Page 253 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

Twenty-Nine

Dominic

T he wayward shadowbloods’ footsteps drum against the hard floor as they gather in the large room. Andreas projects the memory he’s using into my head too—and I assume Griffin’s as well—so we know what our targets are seeing. So we can be prepared for their reactions.

The little girl ducks back behind the cardboard box. The box is really there; she isn’t.

Her whimpers carry through the air. Devon crouches down a few feet from the box and speaks more softly than I’ve heard any of the rogue shadowbloods manage before. “Hey. How did you end up here? We can try to help you.”

The scarred man—the one Griffin said is named Omar—makes a gruff sound. “Ask her if there are more guardians around nearby.”

One of the other teens strides forward with an air of impatience. “Let’s just get her out and get on with this.”

My nerves jangle. It’s only a matter of seconds until they realize the girl is a hoax.

But Zian has been watching from outside the door. As the six shadowbloods who ventured into our room reach the far end of the space, he springs invisibly into action.

With the full heft of his substantial supernatural strength, he plows into the three figures who hung back outside the door, concerned but too wary to actually enter.

The man and the two teens stagger several steps through the doorway, the girl falling to her knees, and Zian yanks the door shut behind him.

The instant it bangs shut, a hissing sound fills the air. I touch my gas mask instinctively, confirming its fit.

With that bulky thing over my face, I’ll look even more like a monster than I normally do, but no one can see me anyway.

Clouds of chemical smoke gush from the two vents we otherwise sealed, triggered by Griffin. I brace myself to jump in for my role in this plan.

A couple of the shadowbloods shout in alarm, but they’re already swaying with the drug’s effects. Rollick helped us pick out one that’s both potent and fast-acting.

We couldn’t have succeeded using this tactic on the full crowd of rogues. In a space big enough that they’d all have willingly come in, we’d never have been able to affect them all in time to prevent a counterattack.

Even now, while the four smallest teens slump on the floor unconscious, the other five figures keep stumbling through the hazy air. Sparks shoot from someone’s fingertips.

We can’t have them fighting while Andreas is working his memory wipes on the others—or worse, bashing their way out of the room into the fresh air. Zian is stationed outside, but he’s got to stay on guard against escapees from both sides.

If we want to save anyone from a worse fate, it’ll be a lot easier if we can keep them contained.

I shove myself forward from the corner I was tucked into with the invisibility Andreas granted me. One of my tentacles wraps around the neck of the kid who was shooting sparks; the other catches Omar by the wrist.

As soon as my suckers connect with bare skin, I’m hauling their energy into my veins. At the same moment, I reach out my hands toward the farther shadowbloods and yank at the thrum of life I can sense emanating from them.

Shadowblood energy comes so quickly, so easily. The thrilling rush sweeps over me from every side. Giddy shivers ripple through my limbs.

An ache forms in my chest to drink in even more. To find out just how good the full force of so many lives at once could feel.

No. I’m not even entertaining that thought. I’m draining them to protect them, not to gratify some selfish urge inside me.

Maybe because I’ve already taken in so much all at once, it’s easier than I expected to detach. As the sparking kid’s knees buckle in a faint, I flick my tentacle free.

Omar sags next, stumbling into the wall and then sliding down it. He jerks his arm against my hold a few times, conjured spurts of ice nipping at my skin, but he’s already so weakened between the drug and the energy I’ve stolen that he doesn’t come close to dislodging me.

I can taste his pulse growing sluggish. I whip the tentacle that gripped him away and whirl toward the spot where a few more of the rogues are still on their feet.

With one last tug at the pulsing thrum inside them, two of them crumple. The last, the remaining man, lunges at me and nearly trips over his feet in his dizziness.

“You,” he snarls out at whatever he can make out of me in the haze. I curl the tip of one tentacle toward his face to drain just a tiny bit more, and then he’s tumbling over on his ass.

I can make out Drey and Griffin vaguely, human-shaped gaps of what looks like empty air in the midst of the clouds. Drey bends over Devon, a hand against the boy’s forehead, performing either his first or his second memory wipe depending on how quickly he’s been able to work.

Griffin has remained in his corner near the cardboard boxes. His voice comes out muffled by his gas mask. “Do the adults next. Once the drug started taking effect, I could calm down the kids a little, but those two stayed pretty angry.”

Andreas nods, sending the haze rippling around the space where his head moved. “Are they all down?”

“I got the ones who resisted the gas,” I say. “I don’t know how long they’ll stay unconscious, but I can drain them a little more if I need to.”

My skin is humming, my pulse twitching with the immense stores of energy I’ve taken into myself. I have the bizarre impression that if I pushed off the floor, I could glide right to the ceiling and float there.

But that’s okay. I only took the energy I had to, nothing more.

I made it possible for us to offer some of the shadowbloods driven out of control by Balthazar’s treatment a fresh start.

Which is a lot better than the murders Riva and Sorsha are having to carry out in the room next to ours.

That thought brings me back to earth with a flip of my stomach. Even if the rogues have gone off the rails, even if it’s clear there’s nothing else we can do for some of them—nothing that would save the people they were intent on murdering… we shouldn’t forget them.

They didn’t deserve to end up this way. It wasn’t really their choice.

All we can do is set things as right as we can. Maybe there was never going to be any perfect solution, even if we’d destroyed Balthazar before he could start building his private shadowblood army.

A faint sense of soothing wraps around me, and my gaze darts toward Griffin’s form in the haze.

He must be picking up on my conflicted feelings.

But the offered calm doesn’t come across as an imposition, only an offer of sympathy and reassurance, as if he’s squeezed my shoulder or offered me a quick hug.

But the building itself isn’t feeling particularly settled. Even as my chest loosens a bit, the floor shudders beneath my feet.

All of our heads jerk toward the door. I can sense Riva’s presence in the gymnasium behind it—I know she’s still inside that vast room, moving around.

What the hell is going on over there?

We can’t let ourselves get distracted. We have to focus on getting our part of this mission done.

Andreas moves from Devon to the man I toppled last. As he leans over the former inmate, the man jerks upright, aiming a wobbly but swift fist at Drey’s invisible head.

Shit! I leap forward, my mind scrambling—he must have only pretended to completely faint.

As Drey reels backward through the clouds of gas, I wrench both of my tentacles forward and catch hold of the man’s life force across the short distance. With a yank, I drain a gulp of his energy straight from his spirit.

The man mumbles a swear word, but he’s already slumping. My nerves jitter with the urge to drain even more. To add to the heady power coursing through me.

No. That’s not what I’m here for.

But I am going to siphon off just a little more, until his pulse is clearly sluggish. I don’t want to take any chances after he’s already fooled us once.

Andreas lets out a rough chuckle. “Thanks, Dom. Fuck, he almost broke my mask.”

His invisible form pushes through the gas to lean over the newly unconscious man. As he reaches for the guy’s forehead, a tremor passes through the haze around him.

My pulse hiccups. “Are you sure you’re okay, Drey?”

Even through the mask, I can hear a rasp in his voice. “Yeah. It’s not the punch—memory-wiping takes a lot out of me. But I expected that.”

If Drey faints or worse before we’re done here, we’ll be screwed.

“You should let yourself turn visible again,” I say. “It takes more energy keeping the effect in place, right?”

“Good point. I guess it doesn’t matter if these guys see me now.”

The haze shudders again, and Andreas’s body swims into view, gradually turning more solid amid the haze. The bow of his shoulders still looks weary to me.

I look over at Griffin again. “Do you think we should clear the gas? Give Drey more air? Rollick said that once the effect took hold, it should last at least an hour.”

Griffin hesitates as he thinks it over. “If I switch the flow, the fans will just suck it all back in. We can always dose them again if we need to.”

He must flick the switch, because there’s a hitch to the faint whir that lingered in the air. The billows of gas start to fade, wafting toward the vents they poured out of.

As the air clears, I study each of the slumped bodies carefully. No one so much as twitches. They’re all out cold for the moment.

But if I catch any sign of movement, I want to intervene before it becomes a real problem.

Another shudder ripples across the floor, with a boom loud enough that it resonates faintly even through the thick walls. My stomach lurches.

A waft of frustration prickles through my chest from the mark that connects me to Riva. Whatever the shadowbloods they tried to trap are doing, it isn’t going smoothly.

I start to pace the room and force myself to stop. Acting anxious is only going to unsettle my friends.