’s gaze at the edge of the crowd.

“The six of us—and anyone else who’s willing to help and follow our lead—will head back to the States.

We can predict where the other shadowbloods are headed.

We’ll stop the attacks, take out the former inmates, and do whatever we can to get through to the kids. ”

The corner of Rollick’s mouth lifts in a slanted smile. “It sounds like you have your plan all worked out. You don’t need permission from me. But I assume you could use a method of transportation.”

I shrug awkwardly. “Unfortunately, we can’t just leap through a portal.”

“My private jet is getting quite a workout these days.” He dips his head to me. “We can set off as soon as you say the word. I wouldn’t mind getting back to my usual turf myself.”

“I’m in,” Sorsha says without hesitation.

Snap sets a possessive hand on her shoulder and looks toward his friends. “We go where Sorsha goes.”

I turn to check with my guys. Every one of them looks back at me with total resolve.

“We’re not going to let those kids down,” Zian rumbles, his dark gaze stormy.

Please, may that be true—and may we save them without letting down a whole lot of other people who don’t deserve to die either.