“Are you okay?” Andy asks; he’s breathing heavily.
“Yes! You?”
He nods once.
“I’m going to check to make sure they’re all dead,” I say. “I need to find my Glock. One of them took it from me.”
He nods once, holstering his gun. Andy starts to make his way down.
I put a bullet in the skull of the one Andy stabbed. You can never be too sure. I go straight to Gaia and do the same with her. Once I’m satisfied, I holster my pistol and begin the search for my gun. I find a pile of clothing and items in the far corner. There are purses, wallets, jackets, and other miscellaneous items. The clothing is ripped up and bloody. I shudder thinking of the people these things must have belonged to. The centaurs’ victims. We won’t be able to process the scene. In fact, we need to get the hell out of here before the police show up.
“All dead?” Andy asks. He has a sheen of sweat on his brow.
“Yep.” I give him a tap on the side of his arm. “You saved us. I’m so damned sor—”
“Let’s get out of here.” He smiles. “I’ll let you apologize plenty for this…trust me. I won’t let you live this one down,” he says, picking up a slow jog to the warehouse door. He pushes the door open, checking both ways before gesturing for me to follow.
“I’m going to get her,” I vow; there’s a growl to my voice.
“That’s another thing you have coming your way.” He glances back at me. “Plenty of ‘I told you so’s’,” he chuckles. Andy trips and falls to one knee.
I laugh softly. “You’re getting old.” It’s a running joke between us on account that Andy turned thirty last month. He’s old. I’ll still be in my twenties for another two whole years. Young.
He chuckles and tries to get to his feet but falls again.
“Andy!” I can hear the shock in my voice. I’m frowning heavily. “Are you okay?” I grip him by the arm.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” he says.
No!
He tries to get up a third time, he’s using me for support, but he still can’t make it to his feet. “Morgs,” he grunts my name, sounding unsure.
“It’s not a flesh wound.” My voice is shrill. “Show me.”
He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
“Show me!” I practically yell.
He peels back his jacket. His chest is bloody. There’s a lot of the stuff. Too much. Andy touches a hand to the blood. “Fucker jabbed me with a steel rod,” he manages to push out. “Help me to my feet.”
Andy is breathing heavily. His face is pale. Not just pale, it’s ashen.
“Andy,” I whisper. “Shit!” I hook an arm around his body and begin to half drag, half carry him to the car. “Hold on,” I grit out. “Do you hear me?”
He groans something unintelligible.
“You can do this.” I let him go as we reach the vehicle, and he falls against my car, sliding down into a heap on the ground.
I yank the back door open and somehow manage to wrestle him up and onto the back seat. He’s breathing fast and shallow. I see large spatters of blood on the cement floor.
No!
I pull off my jacket and put it in his hand, scrunching it up over the wound. “Try to apply pressure. You need to stop the bleeding. You fight!” I swallow thickly as I close the door. Then I jump in behind the wheel and gun it. I’m wishing I could turn back the clock. Andy is strong. He’s a fighter. He can beat this. He will beat this!
2
A week later…
Lyre
What the fuck did I do?
I can’t believe I would be so stupid.
I can’t!
Forge and Night aren’t here yet. I pace towards the window, my eyes on the horizon. This view normally calms me. Even when I’m having the worst of days. It isn’t working right now.
I hear a car pull up outside and doors open and close. I hear them walking towards the house and then climbing the stairs. I feel physically ill. I made promises I won’t be able to keep.
They walk into the room. Forge first and then Night. Forge frowns as soon as he sees me. He cocks his head, scrutinizing me. “That bad?” he grunts.
I push a breath out through my nose and nod. They’re not going to be happy.
“Fuck!” Night growls. “Is everyone here?” he asks, looking around the room. His jaw is tense, as are his shoulders. He looks at me, locking gazes with me. I can see that he is tempted to ask me what’s going on. I called them both earlier, specifically asking that they attend this meeting since this will affect them so acutely.
I can’t believe I fucked up so badly.
I run a hand through my hair. Samuel yawns loudly, he is bleary-eyed. Jarrod and Stephan are sipping espressos. Bolt is dressed in a three-piece suit. He looks at his watch. I can see that he is agitated. “Can we get started?” he asks. “I have somewhere I need to be right now.”
Rage saunters in, that perpetual scowl on his face. He grabs a muffin – I don’t know why he bothers since I doubt he will eat the thing. He sits at the far side of my long dining-room table.
“We’re still waiting on Trident,” I say. “Why don’t you grab a couple of coffees?” I want to get this over with, but I’m dreading it.
Forge grunts. He looks at the coffee machine but makes no move to fetch himself anything. He opens and closes his fists a couple of times and then rolls his neck. He looks like he’s ready to kill someone.
I hear Night grind his teeth. When I look over at him, his eyes are blazing. He’s buzzing with nervous energy. We all just sit or stand around like that until I finally turn back to the view. I don’t take any of it in. My mind is in turmoil. It takes a full ten minutes before Trident strolls in. I wish I could be as carefree.
“Morning, morning!” he calls in a sing-song voice. He’s grinning until he catches our expressions. The room scents of testosterone. Then he frowns. “I’m not late, am I? Great…pastries!” He grabs a plate, which he piles high. Then he pours himself a glass of orange juice. “Did I miss something?” His eyes narrow.
“Take a seat.” I point at a chair.
Trident puts a whole pastry into his mouth and begins chewing. “Are you okay, bro?” he asks, talking around his food.
“No.” I shake my head. How do I even begin? “I’m not okay at all.” I run a hand through my hair and pace away, trying to think of a way to break this news to them. There is only one way, and that’s to just tell them. No sugar-coating. No beating around any bushes. I need to pull off the Band-Aid. I turn, my eyes on Forge and Night more than anyone else. “I lost my power.”
Forge blinks a few times, and Night’s mouth drops open. “What do you mean you lost your power?” Forge’s voice is calm, which unnerves me.
“I mean, it’s gone.” I’m such a stupid fucking asshole!
“Your power can’t just be gone,” Bolt says, making a face.
“It is. I’ve checked it several times over the last few days. I nearly lost a patient a few days ago during a routine surgery that went amiss…” I sigh. I’m still not sure how I brought him back. Although I rely on my power, I’m still a damn good surgeon. “All I know is when I try to summon it…I get nothing. I’ve tried twice – just to test myself – and…nothing.” I shake my head. “My power’s gone. There’s absolutely nothing there.” I don’t feel it anymore. I’m empty.