Five armored men rushed into the chamber. Where were they coming from? They ignored the angels fight above and ran straight for the relics. I tossed magic powder on the gold coins that lay across the floor. The gold glowed orange, and smoke rose from the men’s shoes. They hopped in alarm, scrambling away from the gold. In their hurried retreat, one of them stumbled into the middle of the firefight between Nero and Damiel.

The others hopped and skipped between the glowing coins, trying to get to the relics. I grabbed hold of one guy’s arm, holding him there.

I stared into his eyes. “Shoot your comrades.”

The man nodded, taking a gun from the floor He aimed at the other men and fired. He knew exactly where the weaknesses in their armor were. After he’d shot them down, he froze for a moment, shaking his head. I could feel my control slipping away from his mind. I’d been through too much. I didn’t have enough power left in me. I lifted my hand to knock his gun away, but I was too slow. He shot me in the stomach.

I fell to my knees. Though blurry eyes, I saw him walk toward the relics. I pushed agains the weight of the impending blackout, struggling to my feet. I had to get to him. I had to stop him. He already had a piece of the silver armor in his hand.

A sword tip broke through his chest, piercing him from behind. He dropped dead to the ground. My eyes panned up, expecting to see Nero. But it wasn’t Nero. He and Valiant were still fighting up above.

Seconds passed. My mind struggled to stay unconscious. Blood dripped down my body. I blinked.

“How did you get down here?” I asked, blinking again.

My mind was slow, failing to possess what I was seeing. He wore the weapons of heaven and hell. The silver armor fitted his wide, masculine body as perfectly as it had fitted Sierra’s. He held a shield in one hand, a sword in the other.

“I wasn’t going to let anything stand between me and my relics,” Valiant said.

Flames flickered on the sword, hatred burned in his eyes.

“Thank you, Leda,” he said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Then he swung the sword, blasting the angel-killing flames at the two angels.

19

Powerless

His aim was shit. The flames didn’t hit the angels, but they did get their attention. Nero and Damiel stopped fighting. Nero snapped out of whatever trance he’d been, and when he saw Valiant donning the weapons of heaven and hell, he grew dangerously still.

Valiant bother with banter. He went straight for the killing blowing. He swung the sword, shooting the blue flames at the angels again. Damiel used magic to block. Surprisingly, his spell dissolved the blue flames. Wasn’t the sword’s magic supposed to be stronger than an angel’s?

Valiant was clearly wondering the same thing. “Why are you working properly?” he demanded, shaking the sword. “Maybe it needs to warm it up.”

Nero and Damiel weren’t giving him a chance to test that theory. They blasted magic at him, trying to knock the sword out of his hand. The psychic spells slid uselessly against the silver armor. That seemed to be working. It was supposed to nullify enemy magic.

Encouraged by the armor’s success, Valiant blasted more blue fireballs at the angels, but Damiel super-shield held.

“I think you’re doing it wrong,” I commented.

“Shut up.” He shook the sword again.

He was focusing on the sword. His eyes weren’t on the angels. Damiel motioned to Nero to go right, and Nero nodded.

I wasn’t in any condition to fight right now, especially not against the relics of heaven and hell. I knew I had to distract Valiant so the angels could move in unnoticed. I could do that. I could talk. At least talking would help me stay conscious, help me fight the warm wave of lethargy consuming my body one muscle at a time.

“You were the one who hired these armored men, who hired Osiris, to find the relics. And the Legion never suspected a thing?”

It was an invitation for him to talk about how clever he was. Villains liked doing that. This particular villain had done a lot of planning and plotting. He’d fooled the entire Legion, and he was dying for a chance to toot his horn.

He took it. “You make good soldiers at the Legion. Powerful, forceful brutes. But you are not thinkers. You’re not clever. The others are blinded by duty and honor and ambition. But you, Leda. You are just naive. Fooling you was easy. Maneuvering you right where I wanted you was easy.”

I glared at him.

“I told you right what I needed you to know, piece by piece, to make you do what I wanted you to do. Or did you think it was an accident that I shared that piece of poetry with you, the key to the puzzle. It had to be you to open the door. I’ve heard about you, Leda Pierce. What you’ve done. Your magic.”

“Light and dark.”

“Yes, light and dark, the perfect vessel for the memories of the relics of heaven and hell,” he said. “The Legion is arrogant, so used to everything being something they understand, something they can control. Black and white. They can’t see past their well-established hierarchy, their tired view of the world. They can’t read between the lines. They can’t see how special you are. But I knew. And when I read that poem, I knew I would need you to open the way. To lead me to the relics.”

“Your hired guns were talking about a spell that unlocked my memories?”

“Another useful bit of knowledge I found in my research.” He smiled like he was in awe of his own genius. “They performed the spell when we first came to the ruins. That unlocked your memories, memories the Nectar had already brought to the surface of your mind.” He smiled at the sword. “Finally, after all these years, it’s mine.”