Black Scars by Steven Alan Montano Read Free Book Online Page B

steam.
    Bolts of lightning leapt past Cross. He tasted an ionic chill. The bolts flashed into the horde of rushing Gorgoloth. The brute's bodies polarized: their black skin turned white as ash, while their hair and eyes burned black.
    The air growled. Cross smelled burning blood. He pulled his spirit back and buried her as deep inside of himself as he possibly could. She resisted. She was caught up in the violent rush, the thrill of power. Cross bent her will. Even when her resistance caused a backlash of pain that rippled through his gut, he held firm.
    Lucan held his hands up to his face. They drew close together, as if magnetic. The electricity danced and found the Gorgoloth, pierced through their chests, held each monster impaled on slivers of violent energy.
    Then, Lucan dropped his hands, and the Gorgoloth exploded.
    Their bodies tore apart almost silently. All that Cross heard was a series of soft thuds, like underwater explosions. The Gorgoloth’s ashen skin became clouds of white dust. Each of them froze for a moment, petrified, before they were blown apart.
    A few seconds later, time caught up with them, and the sound of the explosions rang through the forest. The crack of electric fire roared out in every direction. Cold air blasted against Cross’ skin. He crouched into a ball and held his spirit tight to his soul, fearful she would somehow be torn away.
    No. I’m not losing another.
    He screamed as a storm of undead energy swept over him. Cross breathed in frozen fumes.
     
    He sees a city of ice. He stands beneath it, in ancient rock chambers. The walls are dark stone, a glacial labyrinth filled with poison fumes that crystallize into bitter fog. Black stalactites dangle from the ceiling like predators.
    This place is old. His life energy evaporates like steam.
    Tunnels lead away from the chamber. They snake their way into hidden corners and ancient tombs. They wind their way down to a central hub, a frozen core. The air is so cold there it burns.
    He sees a woman in the ice, frozen, a pale silhouette embedded in ebon glass. He has seen her before, and before this is all over he will see her again.
     
    Cross barely rose his shield in time. He felt his spirit cry out as raw undead matter collided against her. Tendrils of dark magic flayed them both.
    Lucan’s screams sounded through the air, a rising crescendo of pain. It might have been a thousand voices.
    Cross held on. Cold wracked his body as he bowed into blasting waves of dark power, like standing in a flash flood of burning oil.
    Those few moments felt like an eternity. Finally, the blast stopped.
    Cross released his spirit the moment that Lucan’s lightning faded. She collapsed into a scattering cloud. He had to give her a chance to heal. His own body shook with pain. He was soaked with cold sweat and the frozen drool of ghosts.
    One more second spent being pummeled by those energies and he’d have lost his spirit for good, he was sure of it. She wracked his side with a sharp snap of pain. She was angry, and she wanted him to know it.
    Lucan fell to his knees. His head lowered and his eyes closed. He looked barely alive, let alone conscious. His skin was damp with sweat, and he breathed rapidly, almost hyperventilating.
    Black had somehow shielded Kane and Ekko. While visibly shaken, they appeared relatively unharmed, and they gripped each other tightly, like they were lost at sea. Cross saw Dillon and Vos out of the corner of his eye, alive and well and on their way to join them.
    The Gorgoloth, all hundred or more of them, were dead and gone. Where they’d stood was a field of smoking black meat and ash. Grisly steam melted snow from the trees. The scene smelled like a burning slaughterhouse.
    Kane laughed.
    “ Lucan…that was COOL!”
    Black bound Lucan’s wrists behind his back.
    Cross seized the opportunity. He reloaded, walked up to Black, and pressed the barrel of his HK against her temple.
    “ What,” he said. “The hell. Was