Sin & Surrender (Demigod of San Francisco #6)(44)

He couldn’t stop crying right now, however, so he wasn’t thinking clearly.

He and Thane had been hit with some sort of empathic power that forced emotions on people. Dylan had gotten sadness, or something that translated into sadness. He’d burst into tears and sunk in on himself, hugging his middle. It had rendered him completely useless for the entire battle.

Thane hadn’t gotten sad. Not at all. The guy who had been useless all day had suddenly become incredibly dangerous. Rage would do that to a Berserker.

Maybe she’d seen those YouTube videos and knew what he was. If so, it was a hell of a risk to take. He would have been just as likely to tear through their group. Trample them. Use them as bowling balls. Tear them in half.

Thane hadn’t broken, though. His face had turned a bright shade of crimson, his fists had balled up, and thick cords of muscle had stood out all over his body. He’d fought the urge to change, and he’d beaten it, an incredible feat for a Berserker. His control was beyond compare. Unheard of, even.

While the others combated the rest of her group, I went after that woman with every non-life-threatening trick I knew. She was tough, too. She’d clearly battled other people with Hades magic.

But she hadn’t battled a Spirit Walker.

I’d scared the Empath so badly that she’d blacked out. I was no Harding, but I was good enough for the likes of this place. Most of it, anyway.

One lady did give me a run for my money. This particular team leaned heavily toward Ares, and she’d stood in the back with her bow and arrow. She didn’t miss. Not ever. We had to hide behind Jerry in his rock form so as not to be stuck like pincushions. Donovan had already been hit three times, all of the hits in locations on his body that prevented him from moving his limbs.

I went to work, slashing and tearing at her soul casing. I broke two prongs. I poked her actual soul. Her tanned face lost a few shades of color, but she did not buckle. She did not relent. If the ceiling had been taller, she would’ve been able to arch arrows over Jerry to hit us. Boman got hit that way and had to push in closer.

Zorn was the one who’d brought her down. He’d gone into gas, puffed into a human right next to her, and stabbed her through the stomach. He’d then slammed the hilt of the knife onto her head and knocked her out. Within that tiny slice of time, she’d put two arrows into him with her bare hands.

Pulling all those arrows out was so gross that I’d nearly gone home right then and there. That shit was for the birds.

So now, countless battles in, Dylan still sobbing in the back—the magic had worn off, but it had tapped into something inside him—we walked like the zombies I never really controlled, trudging and jerking and not having complete control of our bodies. Magnus had been right—at the end of day one, we were utterly exhausted. At least we hadn’t lost anyone, though.

“Aaron’s Necromancer is one of the best in the business,” Bria said, picking our conversation back up. Blood splattered all down her front and across her exposed forearms. She’d had to do some serious knife work in our last confrontation. “Noah, the hired gun, is also one of the best in the business. He partially trained me, and we’ve been professionally circling each other ever since. We’ve gone head to head a bunch of times. The two of them working together might be strong enough, and savvy enough, to get the job done.”

“But can’t Lexi just grab control right back?” Donovan asked, swinging his left arm. “Damn that chick. Was she hot, or was she hot? She had the pressure points down. I wonder what other pressure points she might know.” He paused to shake out his leg.

“She was hot,” Boman said, nodding.

“Lexi doesn’t need an item to call spirits.” Donovan checked the gauze on his arm, soaked through with red. His healing ability aside, two Advil couldn’t have been enough for that puncture. He was good at hiding pain.

“Depends on how strong they are,” I said. “I can probably do it, but if they have a firm hold, I’ll need to be close. Maybe close enough for them to attack me. Harding showed me how to ward off an attack on my soul, but this pupil is far from becoming the master.”

“Yeah, but he’s not as strong as you, right?” Red asked, a trail of dried blood on her arm. Four Advil couldn’t have been enough for her, either, especially without the blood bond. We needed to head back, and not only because Thane was uncharacteristically quiet. He hadn’t even picked on Jerry the last time he could have.

“He would’ve been a strong level five in life,” Bria said. “If they don’t scramble his head to make him easier to manage, and I assume they won’t, since they brought in a very expensive Necromancer to help the already expensive Necromancer on staff, he would be probably a mid-or lower-level five in a body.”

“A highly experienced, very technical mid-to low-level five.” Fear clawed at my guts. Harding could handle things I couldn’t—and do it with ease. Earlier today, he’d stepped through the planes of reality as if it were nothing.

I shook my head but didn’t say anything, worried I might open my mouth and throw up instead of speak.

Silence filtered down between us, and when I could no longer stand it, I voiced the thing everyone was probably thinking.

“If they lose control of Harding, and he’s in a bad temper because he was forced, it might take me a while to calm him down. Within that time, how many souls will he rip out? How much carnage can he do?”