Kristie Cook - Genesis

She still held his head in her lap, tears streaming down her face. She’d actually cried for him? She still cared for him, after all he’d done to her? And when she had been right all along.

“You … ” He gasped. How can I feel so much pain? I’m supposed to be invincible. But he could hardly even speak.

She leaned closer to hear him.

“You … were right … little sister,” he whispered. “About Father.”

“Yes, Jordan. I know. And about us.”

“No. Just about you.” He coughed and she pulled back.

“You, too, Jordan. You—”

He had to make her understand just as he did now. “No, not me. You were always the good one. But not me.”

“It’s not too late for you. You can still join us.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or frown at her optimism, at her unconditional love. Love—he realized now there was truth in the word. Father and Mother had loved him. Cassandra still did. Even Eris had felt it for him, he realized now. Perhaps he had even felt it for her. And the pain of not returning it for Inga—of his rejection of her love—had led him to this. The word he’d dismissed as useless actually held the most power of all.

How ironic that he’d been seeking revenge against all who had rejected him, while rejecting those who’d actually accepted him.

He’d been wrong about so many things.

He shook his head in her lap. “It’s too late for me. It is.”

“No, Jordan. I can help you.”

Can’t she see the real me? What I truly am?

He could feel her power growing, the goodness building within her so she could push it into him. His appreciation for her hope disappeared, replaced at first by fear that she would use her goodness on him and then by anger that he actually feared her.

The anger exploded. Hot, boiling in his stomach and chest. Strengthening him again.

He’d been right about one thing. Love deceived those who felt it, weakening them. The real supremacy came to those who didn’t feel it, empowering them with a weapon against the ones who loved them.

He had no such weakness. He wielded the weapon.

“You can’t,” he growled. “My soul is gone, little sister. You can’t save it. I’ve made my choice!”

Releasing his control, evil energy shot out of his body. Cassandra soared back several paces. Jordan sprang to his feet and charged at her. Too fast for her to react, his hands gripped her throat and lifted her in the air.

Cassandra couldn’t breathe. Her throat constricted and her tongue felt as though it’d grown twice its size, choking her.

Jordan, stop! I can help you!

“I DON’T WANT YOUR HELP!” he bellowed out loud and his hands tightened.

Her chest contracted painfully as her lungs fought for air. She thought her eyes would bulge out of their sockets. Lights popped in front of her. The edges of her vision swam.

Please, Jordan.

Her brother only growled in response.

“Cassandra! Here!”

She didn’t know whose voice it was. She didn’t know what came flying at her. But her hand reached out instinctively. Her palm wrapped around the object and she knew immediately what it was. Her hilt. Her dagger. The one Father had given her, specially made by his Angel hands. A grand weapon and possibly the only thing that could kill Jordan. If she could bring herself to use it.

How can I kill him? He’s still my brother!

Tears stung her eyes, from the physical pain at her throat and the emotional pain at the thought of taking a life. Especially her own kin’s. There had to be some other way, but she could think of none, except to let him kill her. Let him have the burden of murdering his sister. As he tightened his hold on her throat, she thought she had no choice but to let him. Her strength was drained. All her energy poured from her being as he choked the life out of her.

She looked for Father and thought she saw him through the shimmering veil. She wondered what it meant that she could see him—that she could see to the Otherworld. Was she dying? Was she already dead? And why wasn’t he fighting? Why was there no demon?

“Your soul is already ours. The demons have no reason to fight me for it. You must fight for your life.”

She had nothing left in her to fight with, though. The grayed edges of her vision pushed inward. Her lungs had already ceased trying to inflate and they collapsed in her chest. It was only a matter of seconds. I’m … sorry, Father. I … can’t.

“Mother, please. Don’t die. We need you!”

Andronika’s plea came from a great distance, as if from another world rather than right behind her. But it was exactly what she needed to hear. Her daughter needed her. Her people needed her. If Father was right, humanity needed her. She couldn’t let evil win.

And Jordan was nothing but evil.

How had she not realized this before? Why did she always deny it? She could feel the evil pouring out of him for years. He’d said it himself.

His soul was gone.

With a sudden and perfect clarity, she realized she’d lost Jordan long ago. Years ago … since before Father left. The figure before her, about to kill her, was not her brother.

It was nothing but a demon.

And her purpose was to kill it.

She gathered every bit of strength she had left in her. She lifted the dagger. And she plunged the blade into Jordan’s side.

His eyes widened at first, but then his mouth twisted up into a wicked grin. “You can’t kill me, you fool. I’m immortal!”

But his grip instantly loosened and they both fell to the ground. Jordan let out a single scream, mixed with pain and disbelief and rage. And then he fell deathly silent.

“There’s only one way to immortality, little brother,” she whispered, “and it is not the way you chose.”

The skin around the silver blade smoked and sizzled, then began to disintegrate into ashes, filling the air with a thick, bitter scent that coated the back of Cassandra’s raw throat. She yanked the dagger from her brother’s body and watched as the rest of his skin dissolved into nothing and then his flesh and bones, until only his clothing remained.

She doubled over and cried. The sobs burned her battered throat and the pain felt right. The physical pain to match her emotional agony. The heartbreak that she and her brother had come to this. That he had gone so far on that other path that he could never return, even when he finally realized he’d taken the wrong road. She’d lost him many years ago, but only now felt the real emptiness.

She felt arms around her—large and small—and heard voices trying to soothe her. Andronika and Niko. They hugged her, stroked her hair back and shared their love with her. Love that strengthened her, that would eventually heal her broken heart and put her back together.

The others joined them outside the crevice, their emotions pumped into a celebratory state. For they had won. They had beaten evil.

Cassandra finally stopped crying and glanced up at them. Her swollen eyes fell on Inga. When Inga had attacked Jordan with her magic, the witch’s jubilant feeling of served revenge had blasted Cassandra. Inga had deceived them all, made all this happen for her own vengeance. Cassandra jumped to her feet and was in Inga’s face in an instant.

“You did this,” she screamed. “You led them to us and brought my daughter into it!”

Inga’s eyes widened as she shook her head violently. Then she dropped her eyes from Cassandra’s and stared at the ground. Her voice came out in a plea. “You know I can’t create a shield. My magick isn’t strong enough. They found us and told us Jordan had already beaten you and if we didn’t go with them, they’d kill us both. I could have flashed away, but I couldn’t leave Andronika with them. Not alone.”