Redeemed (House of Night #12)(75)

Suddenly, the clouds before him began to boil and change form until Kalona was staring into the glowing eyes of the White Bull. His body was an enormous cloud, his horns dripping with a rain of blood.

Though it has been eons since last we met, you are as predictable now as you were then. The voice blasted through Kalona’s mind. What mutually beneficial deal shall we make this time, Kalona?

“None, bull. Last time we met I rejected you in words, but not in my heart, nor in my deeds. Last time we met I allowed your Darkness to feed that which was weak within me and poison my life. This time I am different. This time I reject you in words, in heart, and in deeds.”

Really, Son of the Moon? Would you still reject me if I told you I had the power to restore to you everything you lost during the eons you have wandered the mortal realm?

“There is nothing you can give me that would be worth the price.”

But you haven’t even heard my price. It would be so very little in comparison to that which you have lost.

“Hear me, and hear me well, bull, though you will never truly understand what I say because your spirit is diseased. Even if I do not get everything I desire—even if I cannot control everything around me—the end does not justify the means. It is impossible to capture love with evil. Once and for all, I choose Light!” Kalona lifted his arm and his onyx spear appeared. “Now, begone and leave me to the consequences of my choice!” He hurled the spear into the bull-shaped thundercloud. With a roar of pain and anger, the creature disappeared.

Kalona fisted his hands to control the tremors that cascaded through his body. “I have no time for fear. I have my duty to complete.” Resolutely, he flew on.

Kalona landed on the rooftop of the taller ONEOK building in time to see two men dragging a struggling girl across the Mayo’s balcony. Neferet was seated at a small table in the middle of the balcony, sipping from a crystal goblet.

What is she doing? Why is she throwing people from the balcony? Kalona tried to puzzle it through as the men holding the girl watched Neferet expectantly, obviously awaiting her sign. Kalona could see nothing but madness behind Neferet’s actions. It is not unlike her to torture humans. And death gives her power. Perhaps this is an amusement and an energy gain for her. Perhaps she is simply bored and playing her macabre version of a game.

Neferet nodded. One man took the girl’s arms. Another took her legs, and they began to swing the girl so that she could be tossed over the edge. Even above the howling wind and the rumbling thunder Kalona could hear her screams.

Kalona stood, spread his wings, and readied himself to dive—to catch the girl.

Neferet’s goblet shattered on the stone floor as she saw him. She picked up a handgun and sighted it at him.

Then Kalona understood her game.

He also understood Aphrodite’s vision. The Prophetess had been correct. It had been literal rather than symbolic.

Thank you, Nyx, for allowing me a choice. But this time, I will uphold my duty. This time, I choose Light, no matter the cost.

Kalona leaped from the rooftop of the ONEOK building, arms and wings spread, a clear target as he hurled forward to save one more human from the consequences of Neferet’s madness.

But the men didn’t throw the girl. Instead they ducked down, giving Neferet a clear line of sight. The red laser lit up the center of Kalona’s chest instants before Neferet began to pull the trigger over and over and over again, emptying the weapon into his body.

Darkness-coated bullets slammed into Kalona, piercing him and sending poison to scorch his heart. He tried to remain upright, but his body, driven back by the force of the bullets, tumbled head over feet, disorienting him. He commanded his wings to catch the sky and hold him aloft, but all control over his body and its preternatural strength had been severed.

For the second time in his eons of existence, Kalona fell.

Detective Marx

“He’s down! The winged guy is down! We need a bus to the Mayo—now!” The radio in Marx’s unmarked car blared the news and he floored the accelerator, turning left down Seventh Street. He picked up the mike and shouted, “This is Detective Marx, clear the blockade on Seventh and Boulder—I’m coming through.” As his car fishtailed, he prayed silently, Let your warning have saved him, Nyx … Let your warning have saved him …

As he sped through the roadblock and the street in front of the Mayo came into view, Marx tightened his grip on the steering wheel. A sickness gripped his stomach. Kalona lay crumpled in a heap in the middle of the street. Heedless of his own safety, Marx maneuvered his car between the Mayo and Kalona, forming a shield. He ran to Kalona’s side and knelt. The big guy was still breathing, but it was bad. Worse than bad. He didn’t seem to have any broken bones, and his head hadn’t split open. But the center of his chest was a jagged burned and bloody wound, obviously made by multiple gunshots. The brunt of the fall had been absorbed by Kalona’s enormous wings. They lay around him in pieces, shattered as if they had been made of black porcelain. Blood seeped from the broken bones that protruded through the raven-colored feathers. Marx did the only thing he knew—he pressed both of his palms to the chest wound an applied pressure.

“Hang on, Kalona. There’s an ambulance coming.”

His amber eyes opened and he focused on Marx. “Tell Aphrodite she was right.” He had to force the words, and the effort made him cough and moan.