Part 34 (1/2)

Her father stood right behind her, the barrel of his revolver pointed at her head.

For a moment, London thought she might be able to speak with him, reason with him, but the complete and utter lack of emotion in his eyes told her such efforts would be fruitless. She was nothing to him. A body in his way. There was no kins.h.i.+p, no blood between them. Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them back.

”This is for your own good,” he said flatly, c.o.c.king his gun. ”And the good of England.”

Her rifle was empty, but that didn't mean she could not use it. She leapt toward him, using the rifle barrel like a bayonet to jab at his chest. Clearly, he wasn't antic.i.p.ating any sort of counterattack. The daughter he had raised would never think to do such a thing. But she was no longer Joseph Edgeworth's daughter. At the same time, Bennett also sprang toward her father, so that they both collided with him.

The blow was just enough to knock her father's aim slightly. The revolver went off. Her shoulder caught fire. London stumbled to her knees, pressing her hand to her shoulder and seeing red seep between her fingers. An irrational thought flitted through her mind-Athena's s.h.i.+rtwaist was ruined.

Then her father and Bennett rolled on the ground. If London had thought the combat between Bennett and Fraser had been fierce, it looked like puppies playing compared to this brutality. She scarcely believed there was at least a thirty-year difference separating the men. Each fought with an ageless savagery, eyes blazing, naked hatred singeing the air around them. Even when Bennett slammed his fist into her father's ribs, making them audibly crack, her father did not stop his own a.s.sault, ramming his elbow into Bennett's chin. Bennett's head snapped back, but he shook himself into consciousness before continuing his a.s.sault.

But her father possessed an advantage. Two advantages. Bennett had been fighting for some time this day, already taking down several mercenaries and Fraser and and implementing the Eye of the Colossus. He was younger, stronger, but drained. And the Eye, still strapped to his arm, hampered his movements. He didn't have the freedom of motion her father did. implementing the Eye of the Colossus. He was younger, stronger, but drained. And the Eye, still strapped to his arm, hampered his movements. He didn't have the freedom of motion her father did.

London tried to lurch to her feet, desperate to help, but the pain radiated out, numbing her limbs. She watched as the man she loved and her father locked in lethal battle.

Her father, growing even more frenzied, pulled a knife from a hidden sheath. Bennett grunted as the blade slashed at the arm bearing the Eye. It was as if her father meant to cut Bennett's very arm away to get to the Source. Bennett gripped the hand holding the knife, attempting to pry it from her father's fingers. They grappled for the knife, but Bennett couldn't quite stop a gash along his forearm. He bent her father's fingers back until they snapped. The older man howled, then punched at the wound on Bennett's forearm.

”No!” London shouted.

Bennett's fingers loosened just a fraction from the handle on the back of the Eye. It was enough of a window for her father. He leapt to his feet and kicked several times at Bennett's injured arm. When Bennett's hand spasmed involuntarily, her father grabbed the Source and wrenched it off Bennett's arm, then landed a few solid kicks into Bennett's side.

Slipping his own arm through the leather straps and grasping the handle, her father's face gleamed with demonic joy. So delirious with exultation was he, that he didn't notice London crawling toward Bennett.

She kept her weight off her wounded shoulder, cradling her arm against herself, but she had to reach him where he lay on the ground. His face was white as he fiercely fought against pain. London helped prop him up so that he leaned against her, and his expression was murderous when he saw the bloom of blood seeping from her shoulder. No doubt she looked the same way, taking in the bruises, sc.r.a.pes, and gashes that marked him all over, especially his beautiful face and hands. She didn't care if he was scarred forever, but she hated seeing him hurt, in pain.

”Your shoulder,” Bennett growled. He carefully turned her so he could examine her back, and his expression slightly eased. ”The bullet went all the way through. That's good.”

It didn't feel particularly good-in truth, the pain was unlike anything she'd experienced-but she nodded, lips pressed tight.

”Greek Fire,” her father crowed. ”I have it. The Source is mine. It belongs to England now, for the glory of England.” He held the Eye aloft.

”You don't want it, Edgeworth,” Bennett muttered. ”Dangerous.”

”Of course it's dangerous,” her father snapped. ”I saw what it did to my s.h.i.+p, to the demon. That's why it's the perfect weapon. An unstoppable fire.”

Bennett shook his head. ”Dangerous to the bearer. Put it down. Save yourself.”

”Listen to him, Father,” London said.

”Shut up, b.i.t.c.h,” her father barked. ”You cannot call me that anymore. You lost that privilege when you spread your legs for this b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Stupid woman.”

His words were ugly, yet London didn't flinch from them. All she felt was a dull sadness. Her father didn't understand her at all. He never did. And she could not recognize the man she had known her whole life within this gla.s.sy-eyed beast.

Bennett growled and moved as if to lunge at her father, a gesture that made her father laugh.

”Give it up, Day. You failed. And,” her father added, tipping his head to indicate the amphitheater behind him, ”my sorcerer will soon make mince of your pathetic witch.”

Indeed, even as he spoke, the battle between Chernock and Athena raged on. Athena seemed to be weakening, spells uncoiling from her hands at a slower rate. The creatures within the nebula were growing more numerous than the warrior women. If Athena did not rally, and soon, Chernock would overcome her.

”Now I'll truly claim the Source,” her father sneered. He raised the Eye, directing it at London and Bennett. ”Cleanse the earth with fire. Erase all evidence of my mistakes.”

”I'm warning you,” Bennett said. ”Last chance.”

”Enough,” her father roared. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, then gave a yelp of glee when a glow suffused from the surface of the Eye. It grew, widening, a furious burning, spreading outward. From where she knelt, several feet away, London felt the heat sizzling over her skin.

Her father groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as sweat poured down his face. He fought the Eye, grimacing.

”No,” he gasped. ”You're mine mine. Mine to command. You must obey.”

But the harder he pushed against it, the larger the radiance grew. It rippled the air with its heat.

At Bennett's silent order, he and London edged back along the ground, putting distance between themselves and her father. Their hands brushed over something metal, and they both flicked their eyes down. A pistol.

The atmosphere around her father turned incandescent, white. His skin blistered. ”Bend to my will,” he snarled. ”Do as I command you.”

Bennett rose to face her father. Only she saw how Bennett swayed a little, fighting his injuries, and the pallor of his skin.

”Get down,” London hissed, but Bennett's attention was fixed solely on her father. An expression entirely unlike Bennett settled across his face. He smirked, gloating and smug, the picture of a self-satisfied child.

”Looks like you're having a spot of trouble controlling the Source,” Bennett sneered. ”Just like you couldn't control your daughter. She leapt into my bed, practically begged me to ravish her. Did you know that? Just couldn't wait to have a Blade take her and spoil the pride of England. She was wild for it.”

London gaped at him, at the hurtful words he said. Her father's face purpled with rage.

”Shut your f.u.c.king mouth!” her father shouted. The light from the Eye grew, its heat overpowering.

The pistol was heavy in her hands as she pointed it at her father. ”Stop, Father. Put the Source down.”

Seeing her turn a gun on him only enraged her father further. He grimaced as he struggled to control the Eye.

Bennett laughed, a hard, coa.r.s.e sound. ”Must feel b.l.o.o.d.y awful to see your only daughter turn on you like this. Betray you. Betray England. And for what? A tumble. In my my bed.” bed.”

Furious curses, unimaginably filthy and vile words, spewed from her father's mouth. Suddenly, the circle of fiery heat, shrank to a tiny dot. Her father laughed jubilantly. Then his laugh turned to a scream as the light exploded outward.

Bennett threw himself over London, covering her. Her father's screams turned to unearthly shrieks. London lifted her head and gasped in horror.

Her father was on fire. Flames coursed over him, turning his clothing to ash, roasting his flesh. He dropped the Eye, the light receded, but it was too late. The blaze swallowed him as he clawed at himself, burning hair a demonic halo about his head. He screamed, on and on.

Bennett took the pistol from London. He fired a shot directly between her father's eyes. A mercy shot. Her father died instantly.

His body fell like a meteor, tumbling down the hill, bits of charred skin and fabric flying behind him in a cascade of embers. By the time his body reached the floor of the amphitheater, it was nothing but black bone splinters, brittle as charcoal.

Bennett clasped her in his arms, holding her to his solid chest. London covered her face and sobbed. But they were dry sobs. She hadn't anything in her anymore. Was she happy? Relieved? Sad? Everything and nothing.

She raised her head, Bennett's face inches from her own. ”Thank you,” she whispered. ”That was a kindness you did him.”

”It was to spare you, not him.”