Sitting down on a lounge, I hang my head back in frustration. Jagger sits down opposite me.
“How did you convince Braxton?”
“Huh?” Jagger responds, not hearing me initially.
“What did you say to convince Braxton to let me come along?”
His face turns sorrowful. “About a week ago, I overheard one of the High Ruler’s guards sending a communication to someone in Tyre. He was providing the man with tactical information on how to breach the security around Acheron. I told Braxton this, but of course he didn’t believe me. Then a few days ago, Braxton located a transmission that was sent from the High Ruler’s office to the High Ruler of Tyre. He thought it suspicious and confronted the High Ruler about it. Artemis laughed at him. Apparently he said ‘can’t a son talk to his father’.”
“Wait, what? Vladim is Artemis’ father?” I ask interrupting him.
“It appears that way. It also sounds like they’re planning an invasion. Braxton pulled me aside to admit he was wrong. I talked about the need to protect you from the High Rulers if there was to be an attack and the only sure way to do it was to bring you along to Nuceira.”
“He’s protecting me? But why?”
“He’s fed up with Artemis, and Acheron. He wants change, and we all know you’re the one who can bring that change.” He stands and heads down the corridor, away from me.
I feel a great weight being placed upon my shoulders that I don’t think I can carry.
A storm kicks up outside, heavy rain, lightning. Winds pummel the exterior of the shuttle, but we don’t hear anything inside, nor does the vehicle sway in any way. Lightning strikes close by, causing the power in the shuttle to flicker then go out. I look out the window to watch the storm as it grows fiercer.
I catch movement off to my right, just along the tree line about fifty yards from the platform, but can’t see if it’s anything important as the wind is thrashing the trees about. Another bright flash erupts, allowing the image to remain in focus longer.
Quin.
“Jagger,” I shout.
“What?” He inquires, as I hear him race towards me.
“Quin’s outside,” I say, pointing to where I last saw him.
“Braxton underestimated him.” Jagger walks over to a cabinet behind the sofa on the right and extracts two Levin guns.
“Why didn’t you tell me about these earlier?” I demand, as he hands me one.
“These won’t work against the windows or the door…I already tried it.”
Lightning flashes again, briefly showing Quin’s outline still lurking in the shadows.
I lower myself so that only the top of my head and eyes are exposed. The storm grows again, rain falling heavier still. As the sky lights up, I watch Quin slowly make his way towards the platform. Jagger pokes my shoulder then points to an area on our left.
Four Morrigan in full armor gear, including masks, are approaching from the opposite side. They’re moving faster than Quin so I estimate they’ll be at the shuttle in a matter of minutes.
“Go hide,” I tell Jagger, pushing him away from me.
“No, I need to protect you.”
“I know, but right now I need to protect you.”
He stares into my eyes, sorrow and pain filling his. I imagine the truth is uncomfortable for a warrior such as Jagger, but I don’t have time to sugar-coat this.
“You’ll be no match against Quin and the Morrigan will kill you the minute they see you. You need to trust me on this, Jagger, you need to go hide.”
I take his hand and give him my Levin gun then kiss him gently on the cheek, brushing the blonde tresses away from his blue eyes. I smile at him, trying to mask the fear that has violently begun to rise in me and watch as he disappears into the shadows.
I go over to the couch to the left of the door, and back in to the shadows to give myself a little cover. Faces appear in the windows, looking inside. It’s at this moment I pray for Trea to appear, but I still can’t just call her from the recesses of my mind. Fear has driven her into disappearing; only anger will make her materialize.
I take a deep breath as the door slides open, metal being forced to part. Quin stands in the doorway, drenched. He takes a step in, raising a Levin gun in front of him.
“I know you’re here, Trea. This will all be easier if you come out of the shuttle willingly,” he says, puddles forming around his feet.
“Why, Quin?” I ask, still sitting in my spot, “Why would you do this to your own kind?”
“We’re not the same, Trea. You and the others were created for destruction. I was designed for protection. I was redeemed from the hell that was the Dormitories, and the bastard scientists who felt like playing God. I was saved by the Morrigan and Parson Mathan. And so shall you be.”
He fires the gun in my direction, but misses. I jump to my feet, looking for any venue of escape, but I’m trapped. He fires again, missing my head by mere inches.
“All right,” I shout, raising my hands above my head and stepping out into view. “You win.”
He smiles as he places his gun into his holster. He grabs my arms, forcing them down along my sides before escorting me out of the shuttle and into the rain. Binders are secured to my wrists behind my
