Wonder Woman: Warbringer (DC Icons #1)(108)

She thought of Maeve’s freckles that seemed to float above her skin, of Rani’s gentle nature, of Thyra’s giddy laugh. Would they know when she was gone? Could they sense her pain now? She thought of her mother seated at the table in the palace beside Tek, turning to greet Diana as she raced up the stairs, opening her arms to welcome her home. What did you learn today, Pyxis? said Tek with a smile, and Diana felt no bitterness now, only the ache of knowing there would be nothing more. She heard the wet release of Pinon’s mouth.

Protect them, she prayed, and then she thought no more.





Alia thrashed in the arms of the soldiers dragging her along the road, past a line of armored trucks and Humvees.

“Jason, stop this,” she pleaded. “You can’t let them die. Not Nim, not Theo. They’re no threat to you. You can let Diana go home. Please. Jason—” She didn’t even know what she was saying anymore; it was just a series of entreaties, one more desperate than the last. She knew she was crying. Her voice was raw. Her arms ached where Jason’s soldiers had hold of her. Their fingers felt unnaturally strong, like steel prongs.

When they reached the back of one of the trucks, a soldier passed Jason a canteen full of water. He drank deeply, but when he offered it to her, she slapped it from his hands. The soldiers yanked her arms back tighter? and she snarled at them, kicking out with her legs as they lifted her off the ground. Jason sighed.

“Alia!” he barked. He set his hands on her shoulders. “Alia,” he said more gently. “Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

A sound that was half sob, half laugh ripped free of her throat. She stared at him. Her brother. Her protector. Her friend. His face so like hers that it was almost like looking into a mirror. “Jason,” she said quietly. “Please. I am begging you. Help them.”

He shook his head, and she saw true sorrow in his eyes. “I can’t, Al. A war is coming. People like Nim and Theo won’t survive it. This is a kindness.”

“Stop talking that way.”

“I’m sorry. This is how it has to be.”

The emotion that rose in her felt like something rupturing down her center, cracking her in two. Jason, who had read to her, who had let her cry herself to sleep curled into his side, who had walked to school with her every day for months because she’d been afraid to ride in a car after the accident. He couldn’t be doing this thing, this horrible thing.

“No, it doesn’t,” she said. Jason was the reasonable one, the steady one. She had to make him understand. “It doesn’t. We can undo this. We can make it right.”

“Alia, I know you don’t see it, but I know what’s right for both of us.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And I’m afraid it’s too late.”

Alia followed his gaze and retched, her mind rejecting the horror before her. Pinon, Jason had called her, the Drinker. She was emerging from the trees, being herded toward the open back of a Humvee. But she didn’t look as she had when his men had unleashed her by the river. Her body was bloated, the skin gray and distended; her swollen tail dragged on the ground behind her. Kill the others. Drain the Amazon.

Diana was dead. She was dead, and this thing was full of her blood.

“Have her disgorge and bring me the ampoules,” Jason commanded. “I want to start processing the data on the way to base.”

Two of the soldiers dragged Pinon into the back of the Humvee. Through its doors, she could see part of it had been converted to cages.

Another of Jason’s men said, “Will you be taking the helicopter to base, sir?”

Sir.

“No, I want the Seahawk keeping an eye on the surrounding territory and making sure we didn’t draw any unwanted attention. We’re safer on the ground, and we don’t have much time until the sun goes down. Set a fire once we’re a few miles out and make sure the bodies burn.”

How could he say these things? “You’re talking about burning our friends.”

“I’m doing what has to be done.”

“I will never forgive you, Jason. Never.”

Jason’s gaze was sad, but it didn’t falter. “You will, Alia. Because you’ll have no one else. You are the Warbringer, and when the sun sets, you will fulfill your destiny and pave the way for me to fulfill mine. One day, you’ll learn to forgive me. But if you don’t, I’ll find a way to live with that. It’s the price I’m willing to pay for a world transformed. That’s what heroes do.”

Now she did laugh, an ugly sound of serrated edges. “You were my hero. The wise one. The responsible one. But you’re the kind of guy Mom and Dad would have hated.”

“Dad would have understood.”

“This is really about him, isn’t it?” Alia said as the pieces shifted into place. “All that talk about generals and warfare, but this is about Dad. This is because you’re so desperate to be a Keralis instead of a Mayeux.”

“Be careful. Be cautious,” he sneered, mocking their mother’s warnings. “Is that how you want to live? Playing by their rules instead of making our own?”

“You are playing by their rules—choosing the strong over the weak, turning against the people who always had your back.”

“These are my people,” he said, spreading his hands wide. “Heroes. Winners.”