Page 7 of Remnants
“Aim!”
Time to go.
“Fire!”
I jump into a handstand, then swivel and kick my feet around, sending a forceful gust of wind throughout the room.
Their mistake was thinking I could only control my gift with my hands.
The burst of air throws the agents crashing into the wall.
Bringing my feet back to the ground, I step on the substance between my hands and pull myself up. It takes a solid few seconds of effort before it starts to move. To stretch and thin as I keep the momentum going.
“Jack.” Aiden has a small opening in his wall where he’s half-way through, his whip sword out.
He doesn’t need to say anything else. I shift my body away fromthe goo as much as I can, holding my arms out and apart, and his sword slices through it with ease.
I doubt a regular knife could have done it, but Aiden’s sword is made of pure titanium and sharpened perfectly to his will.
Gunshots fire behind me. I spin, waving an arm with a sludge-covered hand, and send the bullets back to their owners. It takes out five of the thirty agents. A couple are still knocked out or struggling to get up from hitting the wall, but the rest look like they’re readying their own gifts.
Ordinarily, I would enjoy taking them down one at a time. But I’ve taken too long already.
Holding out my arms, I begin to draw in the surrounding air toward me, sucking it in with me at its center. It doesn’t matter that my hands are blocked. My arms direct it just the same, until a wind vortex spirals around me. A few agents drop to their knees and grab their throats as the air around them thins.
Once I have what I need, I lash out with the accumulated air in a loop. Slashes of wind strike at the agents indiscriminately, cutting them with one or more deep lacerations like the one given to Reid.
All the agents fall at once, ruby red coloring the circling breeze. Whether an agent was struck multiple times or only once makes no difference.
They’re dead.
My chest heaves as I catch my breath, the strength needed to pull off that attack draining more from me than I’d prefer, but it would be better to make it to Raegan faster than worry about conserving energy. The goo on my hands thins and drops in a heap of sludgenow that its user is dead.
I turn before I’m ready, my foot catching on the ground as I stumble, but my other foot steadies me. I keep moving to Aiden, who has taken down the shield and is tending to Reid.
“Wake him up,” I murmur. “I blocked some of Thorne’s attack, so it shouldn’t be fatal.”
“How long would it take you to fly to the bunker first?” Aiden asks as he tries to wake Reid.
“Too long. Either he teleports us, or we’re too late.”
Aiden frowns, jostling Reid a bit harder while trying not to further injure the deep laceration crossing his back from Thorne. “Reid.Reid. If you want to save Tinsley, get up!”
I squat by Gordon lying on his front, eyes closed. His skin is pale, and blood drools past his lips. I press two fingers to his neck, seeking out his pulse.
Nothing.
I check again at his wrist.
He’s dead.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It doesn’t settle my anger and frustration at the situation one bit. We may have Gordon like I promised her, and I’ll still bring him to her, but this wasn’t what she wanted.
I yank the blade from him and kick him onto his back, pointing the weapon at him even though he’s long gone. “You may be dead, but I’ll make sure you get no second chances,” I promise him. “She gets what she wants first, and then you’re mine.”
Reid groans.
“Reid!” Aiden shouts. “No one is answering at the bunker. Can you move?”
