Rolling to my feet, I ran the sleeve of my sweater over my cheek. I turned around, seeing so many blue piles of dust and dead halfs that had been turned. Only one Guard remained in the reception hall—the pure-blooded one. Of all the people to survive, it had to be him. I should feel terrible about that thought, but I didn’t.
Sighing, I slowly approached the Council Guard. He had a fresh bruise blooming across his jaw, but was otherwise unscathed. “That was insane.”
He flipped the dagger in his hand and turned toward the two remaining pures. Dawn huddled behind a statue of Themis, her arm cradled to her chest. Blood dripped onto her white robes. A male pure several decades older than her had his arm around her, whispering something to her. The chick looked freaked out. I couldn’t blame her. She’d been this close to meeting her end.
I wiped my hand under my nose, not surprised to see my blood smeared across my skin.
“Is she okay?” the Guard asked.
The male lifted his head. A deep, angry-looking tag bled from where his shoulder and neck met. “Yeah, I think so. We need to get her checked out.” He looked at me. “You were amazing. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” I murmured, wanting to feel great about winning the fight, but the furie’s words left a jolting echo in my mind. She had given me an additional part of the puzzle, finishing what the oracle had said. But it still made little sense. Who were “the Powers” and how would I become a tool?
The pure had turned back to Dawn. “It’s over,” he soothed her, “all over now.”
It was, but I was still unwilling to put the sickle down—just in case. I kept having visions of horror movie monsters jumping out at me. I moved to the broken doors and peered out. Nothing moved, which I believed to be a good sign. But when would the furies be back? Five seconds from now? A day, a week, or a month?
“Alexandria.”
I wheeled around. “What?”
The Guard pressed his lips into a smile. “You did do really well. I saw you. You may be the first person in history to face down a furie and live. And you took out three of them? That… that was amazing.”
Reluctant warmth cascaded through me. That meant something coming from a pure-blood Council Guard, even if he’d been ordered to kill Hector. A smile spread across my face. “Thanks.”
He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I’m really sorry for this.”
My smile started to fade. “For what?”
“The furies were right. There can’t be two of you. You are a risk.”
A shiver of warning went up my spine. I stepped back, but the Guard’s grip tightened on my shoulder, holding me in place. I looked up with wide eyes and met his. Only one word came out. “Please.”
There wasn’t an ounce of regret or doubt in the Guard’s eyes. “We must protect the future of our race.”
Then he swung his blade at my chest.
CHAPTER 27
HE’S GOING TO KILL ME.
The words flashed through my mind, and I reacted out of instinct. In the back of my mind, I recognized the act of shoving the sickle into his chest was far different than shoving one into a daimon’s or even a furie’s. The blade felt heavier in my hand, the sucking noise the skin made when pierced by the sharpest metal seemed louder.
And the thing that was the most different? Pure-blood Guards didn’t collapse into themselves and fade to nothing but a fine shimmer of blue dust. The Guard kept standing, a horrified look on his face. I think he’d actually believed he could outmaneuver me, that there wasn’t a blade stuck deep into his chest.
I screamed, yanking the sharp end of the sickle out. Then he fell. First to his knees, then face first onto the marble floor. I lifted my head, the bloodied sickle clenched in my shaking hand. I didn’t even know the Guard’s name… and I’d killed him.
The male pure must have risen to his feet at some point. He stared back at me, equally horrified. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“I had to do it,” I pleaded. “He was going to kill me. I had to do it.”
Dawn whimpered from behind the figure of Themis. The statue had been damaged during the battle. The scales had tipped—no longer equal.
So many rules governed the half-bloods. I really couldn’t keep them all straight. But there were two I always remembered: never get involved with a pure-blood, and never kill a pure-blood. Self-defense didn’t matter. A pure’s life was and always would be valued higher than mine. Being an Apollyon didn’t make me above that law. Breaking one rule had seemed bad enough, but both of them?
Well, I was so screwed.
Footsteps thundered into the reception hall, the only sound that seemed greater than the pounding of my heart. Innately, I recognized the two. How had they known where I was? Of course, Seth would know—always know—where I was.
Aiden was the first through the door. Both he and Seth halted a few feet away. I could only imagine what they saw—piles and piles of blue dust, the bodies, the broken doors, and two pures cowering under the statue.
Then they saw me, standing with a bloodied sickle in-hand and a dead Council Guard lying at my feet.
“Alex, are you okay?” Aiden crossed the room. “Alex?”
He stepped around the fallen Guard and stood in front of me. A bruise shadowed under his right eye, and a scratch slashed across his left cheek. His shirt was torn, but the blade hooked to his pants didn’t have blood on it.
“Alex, what happened?” He sounded desperate as his eyes searched mine.