New world order, p.51
New World Order, page 51
part #6 of Crimson Shadow Series
“Oh?” asked Xander.
Zoey giggled. “She just drained all their cars’ batteries.”
Serena began cackling.
Xander nodded slowly, trying to decide why he’d never even thought to try such a thing. “Well then,” he finally said, impressed, “it seems like she has everything under control.”
“So what happens if they get rolling again?” Isaac asked. “If one auric could drain their batteries there’s nothing to say that one of theirs can’t just charge them back up again.”
“They driving newer models?” Zane asked.
Zoey nodded and said, “Of course.”
Zane smirked. “So have the little mind-fuck prodigy go to town on the onboard computer systems. Everything—fucking everything!—on newer cars relies on that shit. If she can fuck with digital and electrical signals from this distance there’s nothing to stop her from basically turning their no-doubt sleek and modern parade of authority into a row of ‘ain’t goin’ nowhere soon’-steel buckets. They’d have to call on the closest clan to give them a lift—I certainly don’t see the fuckers calling triple-A—and, since you guys aren’t on their payroll anymore, that leaves them relying on—what?—a clan that’s at least an hour-or-two out? Assuming that clan’s even got the time and resources to spare them an immediate lift, that’d buy us the time we need to secure the area and brace for what’s coming. It’d certainly give me and you a chance to heal and maybe get laid in the meantime, Stryker.”
Xander considered this for a moment, then let the Great Machine show him the sequence of events that would pass if they tried things that way:
He sees anger. He sees irritation. He sees their aurics reaching back, searching for the one who’s been interfering and—
Xander smiles and nods. “Good for you, Sana,” he caught himself saying aloud; the auras of those around him shifting with curiosity, wondering what he meant.
He sees The Council, desperate and thinking themselves clever for calling upon backup given their growing eagerness to kill Xander, issuing a call to the Daius Clan. Though, true to Zane’s predictions, they’re still several out of range, they have been noticing a decrease in activity—they not only have the time and resources to aid The Council, they’re eager to do so. Not about to make the same mistake twice, the members of The Council warn their Good Samaritans to guard against Sana’s efforts. With the exception of beginning to drop entire buildings in their way, their journey from there will be uninterrupted…
And they’ll be arriving with backup.
Whether or not they have Elder Luis with them—Why can’t I see if you’re there?—there is no chance for a peaceful negotiation. And while the potential for loss is still minimal, limited only to a family of new arrivals if they choose to make the journey tonight, Xander and the others still won’t have to kill any of The Council, but with a small battalion of Daius warriors ready to take on Xander and anybody supporting him the possibility of death increases quite a bit on both sides…
Of the increasingly limited paths that don’t compromise the endgame, Xander sees, only a few of them are ideal. Except for the…
Xander cocked his head in Estella’s direction, but he wasn’t seeing her in the here-and-now. Grinning, he said “Zap-trap,” and gave a nod before taking a step and…
He saw where he was—back in the conference room with Estella, the Vaileans, and Zoey and Isaac—and realized he’d lost track of time…
Literally.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“The fuck was that?” Serena asked, beginning to laugh, “And what the fuck is ‘zap-trap?’”
“It’s… uh,” Xander blinked, not sure how to answer that.
“It’s a fighting tactic that we’d been working on before… well, before all this happened,” Estella explained, keeping a questioning gaze on Xander.
Xander bit his lip, nodding his thanks for her for explaining it. He realized then that he was absently stroking the ruby of his pendant and he glanced down at it, eager for a reason to not have to look at the others.
“Okaaayyyy…” Serena said, stretching the two syllables into well over five. “So what is it?”
Xander felt Estella’s gaze on him. Then, after a brief silence, she said, “I think you’re going to find out soon enough.”
****
After having been force-fed the stuff by what had felt like the gallons prior to his reawakening, Xander was committed to never drinking synth-blood again. Though he couldn’t come up with a decent comparison to brace the new vampire recruits for the experience—the Vaileans certainly had all sorts of colorful ways of describing the taste, none of them even remotely pleasant—he couldn’t help but feel that the awful experience was more than just a matter of taste. It was, when all was said and done, an all-out assault on all the senses. A vampire that ingested the enchanted, synthetic blood substitute would taste something vile, and, with this, experience a smell to match—something in the league of, but not quite as basic as, trying to ingest cold, clotted skunk’s blood tapped directly from its backside. Drinking such a thing, unsurprisingly, had an almost surreal effect of having one seeing and hearing their own body’s conflict with what it was dealing with: on the one hand being so eager to outright reject something so awful while, at the same time, trying to figure out where it could get more. All of which, of course, made for a terrible sort of ache…
Only not.
Because, heinous as the stuff was, synth-blood worked. Aches, pains, lacerations, breaks—everything!—began to heal the moment the system began to absorb the wonderful fusion of science and magic.
And, best of all, it replaced the need for actual blood entirely!
Provided everything worked out, Xander was hopeful that it would help to lessen the negative stigma surrounding vampires in the eyes of humans. It would cut out the need for living blood, which would, after the murder-happy rogues were weeded out and dealt with, allow for the public outlook to shift. After all, no blood-hunger meant no blood-hungry monsters; one of the most prevailing dividers between mythos and humans would be a thing of the past.
But—gods above and below!—it still tasted awful!
Three thermoses later, Xander was having a hard time deciding which he’d prefer most at that moment: the sweet taste of the real thing or the sweet release of death.
He decided that both of those thoughts were counterproductive to two very different convictions he was working to hold to and promised himself never to think them again…
Until I have to swallow another drop of that stuff! he thought-muttered to himself.
I heard that, Estella chimed in his head. Then, I heard all of that.
Xander cringed and looked back towards her. After wrapping up their second meeting for the night—“Two meetings too much, in my opinion,” as he’d said to Estella on their way out—she’d helped them back to their room, already toting a bag in her free hand. The bag, courtesy of Zeek, had been waiting alongside another like it in the conference room. One for Xander and one for Zane. Both of them, knowing what was in store for them in those bags, opted to suffer through the pain of their injuries until they could retch over the stuff in the privacy of their respective rooms. Admittedly, neither of the two had suffered any real extensive injuries. Enough to prevent them from pursuing Aleks, yes, but nothing compared to the horrific states that Xander had emerged from in past battles. Zane had, prior to Serena and Estella’s arrival at the cemetery and with Xander’s help, reset his shoulder, and, with the joint back in place, the two looked more scuffed and embarrassed than mortally wounded.
All the same, Zeek, knowing that The Council was on their way—and, in his own words, “not taking any chances”—had “prescribed” them what they both agreed was a ridiculous amount.
Though he’d never admit it to the anapriek, Xander did feel like he could take on The Council. In fact, he felt like he could take on the entire world. Whether or not he would live through it, however, was an entirely different story.
He caught himself laughing at that thought.
Then he realized that Estella had caught him laughing at that thought, as well.
Fuck… he thought, seeing how angry she looked.
****
“Aren’t you afraid?” Estella demanded.
Though she didn’t like the idea of wanting Xander to be afraid of anything, especially when his strength and confidence seemed to be the only thing keeping everything from unraveling, she worried what it would mean if he’d risen above such a fear.
She would have imagined that, after the last time Aleks had lured him into a trap, he’d know better than to be so reckless. Granted, the trap that had been set this time around had been a truly awful one—one that even Estella had nearly gone rushing into once she’d seen what Aleks was doing—but…
But she would have at least gone into that cemetery afraid.
Xander had just seemed…
She shivered.
Eager. Xander had seemed eager.
“Doesn’t death scare you anymore?” she pressed on.
“Some deaths scare me, I suppose, but…” he sighed and seemed to resolve to a thought that he didn’t like; Estella saw his aura shifting in the same way it had plenty of times when he was upset about how things were going. “There are good deaths, too; deaths that can make a huge difference to how things turn out.” He looked away, almost looking embarrassed. “Death is like love, ‘Stell. And… and for the sake of certain outcomes, I have to be prepared.”
“Prepared? Prepared to die?” Estella shook her head, her voice straining. “Xander, what on earth could justify you sacrificing yourself when…”
The way he was looking at her answered the question before she even had a chance to finish it. “Xander…” she drew in a difficult breath, “Wh-what’s going to happen? Have… have you seen me die?”
Estella felt like she was taking a step into forbidden territory; like she was looking in the single direction no living being was meant to look in.
Was she truly prepared to face the possibility that she might…
But Xander pulled her back; turned her away; refused to even offer her that possibility.
“No,” he said flatly, but there was no relief—no satisfaction—in that answer. “Because I refuse to watch it.”
Estella stared back at him. “Refuse to…?”
Xander gave a single nod. “I’ve watched the others—all the others; even ones I haven’t even met yet—die in hundreds—thousands!—of different ways. I’ve watched my own death, too; probably with more fascination than you’d like, but I’m only admitting that because, with all the things I have to keep from you, I feel you still deserve that truth. But when it’s yours—” his voice caught and he shook his head, “I don’t allow the vision to finish.”
“Vision?” Estella repeated. “You’ve seen thousands of potential deaths for everyone else… but only one for me?”
Xander shuddered, paused, dared a look at her, and then nodded.
“Always the same?”
Another nod. Estella could see tears welling in his blood-red eye.
Strangely enough, she found herself worrying most for him at that moment. “A-and you think that sacrificing yourself will…”
Xander tensed, his eye wavering across her face—watching something that nobody else could see—and finally let out a heavy exhale. It did nothing for his tension this time. “If that’s what it takes,” he finally said. Then he turned his back on her. “And you can’t blame me for that decision, ‘Stell; not this time. You’re more than you now, and I would have died a million times to keep you alive before you were pregnant. Now…” she saw him raise a hand to his face, wiping at it. “I have to be braced for everything—all of the potential rises and all of the potential falls—but, ready as I am for everything else, I can’t face that single reality. In every possible scenario we’ll make mistakes, terrible ones, and, no matter what, we’ll be broken… I can’t do a thing to stop all of what’s coming, and there’s no instruction manual on how to do what I’m trying to do. Stan didn’t go that far, I’m afraid. I’m going to do everything in my power to keep from crossing that path—do everything to divert from it ever happening—but if it should come to pass… then, no, I’m not afraid to die to alter its course. But…” he sighed, seeming to relieve himself of a great deal of stress in doing so and gave Estella a smile, one that took great effort but didn’t seem insincere for it. “But I’ve got you,” he finally said, “I’ve got you, and we have our baby, and…” he nodded, and Estella felt like he was, at that moment, answering a question that only he could hear, “And I believe that will be enough to make it work.”
“But…” Estella suddenly understood how Xander felt, because the possibility of him dying was driving her to consider any possible means to prevent it. “But what if neither of us had to die?”
Xander shivered and, slowly, he turned back to look at her. “‘Stell?” he asked, obviously sensing that she was going somewhere with all of this.
She nodded, frantic. She wanted to believe she was being logical and reasonable, but, as Xander had proven on countless occasions, passion had a cruel way of skewing logic and reason. “The Council knows about Aleks now, right? His intentions, his abilities, and they know all that he’s been gaining followers…” her voice pitched as she felt her sinuses tighten; she struggled to fight the wave of tears. “Isn’t there some path where all of that handles itself? Can’t there be at least one path where we don’t have to fight?”
Xander’s face reflected the rawest image of sympathy Estella had ever seen. “Estella…” his tone hugged her name.
“No!” she protested. “There must be! There has got to be some path where all of this happens without you having to put yourself out there!” Rage, genuine rage—the sort that she’d only ever seen in him—boiled within her; her fists, balled and already aching, shook at her sides. “Haven’t you done enough for the world? The Council’s here now! This is their job! Why can’t they all just fight it without you? Why can’t we just get away—you and me and our baby—and find someplace quiet, someplace safe?” the tears were beginning to fall as Estella asked this.
Xander drew in an uneven breath. “That’s… it’s a possibility, yes. But every path where we run—any reality where we hide, whether it works or not—ensures that Aleks wins. The world—”
“The world doesn’t appreciate you enough to deserve your visions!” she growled, closing the distance between them in an instant and pulling herself into him—claiming him as hers and hers alone. She was hoping she could hide her tears from him but knowing she was trying to hide herself from the truth. “We’re strong enough to protect ourselves if we need to, but… but you shouldn’t have to protect them anymore, Xander; you don’t need this to be your legacy. You… me… this”—she moved one of his hands to her stomach then—“this could be enough, couldn’t it?”
Xander blushed, and Estella couldn’t tell if he was staring at his hand or past it. A part of her liked to believe he could see more, and another part knew that he could. Then he frowned and looked down, saddened. “Could you take any joy in being the wife of the man who let the world fall?” he asked.
“I’d take you in being your wife!” she shot at him, hurt and angered by the question. “Dammit, Xander, look around: that we’ve gotten this far—that we’re still alive—is nothing short of a miracle!”—she heard his voice say “You’re the miracle, ‘Stell” and wasn’t sure if it was a memory or a psychic reminder—“And… and this baby,” she forced herself to go on, “Xander, this is all we need! After everything you’ve been through…” she caressed his cheek, “You don’t owe them anything; any of them. If I knew that you’d finally have a chance to be free of all this pain, I’d turn away from this—all of this—and love you no less for it.”
“Estella…”
She could see Xander struggling with the idea. That was good, she thought; it meant that he was considering it. But she could also see a familiar look of guilt growing on his face. She could see that something was pushing him to take action like he had so many times before.
“What about—”
“About what? The world? Fuck the world, Xander!” she saw him stagger at her words—at the weight of them—and knew that he’d never have expected to hear such a thing from her. “I’ve watched the world hurt you for too long, and I’m frankly tired of doing it any favors! You nearly got yourself killed trying to save the entire mythos community, and now most of them want you dead for it! Why should I want to do them any favors? Let The Council and Aleks have their own war; let them kill each other once and for all! And I’m not sorry for saying that, either; I’m not going to pretend that peace is an option when I’ve had to listen to everyone talking about how much you deserve to die. This world has been taking from you from the start, and you’ve never stopped pushing yourself to the breaking point for them.”
Xander shook his head. “You don’t understand, ‘Stell.”
“No, Xander,” Estella hissed. “You don’t understand! You dropped a bomb on me with that ‘You could die and I’m prepared to sacrifice myself to stop it’-speech, and—guess what?—maybe I’m prepared to sacrifice myself to stop your death! Now what? Are we going to argue in an eternal circle over which of our sanctimonious sacrifices is more justified? Because the world needs you and your powers more than it needs me! And now that I’ve offered a third alternative, one that saves both of us and leaves the rest of the world to fend for itself, you’re acting like that’s not good enough. I’m sorry that I have to add to the already monumental burden that you’re carrying, but you’re going to have to accept in this situation that you have to choose between saving the world and saving me—saving all of us!—and I’ll tell you right now that, if you choose the world, your death is not an option! Now, that’s a big decision to make, and I can’t imagine ever having to make it for myself… but I want it known that, if you feel you owe the world any favors, you haven’t been paying attention. I’m tired of watching you push yourself for the sake of—”
