Ruby Fever (Hidden Legacy, #6)(102)

I took his hand.

“è un uomo morto,” the Artisan said.

Franco Sagredo was a dead man.

A wall of flames surged ten feet high and rolled toward us. The temperature spiked.

“We have to move.”

He gave no indication that he heard me.

“Mom, I need a bullet,” I said into my mike.

“I’ve tried. The fire is too hot.”

How the hell was Adam generating fire hot enough to stop high caliber rounds? No pyrokinetic could . . .

He gave him the serum. Arkan gave the Osiris serum to a Prime. Holy shit.

The fire was roaring like a living creature, deafening. He would never hear me.

There was nothing we had to counter that. This was Armageddon.

A dark object arced through the sky. For a second, I thought I’d imagined it, but then my brain processed what I was seeing.

“No!”

Linus’ mech landed on top of Adam Pierce. The two men vanished in a white-hot ball of fire. The blast wave of heat smashed into us, picked me up, and threw me against the wall.

It didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have.

I opened my eyes. Somehow, Alessandro had wrapped himself around me, his magic cushioning the blow.

Linus died. For real this time. Nobody could survive that.

“What was that?” Arabella demanded.

“Nothing.” My grief and fury jerked me to my feet.

The flames had vanished, and the mech was glowing red.

They killed our grandfather.

Static crackled in my ear.

“Frida,” Linus’ voice said in my helmet. “I need a bit of help. I’m stuck in my mech and it’s quite warm in here.”

Oh my God.

Next to me, the Artisan bared his teeth. “My turn.”

“Go. I have your back.”

He lunged through the gap in the pavilion and jumped off the wall, his magic flashing as he landed. I walked through the gap after him and stood at the edge of the ruined wall.

Franco scoffed and started toward his grandson, pulling two maces out of thin air. He didn’t go for the guns. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to beat and humiliate Alessandro. Alessandro had disobeyed, and Franco counted on their family connection to either enrage his grandson until he became sloppy or make him hesitate.

He was wearing the headphones like the rest of them.

Another wave of Arkan’s soldiers ran up the hill toward Alessandro. Magic sparked among them. Some of them sprouted blades. They were Arkan’s best combat mages. He’d kept them in reserve for just this moment. Alessandro tore through them like they were paper dolls.

Franco was on a collision course, heading directly for him. They were like two knights sighting each other across a medieval battlefield. Nothing was going to keep them apart. Arkan was watching it like it was a movie.

There was no place to draw another circle. The wall was strewn with rubble. That was okay. I didn’t need one.

Twenty-five yards separated Franco and Alessandro.

I took my helmet off and dropped it by my feet.

Twenty.

I sent my magic spiraling forward. Its tendrils found the impenetrable wall of Franco’s mind.

Fifteen.

My magic wrapped around the old man’s consciousness, locking me onto my target.

Ten.

Let me show you how much I love your grandson.

The black wings tore out of my back, and I screeched.

Not just the harpy. Me. The harpy and siren combined into one. I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t hold back. I gave him everything.

My magic bored into Franco’s mind like a laser.

The granite crag that was an antistasi’s mind resisted.

I kept screaming, the torrent of sound geysering out of me.

The granite quaked.

Soft fuzzy blackness crept on the edge of my vision.

You have all of me forever.

I fed the last drop of my power into my scream.

The stone mountain of Franco’s mind cracked.

He fell to his knees, his eyes blank.

I was still screaming. His mind had vanished, but I couldn’t stop.

I had to stop. I had to . . .

“I love you,” Alessandro’s voice said from inside my memories.

I grabbed onto the sound of those words and fell silent.

It was so quiet. The people had stopped fighting and running. They stared at me and some of them stared at Franco, kneeling in the grass with a blank look on his face.

In that silence, Alessandro and Arkan clashed, too fast to follow. They cut and carved at each other, striking, kicking, stabbing. The fight stopped. Everyone watched the two of them twist and spin. This was the point of the whole thing. This was exactly how it was supposed to end.

I walked off the wall, through the gap, and down the hill. Nobody tried to stop me. They parted before me like the proverbial sea.

Arkan was lightning fast despite his age, and he had decades of experience, but Alessandro was faster, stronger, and younger. Skill clashed with fury. Blood flew and I couldn’t tell whose.

Arkan opened a gash on Alessandro’s arm. Alessandro slipped around the blade, fluid, unbothered by the cut, and smashed his heel into Arkan’s kneecap. Arkan’s leg folded. Passive field or no, the raw force of that kick delivered enough impact. Like a suit of chain mail, Arkan’s magic didn’t permit a blade or a bullet to penetrate his skin, but it couldn’t completely cushion him from a powerful blow.