nameless city. Shattered, burned husks of building dotted the torn-up streets. A half-flattened, overturned tank lay on its back beside a building that looked like it had been caved in by Godzilla.
One of those F-16 fighter jets was actually jammed into a blown out sky scraper as though King Kong himself had grabbed it while high up and shoved it through the windows.
Worse still were the bodies. So much blood had been spilled from their mangled forms, the streets ran red with it. I wasn’t sure how much there actually was, since we were several hundred feet in the air, but I was guessing it had to be a whole hell of a lot for me to be able to see it flowing into storm drains.
Werewolves clad in full battle dress stalked through the streets. Every once in a while one of the bodies moved, but before it could do more than twitch, a werewolf was on it. A head would fly, followed swiftly by a match and a gallon of lighter fluid. Whoever was dispatching these things was not taking chances.
Farther forward stood a wall of Dioscuri in a near impenetrable line, and my blood ran cold at the sight of them. They were doing that Spartan 300 thing. Three lines of over a hundred men and women stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking off what looked like a tiny command center. I hadn’t seen it done, well, ever, but I’d certainly been trained for. Those lines wouldn’t break, and if they did, the next would step up to fill in the gaps.
I wasn’t sure what was going on exactly, but one thing was clear, they were fighting an enemy they couldn’t beat. Why did I know that? Because the corpses of fallen Dioscuri and werewolves littered the battlefield, and there were far, far more of them on their backs than on their feet.
“Oh my God,” I whispered right before we dropped from the sky, plummeting straight down like a stone.
“It wasn’t this bad when I left to get you,” Connor replied, his voice a pulse of shadow on my neck. An eye-blink later we landed behind the lines, and while I’d expected Connor to shatter the asphalt, we landed so lightly, I almost hadn’t realized we were standing on the ground.
“Connor, thank God you’re back!” Thes’s voice struck me like a kick in the teeth, although I didn’t know why. Something about the sound of it had changed. It sounded, well… seasoned. It held power, sure, but it held something else too. It held loss. So much loss, my heart wrenched for him. That was my fault.
I should have gone to Egypt after Connor. It was my job to save people from monsters and the only reason he’d even got sent back was because he’d been escorting me to a party I shouldn’t have attended.
I’d been trying to ignore that non-insignificant face the whole time I’d been with Connor, but hearing Thes’s voice cemented it. By abdicating my duty to Thes, I’d let this happen to him. Worse still, I’d spent extra time in dreamland. If I hadn’t, maybe, just maybe I could have stopped what was very clearly a last stand.
Well, I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I would step upon this battlefield and use it as a stepping stone to victory. There wasn’t time for a pity party. No, I could kick myself, and brood, and go all sorts of Joss Whedon hero, later. For now, well, I had to take charge. So I put my big girl pants on, sucked in a breath, and spun to face Thes Mercer.
The sight of him striding toward us took my breath away. It wasn’t that he looked different, per se. He was still every inch the tall, long-haired football player. Sure, he’d somehow managed to pack even more muscle onto his dense frame, and it flexed and moved beneath his sun-kissed flesh as he strode toward us clad in only a pair of gym shorts.
A blush crept across my features. I knew he was dressed that way so he could transform into his hulking man-wolf form without tearing his clothing to shreds, but still, it made me want to reach out and touch him in the same way I wanted to run my hands across statues of
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