Mark Del Franco - Face Off

He gestured toward the column of essence moving across the Ellipse. “That’s her. She woke up and knocked me on my ass.”

Cress? Laura sent. Static filtered through her mind, but no words.

National Guard unit trucks raced toward them. Soldiers jumped out, moving toward the essence column. Gunfire sounded in the distance ahead, oddly muffled.

Laura rushed across the street. “They’re firing on her.”

Soldiers ringed the edges of the essence column, shooting into it. The shots sparked in bursts of orange that vanished, snuffed like spent candle flames. Laura ran past the soldiers, plunging into the hazy purple essence. Cress’s body signature burned into sight, an incandescent shape moving away from Laura.

Sinclair ran in after her. “Are you crazy? We’re going to get shot.”

“The bullets aren’t penetrating, Jono,” she said. “She’s deflecting them with the excess essence.”

“Where the hell is she going?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Cress spread her arms, as if reaching out for the Monument. The air roared as wind raged around them. The marble facing on the column cascaded down the sides of the Monument, exposing the granite underlayment. The indigo essence contained within the stone burned in a black halo. It spiraled into the air, coiling above Cress like a funnel. With a snake-like strike, it plunged into her chest. A sound came out of her, the screech of metal and fire.

Laura gasped as essence surged into the vacuum left behind. Cress’s body flamed violet in the haze. With sharp gestures, she flung cars out her of her path, tossing them aside like toys. She approached a long black van and stretched her arm forward. A gout of black essence burst from her palm and slammed into the van. It flipped on its side and spun in a cyclone of sparks.

A wing of Danann fairies swarmed the air with renewed strength. Bolts of searing white essence rained down as they soared and dove around Cress. With little effort, she absorbed the strikes, then knocked the Dananns back.

“I have to help her,” Laura said.

Sinclair grabbed her arm. “Do what? Destroy everything in her path? She’s out of control, Laura. You can’t stop this.”

She yanked herself away. “Look around you, Jono. They are going to kill her. DeWinter did this, not her. I can’t let them kill her.”

Sinclair slipped his hand into hers. “She’s fighting everyone who’s trying to stop her, Laura. There’s no fighting this.”

She fought back tears as she followed Cress toward the van. “She saved my life, Jono.”

He tugged at her hand. “She’s broken, Laura. She doesn’t know what’s she’s doing.”

She shook her head. “I have to try. I’m the only one here she can trust.”

“She’ll kill you,” he said.

Something moved within her, a deep moment of recognition. The look of fear in his eyes, the way his voice cracked. He wasn’t playing games, wasn’t trying to break down her defenses for the challenge of it. He cared. Jono Sinclair cared. And in that same moment, she knew that whatever it was he saw in her, it wasn’t someone who would walk away. It wasn’t someone who would give up because she was afraid of dying.

If she let Cress die, whatever chance she had with Sinclair would be gone, no matter what he thought right then. Because she wouldn’t be true to herself. And if she couldn’t be true to herself, she couldn’t be true to anyone. On a level that Sinclair didn’t realize yet, that was what he was attracted to. Who she was, no matter the consequences. And that was who she was.

She kissed him, a kiss of passion and thanks and realization. He held her, his essence glowing, breaking open before her, letting down his guard and showing her the man behind the jokes and frustration and anger. She saw him then, a man in fear. And in love.

She broke the embrace and searched his face one more time. “Please, Jono. I need to do this, or nothing else will ever matter.”

“I . . .” he began.

Laura touched his lips. “No more. Just be here. I’m going to need that.”

He let her slip out of his arms. She ran toward Cress and slammed into a shield barrier unlike any she had ever encountered. Cress stalked around the wrecked van. She swiped clawed fingers through the air. The rear doors ruptured and fell aside. Ropes of jagged violet essence slithered out of her hands and into the dark interior of the van. With a clenching of her first, the essence ropes tightened and whiplashed out, dangling a body in the air.

DeWinter.

She pounded against the barrier. “Stop, Cress!”

DeWinter struggled as Cress reeled him in. When he reached her hands, she made a sound like a roar, wiry tendrils of intense lavender shooting from her mouth. They burrowed into DeWinter’s face. He screamed.

“Don’t do this, Cress!” Laura shouted. She attacked the shield barrier with an intense bolt of yellow essence. The barrier rippled as it absorbed the energy, but it held.

“Cress! Listen to me. It’s Laura. You know me, Cress. Trust me, Cress, like I trusted you.”

Nothing. Cress shook DeWinter, untempered anger and hatred twisting her face.

“I trusted you to let you in, Cress! Let me in now!” Laura remembered the terror of that moment weeks earlier as she lay almost dead, her mind lost, the overwhelming fear as her body essence came under what she thought was an attack. And Cress’s voice in her mind, urging her to listen, to let her in. And she let her in. She had stopped fighting and let Cress in.

Laura paused. She had let Cress in. She hadn’t fought her. Not fighting was what made it work, allowed Cress to reach her and heal her.

DeWinter kicked the air. Blood vessels spiderwebbed across his skin, pulsing with the rhythm of Cress’s essence. She was toying with him, torturing him. His cries cycled higher until the sound was a strangled gurgle. His body convulsed violently, then went limp.

Laura dropped her body shield and touched the essence barrier. Cress’s essence tendrils plunged into her. Gasping, Laura fought the urge to resist, to reject the violation. She forced herself forward as the tendrils wound their way into her essence. It felt wrong. Repulsive. A violation.

Cress. It’s Laura, Cress. You know me. Her words flew off, spinning away into the tangled indigo web of Cress’s body signature. As Cress pulled her in, Laura didn’t resist but moved closer on her own. Her vision spotted with flashes of black and red as nausea welled up within her.

You know me, Cress. Laura. You know me.

The tendrils paused in their wavering, trembling as if deciding their next move. Laura reached out and took Cress by the shoulders and . . .

. . . plunged into a maelstrom, mind-tossed, far-flung, essence-spun . . .

. . . falling, falling, falling, through a purple maze of light across a black pit . . .

. . . burning bright, searing thoughts, tearing . . .

then . . .

. . . wrong it’s wrong I know it’s wrong is it wrong what he wants I know what he wants what I wanted once he is wrong I was wrong it was long ago I am not that what once was but he wants it he calls himself he calls himself dewinter a name of ice and loneliness he knows what he wants he wants to end it all he wants them to leave him alone leave them all alone his name is dewinter I want them to leave me alone I want him to leave me alone I am not what once I was he is wrong I am not that what I was I won’t be that he wants that he makes me want he is wrong it is wrong I will stop this I will stop him I have stopped him I will stop him he is gone . . .

Laura pulled back, not fighting but relaxing, letting Cress’s mind slip past hers. Cress, it’s Laura. It’s Laura, Cress. You must let me in. You must listen.