The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

With her next punch at the dirt, he captured her fist.

“Taya!”

Crying out, she threw herself at him, clinging and shaking and breaking the heart she had just welded together. “He buried them, the harpies of old. The ones he and Asclepius killed. The brothers turned my people into phantoms and forced them to go underground.” The more she spoke, the less she heaved and the more fury she broadcast, until malice sizzled in her every word. Heat boiled from her. “They forced the slain harpies to disembody and sink. Ordered them to slowly re-form and wait, silent, becoming one with the earth, tree roots growing through them.”

Had Roc re-created the horror of this in the duplicate realm?

“He hid them from you,” she continued, “so he could raise them up whenever he wished to toy with you.”

“Taya. I’m sorry.”

“He planned this!” she screeched. “They’ve been screaming silently for centuries. They’ve been screaming, but I refused to listen. Well, I’m listening now, and I. Will. Repay.” A bright, blinding beam of light exploded from her.

No, not just a light: incredible power. Her own, mixed with his. The heat of it melted her ring and singed Roc. He didn’t ice over as the mighty force threw him down the street. The light shot through him, too, across, above and below the land; he felt it penetrate the duplicate realm. Not once did his hold on Taliyah loosen.

Taliyah collapsed against him with a gasp. He cradled her to his chest and flashed to their bedroom.

—Commander, all phantom attacks have ceased. They’ve collapsed.—

—The light. What was that?—

Roc had known Taliyah was the daughter of a god and the granddaughter of a higher god, but he hadn’t expected...this.

—The light came from Taliyah. I’ll explain later.—As soon as he healed her and figured out what had happened. —Put the phantoms in cuffs and cells. Do them no harm.—Standard operating procedure, nowadays.

He gently laid his wife upon their bed. Dark lines branched through every inch of visible skin. Black shaded her eye sockets.

Remembering the care and feeding of harpies, he sliced into his wrist and held the wound above her mouth, while forcing her lips to part with his free hand. A crimson stream trickled down her throat. But, as the minutes passed, she didn’t rouse.

Desperate, he leaned down while lifting her head, pressing her lips into his throat. “Feed, Taya. Please.”

Again, nothing happened.

Fighting a stronger deluge of panic, he raced to the other bedroom, shouldering past the door. The daughter sat at the edge of the bed with her legs folded. The mother rose, as well, vibrant color restored to her once-pallid skin. When she spotted him, hatred filled her eyes—eyes so like Taliyah’s.

She sprang to her feet, shielding her daughter and gearing up for attack. Whatever Taliyah’s light had done to the phantoms outside had also helped this phantom greatly, her strength restored with the same intensity as her color.

“There’s no time for that. Taliyah won’t wake. Come. Wake her.” Unwilling to wait, he flashed to Taliyah. No change in her condition.

The sister and the niece rushed after him. Both dived on the bed.

“What did you do to her?” the sister demanded.

He explained as he paced, ending with “Wake her,” he repeated. “Whatever is needed, wake her. I think she burned through her life energy.” His woman, starve to death? Denial roared from him. “She needs my soul, which I’ll gladly give her. Just wake her! Make her feed.”

“You can’t make a phantom feed, you fool.” Blythe frantically tapped Taliyah’s cheeks. “Come on, T-bone. Wake up. Do you hear me? Wake! That’s an order from your more powerful sister.”

A horrifying thought occurred to him as Taliyah’s words echoed in his mind. He planned this. She was right. Erebus had absolutely planned this. But he’d done far worse than Taliyah realized. Erebus hadn’t just stored the phantoms below the earth to use as toys. He’d planned Taliyah’s burnout to save them.

Erebus had known she would find the harpies underground, guided by the Blade of Destiny. He’d wanted Roc to taste the loss he was soon to experience.

What should he do?

What should he do?

“She has a friend,” Blythe blurted out. “An oracle.”

Roc made and tossed the sister a key to Harpina within the same second. “Fetch her.”

“Yes.” The sister caught the three-inch stone and reached for her daughter, who currently sat on Taliyah’s chest, cupping her face.

“Aunt Tal is in there. She’s fighting, and she promises she won’t stop. She won’t accept a picture of defeat. She says you gotta hurry, though. The little light is fading fast.”

Another denial boiled in the core of his being. “Get the oracle. Now.”

“Hi, guys.” The bright, cheery voice came from behind him, and he spun. A beautiful black harpy stood in the doorway. “I prefer the name Great and Mighty Oracle Neeka.” She skipped into the room and handed Roc a piece of paper. “This is a list of her sisters and where they’re located right now. Also her mother. Sorry. If you want T-rex fixed, you’d better gather the girls quick. Chop-chop.”

Roc glanced down at the list before her words pierced his thoughts. Comprehension dawned, and he flashed to the first location with no goodbyes. First up, a woman named Gwen.

Neeka had given him more than names and addresses. Notes with arrows pointing here and there littered the margins, offering warnings. Everything from A bark worse than her bite to Already plotting your murder.

He materialized in a spacious bedroom, standing behind a strawberry blonde throwing a crystal vase at a big, dark-haired man, while shouting, “Yes, I can start a war with gods just because I want to.”

For a split second, he locked gazes with her male, who rocketed from amused frustration to unending rage. No time to explain his actions. He simply grabbed the woman and flashed. Not the best introduction to his new brother, but what else could he do?

Roc dropped Gwen in Harpina and flashed off just as she tore into his throat. Up next, the sister