Wonder Woman: Warbringer (DC Icons #1)(113)
Diana sucked in a breath and flung her shield at them in a sweeping arc. She let go of the Humvee. It roared forward on a burst of speed. With a running leap, she sprang onto its back, charging up and over the roof. Gunfire exploded around her, the bullets striking her body in a painful hail. She ignored them and launched herself off the Humvee’s hood, directly into its path.
She rolled into a somersault, came up standing, and barely had time to plant her feet and turn, hands held out before her. The Humvee barreled into her, driving her backward, her sandals sliding over the pavement. The force of the impact quaked up her palms, and she gritted her teeth, bracing her shoulders, as the Humvee’s engine roared.
She heard footfalls, soldiers running toward her. How many? Ten? Twenty? More? How fast were they? How strong? Could she fight them all?
Diana looked to the west. The sun had turned a fiery red as it drew closer to the hills. How long did she have until it set completely? How long until darkness fell and their last chance vanished?
When a voice came over the radio declaring, “Sir, we have an incoming hostile,” Jason didn’t seem remotely concerned.
“Local law or big guns?”
“Uh, neither, sir. It’s that girl.”
Alia sat up straighter, the plastic zip ties around her wrists digging into her flesh.
“Girl?” Jason said, craning his neck as gunfire exploded behind them.
Alia was afraid to look, afraid to hope, but she made herself turn.
Diana, sprinting through a torrent of bullets, her shield raised above her head. She leapt forward and seized the rear bumper of the Humvee.
“That isn’t possible,” Jason said, his brow lowered as if he was trying to solve a particularly difficult equation. “Pinon drained her. No one can survive that.”
Men were descending on Diana, drawing closer, the gunfire growing louder. She hurled her shield at them and released the Humvee, but a moment later, Alia heard footsteps on the roof, and in the next second, Diana was standing in the Humvee’s path.
“Take her down,” said Jason.
The driver gunned the engine, and Alia screamed.
They struck Diana head-on, the impact throwing Alia forward against her seat belt. But Diana hadn’t moved. She was planted in the road, her lips drawn back over her teeth, her hands braced against the Humvee’s crossbar.
“My God,” Jason said, peering through the windshield, admiration in his voice. “Look at her.”
He didn’t sound scared. Alia wanted him to sound scared.
“Sir?” said the driver, unsure of himself.
“I want the prota guard. Swords and shields, no guns. Oh, and tell them to try and keep her alive if they can.”
How could he talk this way? As if this was a game—no, an experiment—and he couldn’t wait to record the outcome.
The soldier communicated the order over the radio, and in seconds Alia saw a wave of men flanking Diana as the Humvee’s wheels whirred.
“These are my finest soldiers,” Jason said. “They’ve been blessed with the strength of the greatest heroes to ever walk this earth, but they’ve never faced a challenge like Diana.”
Alia glared at him. “They’re no match for her.”
“Maybe not,” Jason acknowledged. “But they’ll make quite a mess of her while we wait for the sun to set.”
Fresh fury spiked through her. She pulled futilely at her cuffed hands. Diana was here, back from the dead, and Alia could do nothing to help her. She wanted to scream. All of this power inside her, an apocalypse waiting to be born, and what use was it to her?
“I wish we could stay to watch her fight,” Jason said as his prota guard advanced with swords and spears and…nets.
“Why do they have nets, Jason?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“I was shortsighted before. Okay,” he admitted with a small, painfully Jason shrug, “I was overeager. I shouldn’t have had Pinon drain her dry. Alive, she’ll provide me with a permanent supply of genetic material to work from.”
Something dark tore lose in Alia. Jason might not be right about their parents, but he wasn’t totally wrong, either. Her whole life, she’d been told to be careful, to keep her voice low, to make sure she only drew the right kind of attention. Stay calm. Don’t give them a reason. Don’t ever give them a reason. But she’d had a right to her anger then, and she had a right to it now. And what had being careful gotten her, anyway? There had to be justice for Theo, for Nim, for all the pain Jason had caused. Careful wasn’t going to get it. Nemesis. Goddess of retribution.
She heard the beat of wings and recoiled, thinking of Eris, but this sound came from within her, the rustle of something that had slept for too long. Haptandra. The hand of war. What if she were the one to reach for this power?
I am done being careful. I am done being quiet. Let them see me angry. Let them hear me wail at the top of my lungs. The sleeping thing stretched its wings, black and glossy, lit by dark fire. It rose, a dagger in its hand.
Nemesis. What if this power wasn’t only a curse but a gift, something unwieldy and dangerous, passed from a goddess to her daughter, and on and on, something that longed to be used? What if it could be a weapon in Alia’s hand?
She closed her eyes and reached toward that dark, winged thing. She grabbed hold, fastening it to her, so that she was only anger now. Alia could almost feel the shift of wings between her own shoulder blades—and there was no fear, only a vibrant surety. This is mine. This is my right. She nudged at the power inside her and felt it take flight.