Page 69

Malice

Warnings roar behind them, demanding they cut the shit and give up because enough damage has been done to sacred ground. To escalate this mayhem instead of waving a white flag endangers The Archives.

How fucking smart of these royal shitheads to finally remember this landmark’s worth.

Hypocritical runs a close second after they turned the Illuminated Manuscript Gallery into a wasteland.

Malice and Wonder weren’t exactly innocent there either, but the concepts of survival and running for their lives is a pretty decent excuse.

If one thing trumps books, it’s fucking breathing.

If he were alone, Malice might turn himself in. If only to be spontaneous and see where that cliffhanger leads. But since Wonder’s presence is a reality, and since he knows what they’ll do to her if they get captured, nope. He’s jetting, and he’s taking his wildflower with him.

They blow past compartments packed with books, foils and engravings flashing a million letters from either side. In the labyrinthine stacks, the first bowstring vibration perks his ears. The reverberation hisses through the lanes, enhanced by footfalls charging with the speed of asteroids.

The nocked weapon crackles like a smoldering object. It’s the noise of a gold moonstone arrow. A second later, the cloaked ruler steps into Malice’s periphery, the fucker’s longbow taking aim.

Wonder shrieks a warning. Malice dives, evading the projectile as it skims the air. Tumbling like a goddamn log, he rolls to a halt, then surges on bended knee beside his favorite goddess and her Guide.

Sadly, he’s short a weapon. But thankfully, his companions are armed to the teeth. The females fire, quartz and brass archery blocking more blows and knocking a handful of assholes off their haunches.

A lower-ranking arrow lances across the distance, heading for Wonder’s skull.

With a savage growl, Malice catches the object in his fist mid-flight, spins the shaft in his fingers, and hurls it back the way it came.

The weapon shears through the wielder’s cranium and lodges there like a spike.

Red sprays the air, and the hemorrhaging deity topples in a heap.

Swerving, Malice crooks his free fingers at a second assailant, daring them to try that shit again.

Because the enemy doesn’t know what’s good for them, they take him up on the offer.

Malice wheels out of the way, a flying weapon narrowly missing his stomach at close range, then he rotates in reverse, taking the sharp-shooter’s arm with him.

With the opponent’s hand gripping an arrow, Malice cranks their wrist at a warped angle, the maneuver snapping bones.

With a rapid jolt, Malice jams the arrowhead through the attacker’s throat, then shoves the limp body aside.

This rampage continues with more figures attempting to get near Wonder.

Malice ducks, slashes, and impales. During a fleeting break in the onslaught, he catches the goddess’s eye.

Covered in more blood than a vampire, he probably looks as satanic as most accuse him of being.

And fine. He doesn’t need a mirror to guess his leer teeters on the edge of sanity, baiting the legion of court members, deities, and keepers as if this a dodgeball competition.

His gaze skewers from one face to the next.

It’s been a while, but he recognizes the repository warden.

The perpetually constipated male always scowled whenever Malice entered the library, as if Malice’s toxic aura would contaminate the place.

Though, he’d once seen the same man greet Wonder with a broad grin.

And there’s Hope and Joy, who must be in The Dark Fates for an intermission from servitude. The goddesses wear tunics and leggings woven of starlight, with gem embellishments pinned in their hair. Pretty sparkly for a mob. Seems like Merry would fit in.

The females brace themselves, hedging before brandishing their archery.

Wonder had said her crewmates failed to recruit them, having called out to both and receiving no reply.

Based on Wonder’s wounded flinch, The Court chose their defenses selectively, enlisting subjects with whom Wonder has a connection, the ones it would hurt her to battle against.

Motherfuckers. It’s a strategic move out of Malice’s own playbook.

But while the realization incites a pained expression, it also pumps his resilient goddess with defiant energy.

Surging to her feet, Wonder turns up her chin and yanks on the waistband of Malice’s jeans until he twists.

They keep running with Harmony, dodging arrows of moonstone, marble, copper, and a dozen other sources.

The Chamber quakes from top to bottom, book spines jostling from their shelves.

Ahead, the lane splits like the prongs of a fork.

On instinct and lacking the time to choose unanimously, each of them takes a different route.

Shit. Malice races down the center aisle, paranoia over Wonder climbing across his ribcage.

If they fucking touch her, he’ll uproot this building with everyone trapped inside.

Vaulting into the constellation ethics branch, Malice catches up to his goddess, relief pulling a hissing noise from his lungs as they steer their assailants west. Arriving at the correct passage of stacks, Wonder jerks on a sequence of titles, the order of which causes the bookcases to rotate like doors, rearranging their positions and changing the surrounding layout.

Based on the grunts, she’s caught their adversaries by surprise, hemming them in with unexpected dead-ends. Although the enemy probably knows this trick, they also hadn’t anticipated it.

Malice and Wonder pump their limbs, flying down the new route. Figures sweep in and out of his vision, shadows brandishing longbows, crossbows, and blades. Spotting their quarry, they chant orders and bellow directions.

An unrecognizable deity-in-training rounds a corner, blocking Wonder’s path. She barrels toward the cocksucker, then slides on her hip, knocking the god from his stance like a bowling pin. The male topples, and so does his archery, which doesn’t fucking belong to him.

She lurches to her feet and swipes up the weapons just as Malice gains her side.

He catches the poplar bow and quiver Wonder tosses his way, then scans the arrows’ two-pronged fletchings.

Silly rulers. They must have given his archery to an unknown wielder for safekeeping, but more likely to taunt Malice until he got pissed off enough to make a mistake.

Grinning, Malice mashes his heel into the male’s jugular. “Nice try, mate. But you messed with the wrong goddess.”

“My pleasure,” Wonder obliges, breathless and sweeping a lock of hair from her face.

Arrows rain from above. Malice snatches Wonder’s hand, and they haul ass for another shelf. Stumbling in front of a cylindrical bookcase, he rearranges three titles, steps jutting from the facade and winding around the column. The ascent leads to the network of bridges in the funnel’s center.

Wonder’s eyebrows pinch together. Later, she’s going to demand he explain how he discovered this. In the meantime, gratitude and envy sneak across her features. Amused, Malice tosses her a smug grin, to which she makes a face.

“You had better not be keeping score,” she cautions.

“Who? Me?” he asks, planting a hand on his chest, then jerking his head toward the book steps. “Move it, beautiful.”

“No,” she protests, pulling back. “Harmony. I won’t leave her!”

“And I won’t fucking leave you! Move!”

Another shower of arrows forces her into motion.

They pound up the steps and cannon across a bridge leading to other stairways and levels.

Reacting in tune with each other, they swerve, duck, and block attacks.

A white moonstone arrow grazes Malice’s wound, blood spewing, pain shredding through him.

Then a green one slices past Wonder’s neck, etching a red line across her flesh.

They make it to the top level, but stall abreast of the exit. The Fate Court stands vigil, each member posted along the funnel railings’ circumference, surrounding Malice and Wonder.

Shit. The sovereigns draw. A circle of arrows takes aim.

Malice and Wonder sprint, which prompts the monarchs to shoot, which triggers another crossfire.

It was worth a try. Stopping and positioning themselves back-to-back, they loose their own projectiles, quartz and poplar flying.

Then they switch positions, bowing and aligning their spines again, hindering incoming strikes.

All the while, they maneuver closer to the exit.

The iridescent goddess watches with that ever-present gleam of intrigue. The female isn’t firing as aggressively as the others, nor as swiftly.

Wonder’s frantic gaze searches the abyss dappled in sterling light from the overhead sphere. “Where’s Harmony?”

They catch a glint of brass, the longbow poised in the mentor’s grip. On aerial feet, the elder steals behind the cloaked god, cranking her arm in position to thwart the ruler and protect her pupil.

Malice’s gaze narrows. Because what Harmony doesn’t see is the ruler’s eyes slanting downward in awareness.

“No!” Wonder screams.

The male spins, his longbow primed. Wonder looses her arrow before the god has fully rounded on Harmony, the quartz tip vaulting into the male’s tailbone.

Some type of armor underlayer blocks the weapon, its magnitude knocking him off balance.

His chest thrusts outward, and his spine snaps into a backward arc, the collision flinging his arms up as he releases the arrow.

The bow swings, sending the gold moonstone projectile into vertical flight. Everything ceases, the combatants going still, dozens of heads tilting to follow the trajectory.

If it were a deity’s weapon, it might not be an issue. But the arrow of a court member is infused with greater power. Therefore, it’s dire.

Malice and Wonder aim their bows to strike, to derail the projectile. But it’s too late. They watch, helpless as the gold shaft vaults into the astral sphere’s heart and disappears with a flare.

They shove one another across the bridge, then dive for the landing, smacking the ground as the Chamber trembles.

Then it quakes. The world explodes, shards of light falling, glittering like ice.

The complex ruptures, bookcases capsizing and secrets crashing to the ground.

Chunks of the fortification plummet while levels buckle, splitting in half and emitting the loudest roar in history, the commotion splitting his ears.

Ah. Fuck.

Malice seizes Wonder’s hand as the floor vanishes beneath them.