Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga) (44 page)

“I lost many things that day.”

“And I took them from you.” The MWR stepped close enough for her to smell his sickly sweet cologne, “I bet you wanted to kill me then.”

“I was five,” Grace replied. “So no, that wasn’t on my to-do list.”

“And now?” he asked. “Hate is just another form of passion, my dear. So you must admit that at least part of your passions are dedicated to me, even if only for my destruction.”

“I won’t shed a tear for you, I promise you that.”

“Not very forgiving of you.”

“We all have our faults,” she said dryly.

“You talk of patience and self-control,” Alexander said. “But deep down you know that you’d give anything to exact vengeance upon me for all the pain I’ve caused you. For killing a woman you loved as a mother, uprooting you from your home and making you a refugee all your life. And then of course there is your father, fool that he was to challenge me yet again.”

Grace kept her calm, “There are more important things, Alexander, than vengeance. You will pay dearly for all the evil you have unleashed upon the world. You know the God I serve; he is sovereign, even over you.”

Alexander laughed, “After all the things you have seen in your lifetime and all the pains you have suffered, can you really still believe that an all-powerful God holds the fabric of this universe together? And that—even if he does—he cares
anything
about you? You Christians are worthless, telling the world to look toward an eternal future and a loving God, all the while forgetting to pursue the great glory of mankind! You are a disease of our race, and the time has come for you to be purged.”

“You care nothing for mankind,” Grace challenged. “All you have ever been concerned with is the legend of Napoleon Alexander. You would do well to remember that many men across the ages have thought as you do. Their empires and kingdoms have fallen, and we still stand.”

“Change is coming, my dear. Never assume something that always was, always will be.”

Grace breathed out an impatient sigh, “Am I to be interrogated, or do I have to endure this torture all day?”

“There will be no interrogation,” Alexander said. “You will die in the Central Square tonight. Death by burning, just like Lauren Charity before you. And in death, Miss Sawyer, you will not bring glory to your cause or to your God. You will glorify the System and perish as a testament to its power.”

Despite her shock that the sentence would be carried out so swiftly, Grace refused to show fear. “When God welcomes me into his kingdom tonight, he will tell me for whose glory I gave my life.”

“Such a misguided child,” Alexander stepped closer to her. “You look to this unknown, unseen God for strength, and I can’t help but wonder if it is because you have never known true power.” His hand came up slowly to stroke her cheek, “You are a beautiful woman, Commander Sawyer. I could offer you a new path—a life of luxury and contentment, filled with all the riches and glory you can imagine. I could make you the most powerful woman in the world.”

Grace retreated from Alexander’s touch with disgust, “Don’t even make me waste my breath on an answer.”

The MWR smiled, “My dear girl, do you really believe you can deny me? If I want something, I have every right to
take
it!” He reached out to grab her, but she backed out of his reach.

“Don’t you touch me!” She moved further away from him, but in a moment she would reach the door and have no place else to go.
Okay
, she thought.
That’s enough
. She struggled with the bindings on her hands, and nearly descended into a panic…she couldn’t get free! McCall had promised her that he wouldn’t tie them securely!

Alexander moved toward her with slow, taunting steps. “I can see now why the grand admiral was so loathe to give you up to the Specter Captain. He asked me for a go at you before you were officially transferred to the Shadow Soldier, did you know? I can’t blame him. What man wouldn’t risk everything to call such an exquisite creature his own?”

“A man not enslaved to his desires,” Grace snapped. “A good man.”

Alexander laughed as she backed into the golden doors. “There are no good men, as you’ll soon see.”

“I’m warning you, Alexander…”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the doors, the smell of him violating the very air she breathed. “Wake up, foolish girl! You’re at the mercy of the most powerful man on the planet—in his chambers, at his stronghold, in the very center of the most guarded city in the world. Scream or cry for help, and though the people outside may hear you, they won’t come to your aid. They exist at my beck and call, and for fear of me they have absolutely no concern for you. No one is coming to save you.”

Grace pulled at the bindings again, to no avail. Her sense of alarm grew as the truth of Alexander’s words hit her hard, and her strength nearly gave out. There was nothing she could do to escape. She was totally at his mercy.

Alexander watched with a sickening smile as her confidence melted, “Is it becoming clearer to you now, my dear? This helplessness you feel—this inability to escape my will—that is how the entire world will feel once Silent Thunder is gone. Once they realize there will be no deliverance from my power, no shelter from my decrees…they will feel as you do: lost and alone, without a prayer of rescue. And you have made this possible. It is because of you that Silent Thunder will fall.”

Grace remembered Lauren Charity’s words, and a passionate flame returned to her eyes, “The sun will still rise tomorrow.”

Alexander looked as though she’d pierced him through the chest. Then a wave of fury overcame him and he pushed her harder against the door, “Enough talk. It’s time for me to take what is mine.”

“I will
never
be yours!” She shifted her hands behind her back and suddenly—she was free.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Alexander smiled. “You might even enjoy it.” His face was no more than an inch from hers when her hand shot up and struck his left cheek with such force that he took a few strides backward, crying out in pain and clutching his cheek like a wounded animal.

Grace watched long enough to see that she had drawn blood, and then grabbed the handle on the door behind her. She pulled with all her might, making a crack wide enough for her body to slip through.

“No!” Alexander screamed, hand still pressed to his face. “Stop!”

But she did not heed him. She burst into the hallway, and if she wasn’t in such an emotional frenzy she might have laughed. The guards looked at her with confusion, then looked at one another as though to confirm what they were seeing. The aide behind the desk to the left froze in utter terror, and for a brief moment the hallway stood suspended in awkward hesitation.

Then Alexander’s howling voice cut angrily through the air, “Fools! Stop her or it’ll be
you
I send to the Central Square tonight!”

Grace bolted. The guards sprang into action after her, but luckily they weren’t as quick on their feet. She had a good lead, though that might not matter considering the hallways in the Crown Section were short and provided only so far to run. She heard the aide scream into her phone, “All palace personnel, be on alert! The rebel Grace Sawyer is loose in the palace!”

Grace rounded a corner and saw the door right where McCall had said it would be. Taking into account that it led outside—and she was near the top of the Crown Section pillar—she slammed her hand on the red button beside it. Alarms began blaring as the emergency door slid open, and rush of high-altitude air washed over her. She stepped through the door onto a metal staircase, and looked down. The black stairs spiraled down to the main section of the building. Then she looked out over the courtyard to the defense centers and the rest of the city beyond. It was a long shot, but if she could make it past the guards then she might have a chance.

She descended quickly, knowing the odds of a successful escape were almost nonexistent. But escape was not her goal; she was only the diversion. Grace heard the clang of boots on metal as the guards above came out onto the stairwell, and to her horror she felt more coming up from below. She was trapped. In a few seconds they would have her, and it would be back to the clutches of Napoleon Alexander. Faced with that possibility, she knew one thing for certain:

Death would be far better.

-X-

Alexander reached into his desk drawer for a cloth to wipe the blood from his cheek.
Insolent girl
, he thought.
When they bring her back I’ll show her why no one defies me
. And they would bring her back, there was no doubt. She might have escaped once, but she would not do so again. He smiled as he imagined all the ways he would make her pay.

And then, suddenly, the lights in his office went dark. He looked up at them suspiciously,
That’s never happened before
. It was still early, and without lights he was plunged into darkness. He turned to the window behind his desk and watched as the blackout spread beyond the palace to the entire city. Block-by-block, all of the lights in Alexandria went out, leaving only a canvas of black shapes against the bluing eastern sky.

He had never seen anything more eerie or disturbing.

The door clicked and his anger burned, prepared to rail on someone for this colossal failure of his supposedly perfect infrastructure. But instead the golden doors opened to reveal the dark form of Admiral McCall, who strode into his quarters without ceremony or respect.

“Admiral,” Alexander said in exasperation. “Don’t you have an execution to prepare for?”

He drew
Amicus
, “As a matter of fact, I do.” The blade came to life in a white flash, and McCall held it confidently at his side. “In the name of the free peoples of the world, I declare your rule at an end.”

Alexander’s eyes shifted down to the open drawer where his black Gladius lay. Silver letters engraved on the hilt declared,
Libertas
. McCall surged forward and so did he, hand diving into the drawer for the Gladius and deftly moving it into a defensive position in time to block McCall’s killing blow. He stared at the old admiral over the crossed white spikes, “Well played,
Amicus
. Not even I suspected you a traitor.”

“The only traitor here is you,
Libertas
,” McCall spat. “You are a disgrace to your country and the name worn by your blade. You know nothing of liberty, nor did you ever.”

“You came for my life, old man,” Alexander’s eyes flashed. “You should have known never to let me reach my Gladius.” He pushed away from him and struck at McCall with speed, feeling the rush of battle flow through him, blood pumping with adrenaline and his chest filled with the sweet, glorious elation of battle. So long since he had felt it, trapped up here in this pillar running a government, and how he had missed it. His elation spurred him to laughter as he dueled with the admiral, their blades a whir of white light barely visible to the naked eye.

McCall held his own against the attack, and both men fought with a skill the new Specters could only have dreamed about. Theirs was a battle of giants, masters of the blade whose every nuanced move was countered by an opposing strike. But the admiral had the edge: he had been training his new recruits for months, while Alexander could measure the time since his practical use of the Gladius in years. A sideways swipe hit its mark, and the tip of
Amicus
sliced into the skin of Alexander’s left shoulder.

The MWR cried out in pain but fought through it boldly, gaining more and more momentum as his muscles remembered the old art of swordplay. In his youth only one man had rivaled him, and that man was dead. He would not allow a second-rate swordsman like McCall to defeat him. The old man was better than he remembered, however—
much
better. If the battle lasted much longer Alexander’s wounded shoulder would be the end of him, for it already complained louder with every movement.

And then the impossible happened. Their blades collided hard and a blinding white light filled the room. Alexander felt his blade give way, and a terrible noise rent the air like a hundred panes of glass all shattered in the same instant. He looked down at
Libertas
, lighter in his hand, and saw the remnants of a broken blade. The diamond armor flickered for a second and died. McCall’s Gladius had sliced right through it. He stood up straight and faced the admiral, tossing his worthless weapon aside, “I see you kept some upgrades to yourself.”

“The secrets we keep close are often the ones that save our lives,” McCall said. “Advice that fortunately, you will not live to learn.”

Alexander knew himself for a proud man, but he was not a fool when it came to the odds of battle. Thus when Admiral McCall drew back to land the final strike, he knew himself defeated. He closed his eyes, near laughter at the irony. For fifteen years he had been loathe to leave the walls of the palace for fear of his enemies’ retribution. Now he would die in his own room.

But instead of a sword through his heart, the sound of a gunshot pierced his ears. His eyes snapped open in time to see
Amicus
fall from McCall’s fingers, and then the admiral himself crumpled to his knees. Grand Admiral Donalson stood behind him in the doorway, gun barrel still smoking.

Alexander fought down his feelings of gratitude and turned his gaze upon McCall, who tried vainly to plug the exit wound in his chest. Blood spread over his hand and into his navy uniform, leaving no doubt that the wound was fatal. Alexander screwed his features into a look of disdain, and raised his boot to the admiral’s shoulder. He pushed the old man onto his back and bent to retrieve the fallen Gladius, setting its point against his throat even as he struggled for life.

“Who are you working for, old man?” Alexander demanded. “Silent Thunder was finished after Jonathan Charity, and they couldn’t have come back without help—more help than any number of my traitorous nobles could provide. Who is it? The Argentineans? Wellington? Not even you would stoop so low as to work with the Persians. Tell me, you old fool!”

McCall let out a stream of rasping laughter, “You are the fool, Patrick. You, and all those who follow your madness. Your dog may have stopped me, but you are the target of a thousand foes, and he will not stop them all.”