Daughter of Strife- Part 3 Read online

  They think I suggested these things as a way to protect us while we prepare for war. That's part of it. But mostly it's to protect them from me, from my enemies and my true identity. To protect them from Varian, who knows too much. Sees too much. And always plans several steps ahead of his opponents.

  When the Nephilytes notice me, they begin chanting, praying and holding their arms out as I land. This always makes me so uncomfortable, but to dissuade them would crush them. I allow it reluctantly, but always with a mind towards what Zorin once told me when we first met. That society has a way of raising up gods only to tear them down later. It is the cycle.

  Someday they will tear me down. I don't doubt this. Nightfall can't be a god forever.

  Let's just hope I can accomplish what I need to before that happens.

  Something good has to come from all this. And from my inevitable downfall.

  I offer blessings, then disappear into the haven of the castle. The Nephilytes don't enter this part of our dwelling. No one but a few do. It's our private quarters, and Zorin has made it clear that the boundaries are to be respected. "I cannot have all those people underfoot at all times," he said to me. I didn't disagree.

  Zorin is there when I walk in, as if expecting my arrival at exactly that moment. His face doesn't light up and he doesn't run to me like Jax, but he tilts his head, and the side of his lip flicks in response to seeing me. "You're home."

  In two long steps he's in front of me, and he raises his hand to brush his knuckles very gently against my jawline. The only skin showing on my body. "If Evie hadn't kept me updated, I might have gone mad. I was about to intervene during the Trial, did she tell you?"

  "She did," I say, as his hand drops to his side. "I've been well-trained," I remind him. "I'm not helpless."

  He chuckles. "No one in their right mind would accuse you of being helpless," he says. "Still, I worry."

  A meow grabs my attention and I look down to see a black cat with large eyes circling my ankles purring and pushing against me.

  I grin and lean to pick up the sweet cat. "Nox, you've grown!"

  "I'm not the only one who was worried," Zorin says. "He whines for you when you're not here. It's… distressing."

  I laugh at that. "Then give him love. He's lonely."

  Zorin makes an offended sound and just shakes his head. "So, tell me. Evie said you have news?"

  The weight of the Seal burns in my pocket, and though I trust Zorin, I still hold some secrets close to my chest. I don't tell him everything. But I tell him enough. "It was an Angel ship," I said. "I was able to use my DNA and Kai's sword to activate it. There was a message from a dead Angel pilot that talked about the Horsemen."

  Zorin's eyes turns dark. He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting. I heard the Horsemen were created by the Angels. They were supposed to be weapons. Sent to enslave the human race. This was long ago, of course.”

  “And where did you hear this exactly?” I ask inquisitively.

  He shrugs. “It’s a story the Nephilim would tell. The Angels sent four horsemen to conquer the world. And we Nephilim, half-human, half-angel, would stop them.”

  I look away from his intense gaze, leaning against a nearby table. "Clearly we succeeded. But why would the Angels want to enslave us?" The thought sends chills up my spine.

  "Humans are their food source," he says, plainly. "As Nephilim, we know what it means to feel human. Even though we drink blood, we understand our kinsmen. To many Angels, humans are little more than animals waiting for slaughter."

  "That's a charming image." I chew on my bottom lip, thinking. "Why didn't the Horsemen succeed? What went wrong?" Or right, I suppose, depending on your perspective.

  "I'm not sure," he says. "Some say it was because once the Horsemen arrived on this world, they fell in love with it and with humans and decided to defend it instead of fight for the Angels."

  My mind falls back to the day of my parents' death. Of the Angel with wings of gold and purple, armor and weapons more formidable than any I've seen. The Angel who left my parents dead and left me near death. I wonder again why. Why come after us? Because of Zorin? Because my parents were keeping him trapped? But if that's the case, why haven't I seen the monster since that day?

  I clutch the Token of Strife around my neck and follow Zorin through the cathedral. I don't have time to be distracted by vendettas. There are more important matters to focus on.

  "What do you know about the Seals?" I ask.

  Zorin stops dead in his tracks. "Where did you hear about them?"

  I force myself not to pat my pocket to make sure it's safe. I don't want Zorin—or anyone, really—to know I have one. Not until I know more. "The Angel mentioned them, but didn’t give more information."

  "The Seals are deadly. Dangerous. Nothing to be taken lightly."

  That appears to be all he's going to say as we enter the Council Room and walk straight into a heated argument between TR and the Gravekeeper's emissary, Olir, an old stooped man with long shaggy hair and a cane that looks like the only thing holding him up.

  Each group that joined the Dark Templars kept squadrons and emissaries of their own to coordinate with us. They retain certain authority over their squads as long as it's not out of alignment with our cause. The emissaries moved into the Cathedral to be on equal footing with the original crew, much to Zorin's annoyance.

  "You broke into an active base military base,” says TR. “If you were caught—”

  “But we weren’t," the old man says stubbornly. "We stole prototype anti-vehicle weapons and escaped without a trace. Besides, we were prepared to die.“ Olir puffs out his chest with pride, as if this is the greatest gift to us.

  "To die? You think the Order would kill you?” TR chuckles darkly, and I cringe, knowing what's coming, but letting him say his piece. He's not wrong, and the Gravekeeper needs to hear it.

  “Let me tell you what would happen if you were captured, my friend," TR says with a saccharine voice. "The Inquisition would string you up with chains. They would tear into your flesh with hooks and scalpels. They would tear open your stomach and pull out your guts. And when they were done, a Hospitaller would stitch you back up, so they could do it all over again. Your life would be one long moment of eternal pain."

  He lets his words hang there a moment. The Gravekeepers face goes white, but he remains silent as TR continues. “And perhaps you’ll remain strong. Perhaps you’ll remember our cause.” He leans in, his voice quiet. “Or maybe… just maybe… you will begin to forget. You will hear your own screams and feel your eyes roll back in your head… and you will do anything, anything… to feel just a bit of relief. And so you will betray us. Tell the Orders of our operations. And doom us all.” He gestures out the window, to the many lives working the grounds.

  Olir swallows uncomfortably, looking ashamed now. “I understand. The Gravekeepers will follow future orders to the letter. This will not happen again.”

  Olir leaves and TR turns to me, his face heavy after the argument. "It's good to have you back, Nightfall. Ready for the meeting?"

  I nod. "Yes. You handled him well. I know it's not easy."

  His shoulders drop a bit, then he straightens his spine as he leads the way to the War Room. "Better this than the alternative."

  Trix and Corinne are already present when we arrive, though Corinne is now dressed like Raven with gold and black armor and golden eyes instead of her normal—and very distinguishing—royal purple eyes.

  Trix grins when she sees me, and comes in for a hug. "Too long, N. Too long. These guys are just so hotheaded." She nudges TR affectionately and he actually blushes a bit and smiles.

  Things seem to be going well for them. I hope they get a proper happily-ever-after someday.

  "I'm happy to see you all," I say, taking a seat. "I know I've been gone awhile. But I'm back, and we have a new mission."

  Evie sends out files to everyone in the room on an encrypted network, then I project a map over the ta
ble.

  The door opens and Carter walks in pushing a cart with everyone's favorite snacks. I give him a nod and a smile, but continue talking as he passes out the food.

  "We are going to break into Carcerem Maximus," I say, knowing this declaration will invite questions, most of which I can't actually answer honestly.

  "Why now?" Trix asks. "We don’t need to steal their weapons. And their security is top-notch."

  I can't tell them it's for Varian… for survival… so I fall back on another lie that's also part truth. Evie found some very useful information about a few guests of this world-famous prison. "There are several prisoners there who fought on the side of the Nephilim during the war. They have been imprisoned for life at the deadliest and most brutal prison in the world for supporting our cause. We need to free them. Doing so will create goodwill amongst our followers, and will potentially add new members to our ranks. Members who know war and who have knowledge that could be useful."

  "Goodwill and maybes. That's all this is," TR says with a frown. "It's not worth it. You're always talking about risk assessment. This virtually guarantees someone gets hurt. There are other ways to create goodwill."

  "And the people who are suffering for their support in our cause? What of them?" I ask him.

  TR shrugs. "It's unfair, unjust and awful, but not our problem. We have bigger fish to fry right now, then rescuing a bunch of random people who may or may not still be loyal to the cause. And the potential for collateral damage is too high. Even if no one is hurt, how do we guarantee only the six we want break free? What if we free criminals in the process. There are some seriously bad dudes locked up there."

  "We aren't amateurs, TR," I say evenly. "We can and will be very specific in our targeted operation, thus ensuring only those who we want to free are rescued."

  "What do you know about these people?" he asks, always the one to challenge me. But we need a dissenting voice, to keep balance, so I don't mind, as tedious as it might be at times. "Our current recruits are heavily vetted. These people could betray us and ruin everything we are trying to build. It's not worth the risk."

  "We will not reveal anything to them, including our base, until they have been vetted. We will give careful consideration to anyone new we bring here," I assure him.

  "And the rest?" he asks, stubbornly. "Those who don't pass the vetting or don't want to join? What happens to them? We just leave them to be caught again by the Order, and this time executed for escaping?"

  "They will be free, which is better than their current fate, and we will find a way to give them a new life of safety. One problem at a time." I flip the screen to a picture Jacob Parker, the warden of Carcerem Maximus. "He's known for extending jail time of Zeniths using fake excuses. Blaming them for starting riots when my intel confirmed these riots were started by the guards themselves. He's making a fortune running this prison, and it's rumored he pays Inquisition judges to continue sending him Zeniths to torture." I look into the eyes of each of my lieutenants as I say, "We are going to remove him from his position."

  There's a buzz of energy in the room. This is a cause they care about. We've long known the injustice in the so-called justice system. How it's heavily weighted against Zeniths. Not to mention Nephilim.

  "How are we going to remove him from power?" Trix asks.

  I smile. "Leave that to me. While you handle the prisoners, I’ll handle the warden.”

  "Why not catch him off guard?" Trix asks. "At home where there's less security?"

  "That was my first thought," I say, "but this man's the most paranoid person I've ever seen. He never leaves the prison anymore. It's become his home—his fortress—ever since his sister was assassinated three years ago."

  I pause, looking at my team. "There's something else you should know about him," I say. "This warden is the man responsible for Thane Blackthorn walking free."

  Corinne/Raven flinches, and I feel all the rage and anger in her, because it is also mine. Thane killed a man we both loved deeply, though in different ways.

  "Jacob and the Pope share correspondence," I say, continuing. "Usually through physical mail that's hard to track, but a few letters got scanned into the system as part of a security measure, and I was able to track them down. Jacob has several high-ranking judges in his pocket. Thane isn't the only bastard this man has set free. He's a puppet master of the criminal world, letting evil run wild while punishing the innocent. In this kingdom, it is Jacob’s whims that dictate justice, rather than law. He has to be stopped."

  And Varian has set me up with an impossibly hard task. Of course, why would he put himself in jeopardy when he has me to risk life and limb instead?

  I wonder why. What does he gain? Does he want revenge? Justice for his son?

  For Kai.

  But Varian doesn't make decisions from sentiment. There's something else he wants.

  Something cold and calculated and sharp as a knife in the back.

  "When do we roll?" TR asks.

  "Tonight. They have a shift change at 2 a.m. We can take advantage of the commotion."

  Zorin frowns. "That's cutting it close, Nightfall. Surely we can afford a few days to plan? To map the prison, at least."

  I shake my head. "We can't map it. It's a maze, designed by Jacob himself. Rumor has it he memorized the only map then burned it. I found no plans anywhere, not on the web, not even in the hidden places I know to look. I'll have to improvise once we get there."

  "I don’t like improvising," Zorin says, his eyes prying into mine. "It leads to trouble."

  "I've got a plan," I say. "It just happens to include some improvising." I wink at my overprotective maker in a show of confidence I don't totally feel. "Here's what we're going to do first… "

  Chapter 3

  Implementing the first stage of my plan isn't hard. We intercept a prisoner transport vehicle on its way to Carcerem Maximus by feigning a broken-down car and damsel in distress. Trix plays the damsel, much to everyone's amusement. The woman could repair a car using duct tape and a bottle opener if she had to.

  But she's petite and cute and likely to mentally disarm the guards who stop to help.

  The driver exits his vehicle and walks over to Trix, concerned, but cautious. She plays her part well, feigning distress, but it’s the middle of the night on a deserted road. It's not hard to convince them she needs help. Men love nothing more than to play at being the heroes they've been told their whole lives they're entitled to be.

  I use the distraction to target the other guard still in the car, laying hands on him before he sees me. I quickly subdue him mentally, instructing him to find a new job—something helping Zeniths—and leave this life behind. I also compel him to forget about this entire evening.

  When he's under control, I creep over to the guard questioning Trix and have my hands on his exposed hand before he can react. With him, I take my time, exploring his memories to learn the identification code to enter the facility. It changes nightly. Then I give him the same command. Find a new line of work, one that does something good for the underprivileged. With one last command on their minds, they strip, giving Zorin and I their uniforms and eGlasses. We put on the black outfits and the dark helmets that hide our faces with vizors. We leave them to walk home and take their truck as our own.

  Zorin rides shotgun and I drive, though he's not happy about the arrangement. "I'm more diplomatic than you," I remind him. "Plus, I can be extra persuasive."

  He just grunts as we take off for the prison.

  In the back are our fake prisoners, TR, Trix and Raven. They're armed to the teeth with modified rifles, and Raven carries her Reaver blade, just in case.

  Her little robot eagle, Pip—a special gift from her long-distance boyfriend—acts as our scout, keeping a bird’s eye view of the prison, our truck, guard locations and any unexpected activity. This prison is almost entirely offline. They do most things by paper and their security system is completely localized, meaning I have to be in the s
ecurity office to access anything.

  Like I said, dude is paranoid.

  But given how many fingers he's got in illegal pies, I don't blame him.

  "Everything looks normal," Raven says through the eGlass. She's in the back, and the truck is soundproof, making eGlasses our only way to communicate for the time being. "They're about to change shifts as planned."

  Excellent. Guards at the end of their shift are the most careless. They're ready to go home, they're tired, they're checked out mentally. At least, that's what I'm banking on.

  I drive at the speed limit, not too fast, not too slow. Nothing suspicious here.

  When I pull up to the guard post at the gate, I'm prepared with the identification codes they ask us for over the eGlass. I give them the info and the gate opens.

  We all breathe a sigh of relief as I drive through, replacing the guard eGlass with my own to stay in contact with my team.

  But my heart rate spikes, and Zorin's breathing hitches, when the guard calls out through the speakers, "Wait!"

  I slow the truck to a stop, halfway past the gate. The walls surrounding the prison are covered with personal and anti-vehicle weaponry. If we get into a fight here, we might not get out alive. My top priority is diplomacy right now. Which means everyone else needs to stay very quiet. I glare at Zorin who rolls his eyes, but stays on alert as I put the truck into park.

  "What's going on?" TR asks.

  "Shh, I'll handle it," I say. "Everyone stand down."

  Four guards armed with heavy assault rifles and clad in slim black armor—flexible but strong—approach us.

  The head guard stops by my door and motions to roll down the window, which I do.

  "Is there a problem?" I ask, ignoring the pounding in my chest. I ready myself to grab him and use my abilities, but he's covered head to toe. I can see his face, but only behind an unbreakable visor. He's a young man, maybe mid-20s with a boyish face that's hardening into manhood. I'd have to tear off his helmet, which would alert the other guards. I'd be shot before I could make skin contact. By the Orders, I have to be especially careful right now.