Wonder Woman: Warbringer (DC Icons #1)(65)

Diana had no idea how feasible a landing was, but she had to believe there was a way out of this, not just for Alia but for the people who had put on their best finery and come here to drink and dance tonight. She could sense their mortal lives flickering, fleeting as the shine of fireflies under glass.

“Ben’s coming,” said Jason. “We need to get to the park.”

Thank all the gods. They had a chance. But the only way out was the wall of shattered windows to their left, and it was far too exposed. Diana couldn’t be a shield for everyone, and all it would take was a single stray bullet, the right moment, the right angle. She couldn’t let that happen. They needed cover. A lot of it. She touched her hand to the temple stone and wondered if she was strong enough to do what she was imagining.

“I can give you enough cover to make a break for the glass wall. I’ll meet you below.”

Alia gripped her arm, her eyes bright with fear. “You’re not coming?”

“They’re barricading the rest of the guests in. I won’t leave innocent people here to die.”

“Diana—”

“Stay with Jason; he’ll keep you safe.”

“They’re too well armed,” said Theo. “You won’t make it.”

“Stay low. When I give the signal, you bolt for the closest corner of the window wall.”

“How will we know—” Alia said.

“Trust me, you’ll know. This temple is coming down, and you need to be on the other side of it when it does.”

Jason offered her his gun. “At least take this.”

She lifted a brow. She was not afraid of these men, only of the harm they might do others, and she would not resort to playing with their ugly toys. “I’m going to choose to ignore this insult, Jason Keralis. Now go.”

As soon as they were moving, Diana wedged her shoulder against the wall of the temple. She thrust her weight against the ancient stones, her battered muscles straining, feeling every aching spot where a bullet had struck. She dug her feet into the slate floor, reaching for strength that seemed just out of her grasp. What if she’d reached the limits of her might and she couldn’t protect them? No. She refused that thought. She sucked in a breath and doubled her effort, grunting with the strain, the threads of her dress popping.

“I am never wearing anything without straps again,” she growled.

Something in the temple creaked. Diana whispered a quick prayer to the goddesses, begging that they would seek Isis’s forgiveness on her behalf, and pushed. The stone beneath her palms shuddered.

“Now!” she shouted.

The temple collapsed with a thunderous roar, sending a huge plume of dust into the air. She drove her legs forward, and the wide heap of stone groaned as it slid into place, blocking off the northwest corner of the window wall—the perfect barricade to keep the soldiers at bay as Alia and the others escaped.

But now the party guests were shouting and running, crowding up against the sealed doorways. She needed a battering ram. Her eyes lit on one of the fallen pillars of the temple. It was huge and unevenly weighted, the stone rough beneath her palms, but she managed to balance the column in her arms. She didn’t know what the soldiers had erected to keep the exit doors shut, but she was going through.

“Move or be crushed!” she commanded as she launched herself toward the exit, surprised by the authority that rang through her voice. Well, she thought, all those years listening to Tek give orders ought to be good for something.

It seemed to work because the crowd scrambled to get clear.

She tightened her grip and drove the pillar into the doors. They gave way with a terrible crash, scattering the wall of sandbags the men had erected behind them. Diana’s momentum carried her into the hallway, past stunned men in body armor. She released the pillar, and it slammed into the wall.

Partygoers poured toward the confused soldiers as Diana tried to fight the tide back to the temple room. One of the men stepped into her path, gun raised.

“Who do you fight for?” he demanded. His hair was so blond it was nearly white and cropped close to his head. She grabbed him by the throat and the wrist and shoved him against the wall, knocking the weapon from his hands.

“Get out of my way.”

She strode past him, but he seized her arm. “Our cause is just,” he said pleadingly. “Stop her. The Warbringer must die before the reaping moon. You cannot know the horrors that will be unleashed.”

“She’s a girl, and she deserves a chance,” Diana said, and wondered if she was pleading her own case, too.

“Not at this price.”

“Who are you to make such a calculation?”

“Who are you?” said the soldier.

Diana gazed into his determined blue eyes. He was right. She was gambling with the future of the world. Under other circumstances, they might have been allies.

“Whoever your leader is,” she said, “tell him there’s another way. There’s a cure, and we’re going to find it.”

“You’re mad,” he said. “The Warbringer must be stopped.”

Maybe she was, but her choice was made. Diana slammed the soldier back against the wall. “Then try and stop us.”

She ran past him, racing toward the window wall. She heard him shout, “Blow it! If we can’t get the Warbringer, we can get her bodyguard.”