Read Online Haven (The Last Humans Book 3) by Anna Zaires, Dima Zales - Free Book Online
Authors: Anna Zaires, Dima Zales
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two winged beings stood a moment ago. No heads or bodies are left.
“Are they dead?” I think, half to myself and half at Phoe.
“They’re back in Limbo, stored as mind backups in the DMZ with the rest of Oasis,” Phoe replies. “But those are semantics we’ll worry about when we’re out of here. For now, I need you to arm yourself. You have to make your swords appear. You remember choosing swords, right? Will them to appear.”
I register her words, but not their meaning because at that moment, Fiona and Vincent scream. Gliding near the ceiling, I look down and see them running away from the cathedral’s entrance.
The rest of the survivors cry out even louder and scatter like cockroaches.
Brandon doesn’t chase after them. With a dignified posture, he walks farther inside, a few winged warrior types behind him.
“The katanas, Theo,” Phoe screams in my mind. “You’ll need them. Spread your arms as though you’re about to grab two swords and wish you had them. Quick!”
I guess I’ve been dealing with Phoe long enough that she’s conditioned me to do as she says. Spreading my arms palms out, I will the weapons to appear.
Two blades materialize in my hands. They’re lighter than I imagined two long pieces of metal would be, but then again, real-world swords don’t possess the fiery glow these two have, so I’m not operating under the normal laws of physics. The handles feel comfortable in my hands, as if they’re extensions of my arms.
“Tell the Councilors to arm themselves too,” Phoe says.
“Arm yourselves,” I shout at the frightened people below me.
My command arrives too late for one pale, pudgy Councilor, as one of the armed warriors beheads him.
“Gesture for the weapons you chose on your way to this place,” I yell. “Wish for them to appear in your hands.”
Vincent—the thin Councilor—looks up at me and nods. He performs the gesture to call forth his weapon, and an intricate scythe appears in his hands. With it, he looks a lot like the Grim Reaper. As soon as he registers his new acquisition, Vincent swings the giant grass-cutting instrument at his beefy attacker. The winged warrior is caught off-guard. One moment he was chasing an unarmed, pathetic Vincent, and in the next, his target is attacking him. The momentary hesitation quite literally costs the attacker his head, and his decapitated parts disappear in that same pixel-by-pixel manner as the bodies did earlier.
“Good job, Vincent,” I shout. “Wait—look out!”
Vincent’s head is separated from his body, and as he dematerializes, I see Brandon standing there with his giant blade.
“Fighting us is useless,” Brandon says in his drum-like voice. “We’ve trained with these weapons for centuries, while you didn’t know you could possess them—until that one told you.” He looks at me threateningly, his wings preparing for flight.
I try to make my gaze more baleful than his. He’s trying to dominate the environment through psychological warfare, and I won’t fall for it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Fiona. She’s approaching Brandon from behind, a rapier in her slim hands. Instead of metal, her weapon looks to be made of pure light.
“Head for the exit,” Phoe orders me at the same time as I think, “We need to help her.”
“No, we don’t,” Phoe says. “Judging by the way Brandon moves, he wasn’t lying about his training. You have no chance against him in a fight. Fiona is already as good as back in Limbo.”
Phoe’s words are like cold water over my brain.
“Can’t you take over my body and do something?” I think in desperation. “You should be faster than—”
Before I can finish my idea, Phoe acts on it. The next few seconds are full of the usual paradoxes that happen when Phoe takes control. It feels like I’m acting on my own, but I know I’m not that muchin control of my fear of heights. It must be Phoe who has me pull back my wings and literally swoop down to
“Are they dead?” I think, half to myself and half at Phoe.
“They’re back in Limbo, stored as mind backups in the DMZ with the rest of Oasis,” Phoe replies. “But those are semantics we’ll worry about when we’re out of here. For now, I need you to arm yourself. You have to make your swords appear. You remember choosing swords, right? Will them to appear.”
I register her words, but not their meaning because at that moment, Fiona and Vincent scream. Gliding near the ceiling, I look down and see them running away from the cathedral’s entrance.
The rest of the survivors cry out even louder and scatter like cockroaches.
Brandon doesn’t chase after them. With a dignified posture, he walks farther inside, a few winged warrior types behind him.
“The katanas, Theo,” Phoe screams in my mind. “You’ll need them. Spread your arms as though you’re about to grab two swords and wish you had them. Quick!”
I guess I’ve been dealing with Phoe long enough that she’s conditioned me to do as she says. Spreading my arms palms out, I will the weapons to appear.
Two blades materialize in my hands. They’re lighter than I imagined two long pieces of metal would be, but then again, real-world swords don’t possess the fiery glow these two have, so I’m not operating under the normal laws of physics. The handles feel comfortable in my hands, as if they’re extensions of my arms.
“Tell the Councilors to arm themselves too,” Phoe says.
“Arm yourselves,” I shout at the frightened people below me.
My command arrives too late for one pale, pudgy Councilor, as one of the armed warriors beheads him.
“Gesture for the weapons you chose on your way to this place,” I yell. “Wish for them to appear in your hands.”
Vincent—the thin Councilor—looks up at me and nods. He performs the gesture to call forth his weapon, and an intricate scythe appears in his hands. With it, he looks a lot like the Grim Reaper. As soon as he registers his new acquisition, Vincent swings the giant grass-cutting instrument at his beefy attacker. The winged warrior is caught off-guard. One moment he was chasing an unarmed, pathetic Vincent, and in the next, his target is attacking him. The momentary hesitation quite literally costs the attacker his head, and his decapitated parts disappear in that same pixel-by-pixel manner as the bodies did earlier.
“Good job, Vincent,” I shout. “Wait—look out!”
Vincent’s head is separated from his body, and as he dematerializes, I see Brandon standing there with his giant blade.
“Fighting us is useless,” Brandon says in his drum-like voice. “We’ve trained with these weapons for centuries, while you didn’t know you could possess them—until that one told you.” He looks at me threateningly, his wings preparing for flight.
I try to make my gaze more baleful than his. He’s trying to dominate the environment through psychological warfare, and I won’t fall for it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Fiona. She’s approaching Brandon from behind, a rapier in her slim hands. Instead of metal, her weapon looks to be made of pure light.
“Head for the exit,” Phoe orders me at the same time as I think, “We need to help her.”
“No, we don’t,” Phoe says. “Judging by the way Brandon moves, he wasn’t lying about his training. You have no chance against him in a fight. Fiona is already as good as back in Limbo.”
Phoe’s words are like cold water over my brain.
“Can’t you take over my body and do something?” I think in desperation. “You should be faster than—”
Before I can finish my idea, Phoe acts on it. The next few seconds are full of the usual paradoxes that happen when Phoe takes control. It feels like I’m acting on my own, but I know I’m not that muchin control of my fear of heights. It must be Phoe who has me pull back my wings and literally swoop down to
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