She slammed the mace into the ground, and it shattered, releasing a blast of pure power that knocked Crenaxin back, high in the air. She flew back to the church doors at the same time. Veranix didn’t have any chance to check if she was all right. He had to act.
Veranix filled his legs with numina and jumped high, whipping out the rope as he went. Drawing everything he could through the rope, the cloak, his body, he landed on the dragon’s back while the rope coiled around the beast’s neck.
It was time to drag this bastard back to his cave.
Asti was trying very hard not to kill these constables, who were not extending him the same courtesy. They were all desperate to get inside the machine, to let themselves be drawn in and be drained of life to feed the horrible power. He would have been happy to let the zealots find their death in the machine, if he wasn’t certain that the end result would be horrible. He kept his eye on the creatures that were being further altered, and if they completed their transformations . . .
This neighborhood would be the first to suffer, but not the last.
He had already tried killing them, but they were surrounded by a nimbus of magic and power that he couldn’t penetrate with a knife.
“Eyes up, agent,” Satrine said, pulling another constable away from the machine. She had grabbed a set of irons off the constable and locked him up with it, pushing him into one of the others. “You’re drifting off mission.”
She talked like Intelligence. “Authorization?”
“Saints, I’ve been dark for fifteen years,” she said, knocking another constable in the teeth. She had pushed herself closer to Asti, so the two of them were nearly shoulder to shoulder, blocking the way into the cages. Minox was in the back of the crowd, wrestling with one constable in particular, while Verci was using his rooflines to tie up others, while sticking more to the ground with his paste shots. He wasn’t sure how long he and Satrine could hold this line, keep these folks out who were far too eager to die.
“Same,” he said. “A little over a year.”
She nodded, while using a pair of handsticks to protect herself from the constables and knocking them back. “We need to shut this down.”
“Don’t disagree. At least get rid of the other beasts that are changing.”
“Well, they are not the True Vessels,” she said. She then looked at him, like she was surprised by what she said.
No more surprised than Asti was by what he said next. “They do not have the Blood.”
“They are not the Infused,” Satrine said.
“And thus the Power will be rejected,” he said, still not sure where in his head the words were coming from. It was like they didn’t exist until she spoke, and then it was like he had always known them.
“It can be taken back,” she said. “For the Unworthy shall never hold on to it.”
“The Nine must be Contained,” he said in unison with her.
“How?” she asked. Then she scowled. “Grieson.”
“That bastard,” Asti said. She knew his old handler in Intelligence, and whatever just happened must have somehow been his doing. But he also understood. “Whatever this is, it isn’t going to hold, but we have to reverse it.”
“How?” she asked.
Dayne suddenly barreled in, shield first, knocking over the crowd of constables like they were eight pins. “We need to shut the machine down.”
“You think?” Satrine asked, her annoyance clear. “How?”
Dayne glanced up to the sky. Asti followed his gaze to the dragon creature flapping its wings while the Thorn rode on its back like it was an unbroken horse. “Sweet Saint Benton,” Asti muttered.
“Thorn had something. He said Verci should shut it down once Minox connects with it again.”
“Shut it down how?” Asti asked.
“The people in the cages are like wood in a firebox!” Verci shouted as he struggled to bind a few constables and zealots together. “Keep them out long enough, no fire, no steam, no power.”
“We’ll keep them out,” Asti said. “You all do what you can. Minox!”
Minox Welling wasn’t listening. His full attention was on keeping one possessed constable from killing him.
“Damn you, Oren!” Minox swore. His brother’s hands were wrapped around his neck, squeezing with all intent to kill him. “I expected you to be stronger-willed than this.”
“The Nine require the fire to be fueled!” Oren said.
There was something of fascinating curiosity to Oren’s desperate act of martyrdom. It wasn’t just that Crenaxin’s dark power had overridden Oren’s will so he wanted to throw himself in the machine, he had a reason to want to, complete with knowledge of the purpose he was serving. Did the command from Crenaxin that turned all these people into his zealots convey additional information beyond the spoken word? Did they intrinsically understand the dogma and rhetoric of the Brotherhood?
Minox wished he had time to explore these questions while keeping his brother from killing either Minox or himself.
Oren’s hands were wrenched off of Minox’s throat, and Rainey was there, throwing irons on Oren. “We need you back in the machine.”
“In the machine?” Minox asked. “To what end?”
Dayne shouted above the throng of would-be martyrs. He and Asti Rynax were guarding the gap between the spinning rings that allowed access to the cages and the machine controls. “Veranix said to do the same thing you did with Hence. Does that make sense?”
It did, even though Minox had been little more than a vessel following Veranix’s lead at that point. “I’m not certain I can achieve that, but if it can stop this, I will endeavor.”
Verci Rynax tossed a wound-up cord to Rainey. “Iron them, tie them up, keep them out.” He tapped Minox on the arm. “Come on, specs. Let’s save the world.”
“That’s a definite exaggeration,” Minox said. “But we should waste no further time.”
On an unspoken cue, Dayne, Asti, and Rainey all grabbed the throng of zealots and constables and pulled them
