O U T O F T I M E
book 3 in the 'chaos series'
in which lusine returns to earth and is reunited with steve, but not everything is as it was when they said their farewells after the events of the battle of new york. with new companions in tow, ol...
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twenty one 'old habits die hard' -
When the corpse beneath her has taken its final breath, she feels its final illusion slip from beneath her grasp and, in place of the cousin she'd thought she'd been fighting, a stranger emerges, staring up with glassy eyes.
The dagger clatters from her hands.
How could she have gotten it wrong again?
How could she have let herself go?
But she hadn't.
She hadn't lost control.
Lusine had wanted to kill her.
Wanted to feel the life leave her body beneath her bloody grip.
And she'd enjoyed it.
When she finally looks up from the corpse, no one says a word. What could they possibly say? The only souls left in the world who Lusine would murder for, who she had murdered for, simply stand there in stunned silence.
In that moment, she is entirely and utterly alone.
Olea is the first to move, batting Florian away when he protests her moving too much. She walks over and crouches beside her cousin, reaching out and taking Lusine's trembling hands in her own, stilling them.
The chill of her touch is centring against the thrumming heat pulsing through her body calling for more, always wanting more blood to spill. That part of her will likely never cease. Not for as long as the void lives inside. Not for as long as the void regrows with every inch she does.
"I think we had better go home."
"Home," Lusine breathes out, looking down at the body once more. At the mention of home, the void rears. This will never be her home. Not now. The void rejoices in its successful sabotage of the new beginning she foolishly thought she could make. Midgard is no place for a monster. "I think so too."
"Come on," Olea says, bringing her up as she stands. The raw power shudders under the touch of a healer. They begin to exit the training room, but pause by Steve, who is still staring at the body, eyes pinned on the pooling ichor, the glint of the dagger point protruding from its chest. "Captain, I assume you can deal with that?"
"Yes," He replies, only now turning to look at them. When he meets Lusine's stare, he realises her irises are still stained that deathly black. "Lusine—"
"What did you expect?" She snaps, cutting him off. The black retreats, revealing the oceans of blue he'd been swimming in for months. "What did you expect?" She repeats, voice a rasp of the viciousness it had been.
"I thought you were better now. I thought you could control it," He rambles out, speaking before he can think. The smell of blood on her ends any chance of thinking his voice through before he can even take a breath. "I thought—"
"Well, I guess you thought wrong." Lusine shakes her head, standing sturdy when Olea gently tries to move her along. "Once a monster always a monster, I suppose." She clicks her tongue.
When he doesn't respond, she shakes her head and pulls away, stepping out of the training room.
By the time she does, an entire squadron has appeared as if she's going to tear the building to shreds. As if she is the threat to be neutralised.
"Stand down, Agent Volkov," The Director booms out, hiding behind his soldiers.
Lusine raises a brow. "Is that who I am now?" She questions, turning to face him. Power flickers like a flame in her stomach. "Or just when it's convenient?"
Olea appears at her side and takes her arm. She surveys the scene before them and leans up to her cousin's ear to whisper, "If there was ever a time to blink us out of here, now would be it."
Lusine snaps to look at her and does not miss the deadly seriousness in her glare. With a roll of her eyes and a flash of a smile, Lusine theatrically snaps her fingers and is gone before they can even think about firing a bullet into her skull.
-
They appear in their cold, hollow apartment in a flash. The incense Olea had been burning that morning welcomes them with scents of cinnamon and berry, and Lusine sags back into the sofa.
Olea disappears and then reappears a short while later with a bloody rag in one hand, which she swiftly sets alight in the pot she often used to brew her potions and remedies.
They both sit and watch the cloth burn.
"Lusine," She begins, but even her dear sweet cousin is lost on the right words. She wets her lips and tries again. "I wish you would not let yourself get so carried away when a threat emerges."
"She was going to kill you. She tried to kill you." Lusine sits up, the wrongness of what she'd done going over her head.
"But she didn't," Olea says, looking down at her scarred hands. "Florian made sure of that."
Her expression turns sour. "I made sure of that," She corrects, confused as to why her cousin was being ungrateful for the deed she'd commit to save her life.
"No, you unnecessarily killed someone who simply could've been subdued and taken for questioning, like the other two were." Olea sighs, glancing away from the woman who, even after all she'd seen and done, still didn't understand that bloodshed isn't always the answer.
"Not Cathal." Lusine shakes her head. "She would never be held for long."
"But it wasn't her." Even now, she refuses to speak the name of the sister who'd tormented her for years on end, who'd told her she'd never be good enough, who told her she'd die for her weakness.
"The illusion—"
"Even I could see through the illusion, Lusine, and I'm no great illusionist." She wipes her clammy palms down the skirts of her fresh dress. "You saw what you wanted to see. Seeing her made killing easier."
"But—"
"I'm not finished." Olea rounds on her with glossy, green eyes, brimming with fury of the wildfire. "You seem to have this unsatisfiable need to kill and I just can't fathom living like that. You walk through life as if the universe is against you. Like you are constantly at war, fighting for your life. You are not at war, Lusine, this is not Remulan. This is Midgard. Do not ruin this last chance for yourself by slipping into old habits once more. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Is all Lusine manages to say, her voice becoming a squeak in her throat.
"Good." Olea rises. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed so this," she points a finger at the wound on her shoulder, hidden beneath silk, "will heal quicker."
