Warnings: parental abuse, cult material

Chapter 21

—T—

I awoke to a dim room, heavy blankets, and throbbing in my ribcage that matched the horrendous headache splitting my skull. As I laid there, allowing my eyes to adjust, I could make out the shape of a nightstand and curtains along the wall immediately in front of me. Judging by the lack of backlight to the fabric, night had probably fallen. (That, or it was just decoration for an outside wall.)

So I had been shot at least a couple hours ago, if not longer.

I had sometimes wondered what it must feel like to be shot. I had never really thought I would ever find out.

Memories of the so-called "healing" they had put me through—what little I could recall of it—just made me shudder with revulsion.

I decided to investigate my cell instead.

Pushing myself upright was potentially a mistake. As cliche as it sounded, my body felt like it had been hit by a freight train. The overwhelming vertigo required a series of very deep breaths and a good minute's wait to pass. Of course, that only created a catch-twenty-two: For each breath I drew in, the throbbing turned into a knife twisting between my expanding ribs.

When I could finally think straight again, a cursory survey of the room—faintly lit thanks to the cracks around the door filtering light from the hall—showed a lamp sitting on the nightstand. Flicking that on revealed the rest of my prison. It seemed to be a standard classroom converted into a decent bedroom, at least. The walls had been drywalled and painted a pale shade of rose, and there was a vanity with mirror; a dresser; a throw rug on the tile floor; what was ostensibly a standard closet—

My wound was momentarily forgotten at the sight of a white dress hanging in the open closet.

Right. The wedding.

They couldn't have me dying before I married Michael.

Thoughts about death led to memories of what had happened and reminded me—they had caught Rowen, too, now. In the midst of wondering what they had done with him, the fact that they had bothered to imprison rather than outright kill him only made me feel marginally better.

But there was nothing I could do about it, just then. My promise to him floated through my mind, renewing my resolve.

First things first: Inspect the cult's handiwork. Dawn had powered down sometime in my sleep, allowing me to lift my shirt and reveal an ugly rope of scar tissue plugging the narrow hole carved into my side. Spirit energy still lingered under the skin, giving it a faint green tinge. I made a face and poked it with one finger, wrinkling my nose further when it squished more than it should have. The ache in my side twinged like a day-old bruise.

'Hopefully Sage can do something with that…' I thought—none too hopefully.

A knock at the door startled me; other than the low hum of chants that constantly pervaded the compound, things had been silent.

My mother, of course, walked in without waiting for an answer. I still couldn't get over how underwhelming meeting her had been. She was a short, stocky woman in a polo and khaki shorts. Salt-and-pepper hair betrayed age that didn't quite jive with the lines of her face—or lack thereof. If one had passed her on the street, they may have assumed her to be the eccentric spinster-ish aunt that tried to be cool and relevant with the hip kids. The only clue of anything Off was a bejeweled sword strapped to her hip.

I caught a brief glimpse of yet another barrier across the threshold of my room before she closed the door.

"I'm so glad you're awake!" she chirped.

"Me, too," I muttered halfheartedly, watching as she came around the bed to set a tray of food on my nightstand. My stomach growled at seeing some kind of Raisin Bran with an apple on the side, but anything that looked remotely like a peace offering was suspicious to me.

The woman moved the chair from the vanity over to my bedside and sat. With a heavy sigh, she twittered on, "I just can't believe what that man did to you. You collapsed within minutes after his purification began! I was so glad to be able to cut the ties and free you."

I bit back a horrified gasp. All I could remember from before I passed out (more likely from blood loss than any supernatural sway, as she claimed) and briefly regained consciousness during the healing was Rowen's pained scream. But if they had put him through what Deborah had tried with me…

"What did you do to him?"

Her tone was so casual as to be totally bland. "We finally succeeded in sealing that demon of a yoroi away. He'll be free of it, now. And free of his perverted attractions!"

I was getting eerily accustomed to every other internal reaction of mine being a horrified "no". Trying to keep my composure, I dug for more information. "W-Where is he now?"

She clearly interpreted my concern as fear. "He's resting safely! Don't worry about him. You don't need to hold onto these ego attachments—focus on divine love, my dear!"

Nearly gagging at that, I instead ignored her garbage theology and eyed the food. If the guys and Alexa were near, like Rowen had said, I'd need my strength…especially while recovering. Reaching out to pick up the cereal bowl, I inquired, "So…what time is it? You didn't exactly give me a clock in here."

"Time to get ready!" she said, clapping her hands together. "I thought I would get you food early in case you ate as slowly as Alexa."

That merited a glare, not only for the disrespectful comment. 'Alexa did tell her I go to a military school, right? Where we had ten minutes to eat?'

I almost choked on my first spoonful of food at another thought. 'Wait… Ready for what?'

I voiced as much.

She blinked, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world and I was a fool for asking. "Your wedding, of course!"

My blood froze cold. "W-What?"

And here I thought I'd have at least one day to figure something out!

She continued as if I hadn't just had my worst nightmare confirmed. "We wanted to give you plenty of time to plan the wedding and we can have a larger celebration later, of course, but after Michael told me how much those men had corrupted you we couldn't let you stay unprotected for much longer. Especially after the lengths they went to!"

Utterly appalled by her accusations, I blurted, "They haven't corrupted me! The only corruption around here is you people!"

I was actually shocked when she merely tisked at me. "That is your ego talking! You have to learn not to say all your human thoughts. Remember, only the divine is real!"

'…Ohmygod she's serious. And crazy.' Swallowing the desire to call up Dawn—I still hadn't had a chance to figure out how, anyway—I asked, "…So, how long do I have?"

I let her assume I meant "to get ready"; meanwhile, I prayed for an evening wedding to give me as much time to find Rowen and escape as I could. Sadly, that was too much to hope for.

"We'll start the ceremony at dawn." Deborah was so brightly chipper, it was unnerving. "I was hoping we could pray, before!"

Revolted by the mere thought, I lied. Partially so. But also straight through my teeth. "I…do my own praying. Alone, usually."

Though a little crestfallen, she persisted. "I can show you the prayer book—it used to be Alexa's. She marked all her favourites."

"No thanks, I'm good," I reassured her hastily. The last thing I needed was to let her get off on a tangent I had absolutely negative one hundred percent interest in hearing. At the first hint of poor reception to that, I floundered to recover. "There'll be plenty of time, uh, later. After the ceremony, that is."

My nervous smile seemed to be convincing enough, at least. Mollified, Deborah offered, "Do you want any makeup? Or help with your hair?"

"I think I'll manage." Again realizing how antagonistic that might sound, I tacked on, "…Thanks."

This woman was more persistent than Velcro on fleece. "Is there anything you want to change about the dress? I tried to find something in your style."

I took a moment to actually study the damn thing. I couldn't tell a lot from how it hung in the clear garment bag, but the first impression I had of it was "not enough". It seemed to be a very understated piece. That didn't even really matter, though; the fact I hadn't picked it, as well as what it represented, was reason enough to loathe it.

But I couldn't tell her that.

"…Nope. How'd you guess my taste so well?"

"God's direction!"

I internally rolled my eyes.

She rose, daring to lay a hand on my shoulder. "Let me know if you need anything. There are disciples right outside the door!"

Of course there were.

Once Deborah left, I downed the cereal in record time. While I munched away on the apple, I did a hurried recon of my room. On the floor of the closet looked to be art supplies of varying types, sewing materials, and a bin of stuffed animals. The only clothes besides my dress and a pair of strappy, gold, low heels were a couple button-downs, matching skirts, and plain shoes; in the boxes on the top shelf were hair supplies and some bridal accessories.

I snorted. I'd probably be the most dressed down bride in the history of brides.

I deposited all the boxes on the bed and moved to the nightstand and vanity. Both turned up no more than some stationery materials and brand new make-up, unfortunately.

That was of course ignoring the jewelry box that had been set atop the vanity, containing the matching necklace to the diamond ring which was no doubt currently with Michael. After cooling off halfway through the drive up, my ex had shown the pair to me and explained that his aim in coming to our gathering had been to propose. The thought still made me want to throw up a little in my mouth, and I avoided the box like the plague. I could feel the spells radiating off the thing from across the room, despite the faint youja fire dulling Dawn's senses.

Now, drumming my fingers against my lips, I contemplated my assembled tools. After a good five minutes sifting through it all and parsing every scrap of my scant MacGuyvering knowledge, however, the only conclusion I reached was that maybe I could start a fire and smoke the building out. Provided I didn't die of smoke inhalation, burns, or some deadly toxin first.

Sighing, I hefted the curling iron in one hand. "Could just bash them over the head and make a break for it.'

But then I still had the barrier over my doorway to contend with. And since they could walk through it no problem, there was no real incentive for them to bring it down. Not to mention Rowen was still trapped somewhere in the sprawling complex.

Speaking of barriers—something in the youja energy rippled, like a water strider skittering across a pond's surface. Startled, I glanced around for any indication of what may have caused it. The feeling came back, stronger than before, but quickly dwindled.

After a long drawn-out silence where it did not repeat, I turned back to my work. I frowned thoughfully. 'Maybe I should just...see about getting Dawn to come up.'

By the time someone knocked on my door again, I was ready for a wedding—and maybe a fight.

I did have to admit, though, that I at least liked the dress a little better once I had it properly on. A loose but full-bodied skirt flared from an A-line bodice lightly dusted with rhinestones, all tied together by off-the-shoulder sleeves. I still wouldn't have chosen it for myself; I felt old in it.

A quick peek through the curtains showed the sky had flushed fully pink with sunrise, now.

When I turned my attention back to the entrance, I blinked upon seeing a little blonde girl of no older than eight. My heart sank, realizing she was clearly meant to be the flower girl, adorably clothed in what amounted to a replica of my own dress. She even carried a tiny woven basket in one hand.

'Poor child…'

"The ceremony's about to begin," she told me—bouncing the slightest bit, her voice bubbly with excitement to match.

I managed a laugh, for her, and reached out to take her hand. "Oh, thank you! Can you show me the way? I don't think I'd make it there by myself."

She beamed, pleased with her Very Important Duty.

Inside, I cried for her innocence.

Dawn shuddered as we crossed the invisible protection spell into the hallway. The two cultists on either side of the door repositioned themselves to flank me as we went. I eyed the swords at their hips, wondering if I could make a run for it after snatching one out of its sheath.

Thoughts of possible further retribution against Rowen if I left, however, stayed my hand.

We wound through a couple more long corridors, the tingle of youja fire running down my spine at each arched intersection. A little quake of perceived fear trembled through my body at realizing even if I had managed to carry out my half-baked plan, it probably would have been a futile effort.

Haunting chants followed us the entire way.

We ended up back at the same courtyard in the center of the compound where the brazier burned. Beyond the end of the rainbow-tiled hall began a sea of people to either side of a loosely-delineated aisleway. At the end of that tunnel stood the bronze brazier, now the centerpiece of an altar littered with amethyst crystals. Somewhere in the space, some kind of choir was singing. Deborah, Michael—

And Rowen.

They'd dragged Rowen out for this sham of a ceremony, held in place by two guards at the head of the aisle and off to the side.

I frowned the slightest bit, distracted. That ripple in the air from earlier was back; the youja's fire didn't feel so overwhelmingly suffocating. Dawn could actually reach out across the space and brush up against Strata. She flinched back at the storm of Spirits whirling around the other armor, however.

"Do not fear, Akatsuki. Our rescue is imminent."

…That wasn't Rowen. That felt like—

"Dais? Are you…?"

"Kure and the others found him in the early hours of the morning. He is safe with the Ronin. I took his place to avoid retribution against you."

Relief hit me like a gut-punch. Nearly staggering from the force of it, I replied, "Oh thank God." Steadying again, I watched the flower girl start to walk as I asked, "What's the plan?"

His armor drew mine toward the shadows behind the huge fire. "Kure is currently dismantling the central flame, and is minutes away from doing so. Once it has been extinguished, we leave."

"So basically buy her time," I summarized. "Got it."

Even at this distance, I could catch the hint of a gleam to his eyes. "We don't need much."

I subtly acknowledged that, as the flower girl finally reached the far end of the aisle before skipping off to join a gaggle of children in the crowd. Michael leaned over to Deborah, presumably whispering something to which she smiled, murmuring a reply.

By the nudge my escorts gave me, that was supposed to be my cue. On principle, I dug in my heels for the space of a heartbeat before reluctantly stepping out. On purpose, I walked as slowly as I could.

Five paces in, another ripple moved through the space.

My mother's eyes widened. She spun on a dime to face the brazier.

In that moment, two things happened.

Dais made his move, and something black flashed by overhead—straight into the blue-green flames.

A deafening crack like thunder rang in my ears. The earth shuddered so hard I stumbled, tripping over my skirts and landing awkwardly on the side of my knees. Youja fire that had provided additional lighting to the area vanished in little puffs of air, throwing the courtyard into a strange half-light of not-quite-day and not-quite-night.

My sister's voice echoed through the chaos that had ensued following the lightning strike. In the split second of panicked searching for wherever she was, my wide eyes landed on Michael.

Michael—running right for me with blade in hand.

Gritting my teeth, I shifted into a better wrestling stance—all there was time for—and lifted my hands defensively to prepare for whatever scuffle followed.

Someone else beat me to it. A huge vaguely armor-shaped silhouette interposed itself between Michael's charge and me. Steel crashed together at the same time as I realized Dawn had once again risen up to protect me.

Before I could call my own sword, my rescuer expertly disarmed Michael with a flick of the wrist. Acidic hissing and then an ear-grating howl of pain cut through the air. An armored hand hooked under my elbow and dragged me to my feet.

"Stay calm," a male voice rumbled in Japanese.

There wasn't time to be anything but calm.

Just as quickly as he'd arrived, we both vanished. That split second disorientation as the world bent into a tie-dye blend of light and sound and color lingered even after I had readjusted to being in an entirely different space. I was too bewildered by it all to quite process the fact I had literally just teleported.

Familiar voices calling my name snapped me out of it. Rowen and Sage in their subarmors trotted out of the trees, relief clear on their features. Seeing the Ronin of Air safe drained the adrenaline from my system into a confused mix of emotions I had no energy to name.

Everything had happened so head-spinningly fast.

Instead I took a few steps to met him, locking my arms around his chest. All the tears I hadn't had a chance to acknowledge stung at my eyes, not helped in the least by his powering down to civvies as he returned the hug in kind. Strata felt drained to its last measure, traces of youja fire skating along the surface; I marvelled he could still be on his feet.

Rowen spoke first, since all my words were a jumbled mess. "I'm so glad you're…" After a moment's struggle with himself, he drew back slightly and swallowed. "Can you forgive me?"

Guilt and heartbreak stared back at me from tired eyes. A lump in my throat made it hard to force the words past, until the first tears spilled over. "Rowen, Michael lied. You didn't shoot me. One of the cultists grabbed your arrow, and he merely let you think you did." I sniffled, mentally cursing my messy tears as I cuffed away the moisture on Dawn's slick gauntlet. "You… Once you brought up Strata, your first… You…"

Unable to put words to what exactly had happened, I simply let him rewatch my memory. As soon as it dawned on him that he had only protected me, he pulled me back into his embrace. I hiccupped on a sob, and the tears came harder despite telling myself it wasn't the time or the place, yet.

But for a moment, I finally felt safe again.

Halo danced anxiously in the connection, Sage keen to look me over. "May I sense what they've done?"

I reluctantly drew back from Rowen, wiping the remaining tears from my face and nodding. He kept a comforting hand on my shoulder as Halo stepped over. When his hand passed across the wound—not even touching it—Sage made a face like he had swallowed a bug, and hissed at whatever he felt.

Before he could explain, we all startled and turned toward the compound at Kento's sharp warning. "The barrier's coming up!"

"Get out of its way," the he-who-I-presumed-to-be-a Warlord said…helpfully.

"We're fine," Ryo reassured him. "We've kept our distance just in case."

The four of us watched in silence as a tiny portion of the air we could see—near the courtyard, probably—shimmered like the outside of a bubble, faintly rippling while its coloration darkened to purple. Blue-green flame licked along its edges shortly after, then died away. Nothing remained…except a faint gleam like glass where the flames had previously been.

She could also feel her fellow armors—Strata, Halo, and the former Warlord beside me; Hardrock, Torrent, and Wildfire roughly two hundred yards toward the opposite end of the campus; and…

I frowned just as Cye began to voice what I was thinking. "Where's—"

Dread lashed through the connection like a cuss word.

We couldn't sense Alexa or the other Warlords anywhere.

"We're going to cover their exit."

"Not without me, you're not," Sage shot back at Ryo.

"I'm coming too!" I said determinedly. Zero experience with my armor be damned—I'd basically figured out the weapon in spite of that. I could work the rest out on the fly.

"No, you're not," all three other Bearers chorused near-simultaneously. Taken aback by the vehemence of their reaction, my jaw dropped open in disbelief. While I tried to find my voice again, Sage exchanged glances with the other two that said more than I heard; a second later, he spun on a heel and sprinted for the school.

Rowen seemed about to follow, until the Warlord stepped forward and stretched an arm out to block his path. "The both of you need to rest."

The Ronin shot him a half-glare that only proved the other's point, for its lack of intensity. "You mashou may have worked generally alone, but that doesn't change the fact we operate as a team."

A bit unnerved by the hint of venom in his voice, I laid a hand on Rowen's arm. "Maybe let's…not antagonize the nice man who just helped us, shall we?" I encouraged in a loud stage whisper.

He glanced down at me, hard edge in his eyes immediately softening.

Motion from the Warlord caught our attention, as he removed his helm. A shock of bright green hair spilled out, and I would have been lying if I'd said his gaze didn't unnerve me a little bit. "Apologies. We haven't been properly introduced, yet. I am Sekhmet, or Naotaka, bearer of Aki."

"Former Warlord of Venom," Rowen said simply.

"Michael would likely take issue with 'former'."

He shot yet another glare at Sekhmet, this one more narrow-eyed than the first. Autumn raised a placating hand to him. "Relax, Ronin. It was not a lethal poison, and will do nothing but leave scars. I was certain to avoid his eyes, this time."

Warring emotions passed semi-transparently across Rowen's face, even leaking around Strata's usually careful shielding. I wasn't paying enough attention to really catch them all, however.

Sekhmet's explanation seemed to make sense to Rowen, but I clearly wasn't in on the reference—nor what it had to do with Michael. "…Wait. What?"

Something grimly dark overshadowed Sekhmet's countenance, giving him a look that wasn't quite a smirk due to the lack of smugness to it. "My blades may be coated in venom, if I so choose. However, in this instance, it will do nothing more to him than leave burns."

"Sekhmet is the one who blinded Ryo, causing Sage to learn he could heal," Rowen offered by way of explanation. "He nearly killed him and Cye, too, when Ryo went to wake him."

"Which mashou hasn't nearly killed one of you?"

It was amazing how much Alexa's snark had rubbed off on me—especially when I was exhausted.

Rowen seemed to not quite know what to do with that, for a moment. Once he'd shaken it off, he continued, "Sekhmet was…you could say one of the cruelest. Of anyone to show mercy…"

Sekhmet cleared his throat, drawing us out of the distraction of telepathy. "In the years since the War, I have discovered I can also produce powerful antidotes. Reviving Tenku from his unconsciousness was the result of one such."

Revi—wait. They had had to revive Rowen? What—

Another sense of utter horror overwhelmed mine through the connection, like the rapport of a cannon over the sound of gunshots. It seemed to come from all the guys at once, but Sage's was the easiest to hear.

"She's trapped!"

It took a second too long to let that sink in. Considering I was starting to realize I was very bad at listening to my armor, that was more correctly like many hundreds of seconds too long.

While we stood there in paralyzed horror, a glow as if from a sparking welding rod rose up from one far corner of the school. In a split second the blue-white hot light burst outward with a peal of thunder not dissimilar to the black lightning that had hit the central brazier.

Whatever that was, though, it hadn't been enough.

The barrier still stood.

"No…no…"

The background chatter of the mental connection came through with unnaturally crystal clarity.

"We need Inferno!"

"Rowen's not strong enough—"

"Like hell I'm not!"

"No, Rowen, stay where you are."

I only registered the fact I was moving when something stopped me—Rowen's arms catching me around the middle. Desperation to go help my sister and Dawn's reserves of strength allowed me an attempt at struggling; but despite his own exhaustion, his subarmored arms wouldn't budge. The pain of my wound didn't help matters either, the air having been knocked out of my lungs and exacerbated by the pressure on my ribcage.

"Let me go!" At no sign of that happening, I whined, "Rooooweeeeen…"

"We just got you out of there," he said firmly. Despite that, there was a subtle quaver to his words; Strata couldn't hide his own torn feelings over wanting to support his brothers, but also respecting their desire for him to avoid more danger. "Your going back in would defeat the whole purpose. Just stay here—please."

A flash of color from Autumn grabbed both our attention. Sekhmet walked up to us now, powered down from full plate to an earth-brown subarmor. His eyes met Rowen's intently. "They will need a scout."

The arms holding me back slackened. A split second later, something about the Warlord's meaning clicked. I found myself having to stand on my own again as the Ronin stepped away. Strata shimmered into life over his subarmor, and he jumped six feet into the air with a motion as casual as walking.

My jaw dropped. "Hey! Why do you get to go but not me?"

He turned in midair to reassure me. "I'll be back s—"

Pain jolted through the connection like a punch to the chest. A second, exponentially stronger zap to my arm followed that had me flinch and flail the limb as if I could physically throw the feeling off. Rowen's weightlessness wavered, feet dropping to inches above the ground.

The sheer look of horror on Rowen's face told me that that pain was a worse thing than I yet realized.

A gust blew past, directing our attention back to where the others were. Fire crackled and roared as loud as the previous thunder, splashing like water against the barrier and bursting upward into a column that towered above the school.

Its surface spiderwebbed under the extreme heat, then shattered.