Lead Demon

The Calvary

Tomás had barely been gone a minute and Christal was dead and what the hell was going on that everything was falling to s**t so quickly?

He jumped up and ran to the edge of the motel, ready to send out a signal, ready to scream that they were under attack, when he realized the power was coming from the west. From Outer Chicago. And there was no way the enemy could be coming from there. Not when Outer Chicago was ringed with outposts like his to keep it safe.

Light flared as the door burst open, and Derek ran up beside Seven, followed by two younger recruits. Fire flickered to life all around the edge of the roof, casting garish shadows and splays of light over the crew. Whether the fire was for defense or a beacon or just from Derek’s anger, Seven wasn’t sure.

Derek didn’t even look at Christal’s body. He was too trained on the sky. The others, though, they lingered. Kneeled at her side. Seven looked away.

They would say he did that, too. They would say he killed her to hide the evidence of his treason in the field.

“Commander...” Seven began, not knowing what to say, but Derek cut him short.

“They’re here,” Derek muttered.

“The army, sir?” one of the recruits asked.

Derek glared back at him.

“No, i***t. The f*****g cavalry.”

That’s when Derek noticed Christal.

He turned back to Seven. Seven had seen his commander angry before, but never like this. Derek’s jaw was tight, and full flames swirled around his hands and from the burning Sphere of Fire in his chest.

“What the hell have you done?” he seethed.

Seven didn’t get the chance to answer.

Lightning flashed above them as a gust of wind buffeted the roof, sending Seven to his knees.

He blinked away the afterglow, his ears ringing with thunder.

There were three of them—two guys and a girl—all in pale clothes and white trench coats, all emanating more power than Seven had felt in his lifetime...save for what he’d wielded that afternoon.

The blond-haired guy stepped forward. A broadsword was strapped to his back, and his pale, angular face bore a dozen half-healed scars. Something about that face made Seven’s heart flip, almost with recognition, but he was positive he’d never seen him before in his life. The man didn’t speak at first, his arms in front of his chest. He looked like he was assessing their value.

He looked like he didn’t enjoy what he saw.

“Outpost 37,” he said. “I’m Jarrett, captain commander of Outer Chicago. I’ve been sent here to handle the rest of this mission.” His eyes looked over all of them again. Maybe it was Seven’s imagination, but they seemed to linger on him.

“And one of you has f****d up.”

*

“This is madness,” Derek said, chasing behind Jarrett. Seven and the others followed them down the steps. The other newcomers were silent, ghosting behind them all. Easy to forget, if not for the shivers they sent down Seven’s spine every time their cold eyes raked over him.

“What do you expect when your orders are disobeyed so flagrantly?” Jarrett replied. He was taking the steps two at a time, his pale undercut glowing red in the light of Derek’s angry fires.

Even with fear lodged in his gut—surely this would get him discharged or killed or worse—Seven was mildly impressed that Jarrett knew the word flagrantly.

“This is my outpost and my troop. You can’t just waltz in here and—”

Jarrett stopped and spun, and before Derek could blink, Jarrett had him pinned against the wall, one hand to Derek’s chest and the other holding a dagger to Derek’s neck.

“This outpost is owned and run by Outer Chicago,” Jarrett said. There wasn’t the slightest hint of emotion in his voice, which almost seemed worse than Derek’s anger. “And that means we own and run you. You screwed up, commander. That is why we are here. So I suggest you take your cocky attitude and shove it somewhere dark and quiet, because the army is nearly here. And, quite frankly, I’m more than happy to throw you out there as bloodbait. I can promise you that Cassandra won’t give a damn if you’re gone.” He resheathed the dagger and patted the side of Derek’s face, smiling. “Understood?”

He stepped back, turned and continued down the steps until they reached the bottom floor. Derek seethed silently behind him, fires flickering in and out. Once in the lobby, Jarrett gestured to the strangers he brought with him.

“Devon, Dreya, go secure the perimeter. I want troops every hundred yards. Keep them tight and close to base. You know the drill.”

“You don’t need to change our formation,” Derek said when they were out of sight. “I already have scouts in position.”

“We don’t need scouts,” Jarrett said. “We know the army is coming. And they know where we are. We need our ranks close. Otherwise, our fighters will be swallowed up one by one.”

Derek said nothing.

“And you,” Jarrett said, turning his attention to Seven. “What are you?”

It wasn’t so strange a question. Not anymore.

“Earth and Water. Sir.”

“That one’s a fuckup,” Derek interjected. “Nearly cost us the whole mission this afternoon, which is probably why you’re here. Went against orders.”

Jarrett eyed Seven up and down, a hint of...something...in his pale eyes. “He doesn’t seem the insubordinate type. What happened?”

“He—”

“I was asking him,” Jarrett said quietly. Why was his voice so familiar? “What happened today, soldier?”

“I used magic. Against orders.”

Jarrett’s eyebrows furrowed.

“And why did you do that?”

“I didn’t,” Seven said. “It...it used me.”

“He’s clearly crazy,” Derek said, “or just trying to save his own a—”

The Sphere of Air opened in Jarrett’s throat, harsh and pale blue, and a second later Derek slammed against the wall. Jarrett didn’t even gesture or take his eyes off Seven.

“What’s your name?” Jarrett asked.

“Seven.”

Jarrett’s eyes narrowed.

“And you say your Sphere...what? Acted against your will? Used itself?”

A lump lodged in Seven’s throat, but he forced himself to speak.

“We were surrounded. Only two of us left. I was prepared to die. I swear. But Water just...took over. Before I could stop it...” Seven took a deep breath. Saying it again felt like insanity. “It killed every single Howl surrounding us. In a heartbeat. Before I could try to stop it.”

Jarrett didn’t say anything. Not for a long time. And whether Derek was silent out of newfound respect or some sort of invisible gag, Seven couldn’t say. Seven didn’t care. He couldn’t take his gaze off Jarrett. Not because he was scared—though he was, definitely—but because there was something about the way Jarrett looked at him that sent electricity through his veins. Like Jarrett knew his secrets.

It should have made him feel like he was being appraised. Instead, he felt, in that moment, like the center of Jarrett’s universe.

He couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it.

“Is this the first time it’s happened, Seven?” Jarrett asked. Just hearing Jarrett say his name sent another course of energy through his veins. It was nothing like what he’d felt around Tomás, but the intensity was just as sharp.

“Yes. Sir.”

“Call me Jarrett,” he replied. He lowered his voice. “When this is over...we’ll talk again. At length.” He looked Seven up and down. “I want you to stay out of the fight. The reports say you don’t have many healers out here, so we’ll need all the Earth mages we can get. And if your Spheres are acting up, I think it’s best you stay out of battle.”

Jarrett patted him on the shoulder and left. Derek slumped down from the wall, rubbing his throat. He didn’t approach Seven, but the glare he shot over was enough.