She gripped his hand, then let it go and flashed.
Simon clipped a holster onto his belt, met Duncan’s eyes. “Go.”
* * *
Ten miles beyond the checkpoint, the enemy halted. Silver hair streaming, eyes ablaze with fervor, Jeremiah White climbed onto the roof of a truck. As planned, one of the DUs at his side illuminated him so all could see. His voice carried, full-throated, through the soft spring night.
“Fellow warriors, friends, patriots, tonight, at long last, we will eradicate the sanctuary of the demons that defile our world. Tonight, at long last, our blessed crusade to purify the land, the seas, the very air we breathe ends. We mark this night as God’s wrath, delivered through his true children. We will strike them down, rip out this beating heart of their evil. Tonight, in our righteous fury, we avenge our fallen brothers. Arlington. Washington. New York. Philadelphia.”
Others in the crowd shouted out names of other battles, other places as White spread his arms, lifted his face to the starstruck heavens.
“And our brothers will cry out from their graves, will rip the air with their gratitude as we wipe these demons and all who truck with them from the face of this earth.”
“Burn the witches!”
As that cry rang out, over and over, the Dark Uncanny who stood with them remained stone-faced. No sense of irony leaked through.
“Burn the witches,” White echoed. “Hang the demons. Strike them down as they flee. Root out the false prophet they worship as The One, for she will face our judgment. And with her death, as promised, as decreed, by her own fiery sword, we take back the world, we ride the glory.
“Tonight, New Hope burns!”
He drew his own sword, lifted it high, then sliced it down to point toward the glimmer of lights in the distance.
They spread out, squads to attack outlying farms, homes, families, others to circle or flash to the west and east to strike from those directions. Another handful to surge to the checkpoint, take down security as the main forces followed.
Still agile and fit, White boosted down from the roof of the truck, nodded to the pair of burly DUs who served as his personal guard.
“Let them burn, let them bleed, let them litter the ground of this cursed place with bodies. Through the flames and the blood we’ll take her at last. When I strike the bitch down, we’ll have all.”
Troops swept by in a flood, eager for that blood. Others, according to plan, pushed in from the north, with advance teams striking at the checkpoints.
Seasoned, experienced warriors, White thought, some of whom had been with him since the earliest days. Raiders who killed and maimed for the thrill of it. Dark Uncannys who sought the end of Fallon Swift as much as the most fanatical Purity Warrior.
And all under his command.
He waited, his own eagerness growing, the thirst for vengeance searing his throat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
White heard the first snaps of gunfire, watched the first spear of lightning rip across the dark. The crows swarmed in.
Like music, he thought. Like triumph.
Like power.
Finally, what had risen from the dark would know all he was.
“Now. To the heart, straight to the heart to tear it out.”
But rather than the gardens, as planned, the protective shield held. When power struck power at the checkpoint, the light spread. In the pale green the faeries brought, the troops, the people of New Hope, magickals, NMs, farmers, teachers, soldiers, weavers, potters engaged the enemy.
On the road to town, in the woods, over fields, on outlying farms, they struck back.
Colin and his recruits met the enemy rushing from the south. Flynn sprinted with troops from The Beach through the woods, turning the ambush back on the attackers. At the farm, Travis fought with Eddie while Fred turned the torches and flaming arrows meant to burn down her home to flowers. To the east, Will fought with his son, with Poe and his.
At the checkpoint, Simon fired from his sniper’s nest, blocked out worry for Lana. She’d refused to join the second line of defense, and whipped her power against the dark on the front line.
White had haunted her and hunted her, he understood. And Mallick was with her. He had to trust.
Duncan wove his bike through the oncoming forces, sword slashing in one hand, power in the other. He swung back, the bike another weapon as Tonia loosed arrows from her own sniper’s nest.
A pair of Raiders—and he could admire the chopper under them—barreled toward him. The one riding tandem heaved an axe. Veering to avoid the crash, Duncan flipped power, sent the axe flying back and into the skull of the lead rider. The speed, the sudden loss of control sent the chopper careening off the road, into the tree where Tonia had her nest.
“Watch it!” she snapped out.
“Sorry.”
He spun around, saw a couple more Raiders, some PWs on foot, a couple on horseback pull back to retreat.
“No, not today.”
He started to pursue, then saw White.
“Son of a bitch. Assholes in retreat!” he called out, satisfied when riders on horseback set off after them. He spun around again to confront White.
He looked dazed, Duncan realized. Likely from the crash into the shield. But the two DU’s flanking him didn’t have the same issues.
He threw up a block, and still the force of the power strike spun at him nearly unseated him. He gunned his engine, started to blast out his own.
Fallon dived out of the sky, Laoch’s wings arrowed up. Both the wolf and the owl leaped off to join the battle. And she, as Duncan fought to keep the flood of emotions inside him dammed, dropped the left guard with one strike of her sword, took down the one on the right with a bolt of light.
A swipe of her hand through the air blew White to the ground. “Sleep.” With him sprawled, she wheeled Laoch around, looked at Duncan. “I’m back,” she said, and charged into the enemy who remained.
“Yeah, I see that.”
* * *
The attack meant to level New Hope was routed in under twenty minutes. New Hope suffered no casualties. Not a single building burned. They gained thirty horses, ten trucks, six bikes, a number of weapons, and more than six hundred prisoners.
Including Jeremiah White.
Fallon looked down on him where he sprawled on the road to New Hope.
“I know we need to talk,” she said to Duncan. “But we have to deal with this first.”
“Yeah. To both.” He took a step back when Lana rushed to her.
“Fallon.”
“Warrior Mom,” she murmured, holding tight. “Dad.” Still in Lana’s embrace, she reached for him as he dropped down from the sniper’s nest. “We’ll talk, I promise. Mallick. I’m glad you were here.”
“You timed your return well.”
“I saw—in the fire. We need to check on the other lines, on the houses and farms.”
“Word’s coming in, elf to elf.” Like Simon, Tonia dropped down. “We have some injuries. No casualties reported so far. We’re still chasing down a few. Hi, pal.” She gave Fallon a light punch on the arm. “Nice entrance.” She looked down at White. “And top prize.”
“Let’s get him into town. The gardens I think.” Fallon looked at her mother. “It seems appropriate. Arlys is going to want to report on the attack, the capture. We’re going to broadcast it far and wide.”