Page 156 of Remnants: Disruption
“I’m going to ask some questions,” I hiss, striding to where Gareth continues to flop uselessly with the spike in his chest. “And you’re going to answer them.”
Gareth stops wriggling, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he’s staring up into the shadows of the cavern roof like God might save him if he prayed enough.
“Yes, my lord,” he whispers and I move closer, frowning at the way he’s begun to shake. “I understand. It was an honor.”
“Don’t you fucking—” I start, but then he explodes.
Literally like chunks of flesh and buggy corpse striking me where I stand.
The force rockets me backwards and strike the base of a building before slumping back onto my hands and knees. Something sharp stabs annoyingly as I try to catch my breath and force myself into a sitting position.
Bits of Gareth are strewn all over the Citadel’s central hub. The statue that looks like it might have once been Cass and early leaders has iridescent fluid dripping from it. The spike that had held Gareth in place now only holds a bit of his torso.
And Cass is sprinting towards me, eyes wild with fear and rage.
I finally stand and put a bracing hand to my very obviously broken ribs that begin to mendfartoo slowly. My legs feel wobbly as I limp towards her.
“Stop,” I hiss painfully, putting up a hand before she reaches me.
She skids to a stop, huffing like she’d sprinted across the cavern. Frenetic orange eyes study me like I’m the one who exploded and not Gareth.
“Where—” I cough up yet another hunk of something. “Where does the lightning bolt begin.”
She blinks a few times, eyes refocusing on my face instead of assessing me for injuries.
“What?” she asks, sounding like Cass, not Bloody Mary.
“Tell me,” I say, wary of the way she moves. The way she breathes.
“Hiraeth,” she breathes, finally glancing around at the market square which now has hundreds of people. Each of them looking between the chunks of their former councilor and the God Queen.
If it is the God Queen.
“That,” I point at the nearest chunk, “shape shifting fuck-stick was powerful and dangerous. He knew things he shouldn’t and said things that don’t make a lot of sense. He was not a sniveling little idiot. He was a malicious spy who blew up like a bomb after he spoke to some sky freak.”
Cass stares at me like I’ve gone mad. And maybe I have. Between the Seer and this, I feel like I’m in some drama written by a deeply traumatized sicko.
“Tell me something only I would know,” I grit out, feeling desperation cling to me like a bad odor.
She approaches more slowly, hands somewhat outstretched like I might lash out.
“I can’t possibly look that feral,” I bark out in a laugh.
Which probably doesn’t help my case.
“I need you to relax,” she says, voice calm but definitely still in acalming the wild animaltone.
I frantically search her face for any sign that it’s really her. That this ismyCassandra.
Then I notice movement in the crowd.
Varun.
I sidestep the alleged Cass and reach for the spindly pale freak.
The shadows respond at once and wrap around his thin frame. The weirdo doesn’t even move. He sort of just stares back at me as I pull him from the crowd.
He dangles a little off the ground as I rotate him a little.
