Chapter 54
Electra
Fire brightens the tree line.
Malachi’s expression sharpens. “What the hell was that?”
“Looked to me like an explosion,” Gael murmurs.
“What I meant was: What the hell just exploded?” my brother grits out.
I inch nearer to the window above the sink, my heart squeezing my ribs as two possibilities take shape: a bomb or…
I lick my lips, afraid to even think the second one.
“The chopper…” Dorian murmurs. “Please tell me that wasn’t the chopper.”
I look up at him, my heart contracting.
Dorian whirls around. “Monta, call your men. Ask them what that was.” His voice hits such a strident note that it fractures the air.
“It was the chopper,” Alexander says, thumbing his phone screen. “The Hunters must’ve shot it down.”
“No…” Dorian releases a wail that crumples his features and reverberates inside my spleen. “No, no, no, no, no, no.”
“What’s with the panic attack?” Gael asks.
The whites of Malachi’s eyes flush pink as he croaks, “Ines was piloting it.”
Gael takes a bottle of chilled Chardonnay out of the wine fridge and studies the label, before rooting around the drawers for an opener. “My darlin’ wife’s a phoenix, perpetually risin’ from her ashes. She’ll be just fine.”
I’m about to tell him that she won’t be just fine when Dorian shrills, “Mal, call Tarian!”
“Why?” Gael sets about uncorking the wine. “The big boss can’t exactly rewind time.”
Malachi carries the phone to his ear and paces, knuckles white. “Tarian, pick up. Pick up, pick up, pick up.”
Tarian mustn’t pick up because Malachi leaves him a detailed message.
I steal another glance at the fading conflagration, my palms going to my forearms, rubbing as though some friction could rid my bones of their abrupt chill.
I might not have adored Ines… I might even have wished her dead more times than I can count, but not after her apology.
“Why did you call Tarian?” Gael takes a sip of his wine as though his wife didn’t just fall from the sky.
Malachi inhales such a sharp breath that my gaze snaps to him. “Your men are out there, aren’t they, Monta? Call them. Tell them to find her body and bring it here.”
“If we’re facin’ an imminent Hunter attack, don’t you think it’s best they stay put? As I said, my wife’s a phoenix…”
“Your wife is not a phoenix!” Malachi yells. “She’s not even your wife!”
“All right. All right.” Monta sets down his wine glass and retrieves his cell phone. “I’ll make the call.”
The ringtone echoes and echoes in the silent kitchen. Gael hangs up, dials another number.
Another full minute of unanswered ringing reverberates hollowly through the kitchen.
When the call drops, Gael slants his brows. “No one’s answerin’.”
While a new wave of dread coalesces with the lingering threads of my old one, Dorian blasts open the back door with magic and sprints out into the night.
“Dorian, no!” I scramble after him when a wall of magic bounces me back. I turn around, snarling. “Which one of you is blocking—”
“You stay right the fuck here until Tarian and Callie arrive. I’ll go after him.” Malachi lunges past me but draws to a stop. I scowl, hating to be treated like a weak link, until he adds, “Guard the basement. And lock this door.”
My lips straighten, and I give a sharp nod. “Don’t get captured.”
“If I do, break me out?”
I shake my head at his stupid question. Of course I’ll break him out…after I break every single one of his captors’ necks.
“I hope her body’s still in one piece,” I murmur.
Malachi’s throat jostles as he finally races away.
After bolting the door, I return to the kitchen to find Gael filling his wine glass anew.
“Why’s everyone so bent out of shape?” he asks. “It ain’t the first time Ines finds herself in a pickle.”
“She gave up her runes,” I inform him softly.
“Excuse me?” He lowers his wineglass to his hip.
“Ines is no longer immortal, Gael,” I add, even though I assume he’s reached this conclusion on his own.
He blinks. “Did you know, Alexander?”
“How could you ask me that, Pops. Of course, I didn’t know,” my half-brother grumbles, approaching the window. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised Gaea finally recalled them. Our goddess has always been sensible.”
“Alexander,” I hiss, shocked by his lack of empathy. “The woman just died.”
He pivots, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Why are you up in arms? You didn’t even like the woman.”
I slash a hand in Gael’s direction. “She was only the way she was because our father cheated on her repeatedly.”
Gael scoffs. “I didn’t mean to cheat.” When he raises his wine glass to take a sip, I flick my fingers, shoving the glass so its contents splash his unrepentant face.
He blinks—first to clear his eyesight, then at me.
I shake my head. “How could you be so cold? Both of you? Also, why the fuck are you drinking when Hunters are nearby? We need clear minds and a plan,” I say, just as something thumps the ceiling. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Alexander asks.
“I think someone’s upstairs,” I murmur, my heartbeats tightening.
A gust of air suddenly slaps me in the face.
“Electra, Pops, take cover!” Alexander yelps just as the door between the kitchen and dining room flaps open.
An oomph leaves his mouth as he drops.
Just, drops.
My heart holds still before ramming against my ribs when a man in head-to-toe black bursts into the kitchen. I lift a palm, about to bowl the intruder over with magic, when my father barrels into me.
“Get behind me, darlin’!” Instead of dragging me to safety, he sends me hurtling to the floor.
My head cracks against the tiles at the same time as a shot cracks through the kitchen, punching me square in the chest.