Dreams of a Dark Warrior

“I’m about to
do
evil! Help a bitch out!”
    But she was gone, leaving Regin and Natalya trappedlike sitting ducks, still wearing their torques, while Pravus soldiers began prowling the ward. Once they’d eliminated the humans, they’d be coming for their true adversaries.
    They’ll come prowling for us.
    As Declan marched out of his sanctum into the sealed-off research ward, he swept an assessing glance over the area.
    Down the corridor in front of the multi-ton bulkhead, three dozen soldiers had set up a secondary barricade, just as he’d instructed them in repeated exercises.
    They’d improvised with lighting, illuminating the ward with randomly placed outdoor spotlights and chemical glow sticks.
    At this end, farthest from the bulkhead, dozens of terrified scientists and other support staff huddled. They’d evacuated here as per the contingency plan he’d made them drill again and again. He dimly noted that they looked relieved to have spotted him.
    Dixon wasn’t among the evacuees. Had she been, he would’ve tossed her to the fucking wolves.
    Vincente was absent, the loyal guard who’d apparently been trying to tell Declan about Regin.
    But Fegley was here.
And I don’t have time to kill him right now.
    The need to defend his base burned within Declan.
My land.
My
territory.
He ruthlessly drove thoughts of Regin—and of Webb’s revelation—from his mind. If he didn’t secure the facility, all would be lost. Including her.
    Declan pointed at Fegley and said simply, “You’re as good as dead.” The man cringed.
    At the barricade, Declan called for the senior officer. “Where are the breaches?”
    “In ward two, Magister. Soldiers trapped behind the bulkhead radioed that there are at least twenty confirmed cell breaches. There’s some kind of foreign miscreat in there, a being from the outside. Nothing can stop her. None of our weapons. She’s somehow removing the torques from specific prisoners.”
    Impossible.
But then, how the hell had she even gotten in here? “Which prisoners?”
    “The most violent ones, sir.”
    Regin was in that ward. “Why haven’t the soldiers gassed the place?” Each guard carried canisters of nerve gas and a breathing apparatus as part of his standard gear.
    When the radio crackled with hoarse yells, Declan snatched it up, ordering, “Deploy your canisters. Now!” No response. “Confirm the order and carry it out!”
    “Sir, the Sorceri … raising a … and fire …” In the background, screams of terror rang out. Glass cell walls continued to shatter.
    “Goddamn it, gas them!” Gurgling sounds followed. Then utter chaos.
    The guards flanking Declan went bug-eyed. The floor began vibrating. Then came a sound Declan couldn’t believe.
    The steel cell walls in ward two were groaning as they … crumpled.
    Just then some force battered their bulkhead, denting the six-foot-thick metal.
    The civilians screamed; Declan clenched his slackened jaw, then ordered, “If it goes, fire at will.” The guards clutched their weapons—MK 17s, TEP-Cs, grenade launchers. “Steady …” He cocked and aimed his own rifle.
    These were hardened soldiers, handpicked by the Order, but they knew what awaited them if they fell into the hands of these enemies.
    A fate worse than death.
    Another pounding of unimaginable power. Then another. “Steady …”
    The bulkhead flew open in a rush of sparks, like a door kicked in. A shock wave of air and sound clouded his vision, deafening him. Dust and smoke every-where.
    Through the murky gap left behind, winged demons soared above. Cerunnos slithered in.
    “Hold them back!” Declan yelled, firing at the demons, burning through a clip in seconds. He grounded four of them, then stormed to the opening to meet the threat head-on. A volley of bullets whizzed past his head as his men covered him.
    Declan fought his way past the onslaught, but as soon as he caught his first look at the facility, his breath left him. Dozens of prisoners ran free. The bulkhead to ward two had also been breached, and a … a
mountain
was rising within.
    Two Sorceri females stood nearby; Declan recognized Portia and Emberine—the Queen of Stone and theQueen of Flames. Neither wore a torque, which meant both possessed their full ungodly powers.
    With a wave of her hand, Portia continued to draw up that colossal pediment of rock.
    Emberine was beside her, incinerating any soldiers who’d had been caught outside the research ward. One shot to the