The first bite of bacon stimulates my appetite, especially as I realize this could be my last real meal, the protein bars and electrolyte drinks we’re bringing with us not really counting as more than sustenance.
This gathering is obviously different. We don’t joke and banter. Zaid can’t even gather up enough antagonism to level a glare at Boral.
We are all resigned that we have the fight of our lives ahead of us.
“The condo has protections,” Carrick reminds Rainey and Myles, who will be staying well clear of the ritual for their own safety and our peace of minds. “But if you wanted to head out of town, that would be even safer.”
Rainey smiles with a short nod, but Myles says, “I’ve been working on something for you guys.” He bends to the side of his stool, pulling the canvas satchel he always carries onto his lap. From within, he pulls out a small drone. Way smaller than others I’ve seen people use. He sets it gently on the counter to the side of his plate, then smiles proudly down at it.
“Nice,” Maddox says, pushing up off his stool and moving closer to inspect it.
Myles proceeds to explain the drone and some fancy micro camera he has mounted on it. The beauty of it is in how small it is, which means it’s probably whisper quiet.
“It can be flown over the clearing, and the night vision camera can project live stream right to your phones. In the heat of things, you can get play-by-play through comms. I have earpieces—one for Carrick, Maddox, and Titus.”
“Why us?” Maddox asks, moving back to his place at the island to eat.
I take the liberty of answering because it’s common sense. “You and Carrick are our two strongest warriors. Titus is incredibly battle-tested. The most important ones out there. You can take the information and pivot strategies as needed.”
“What she said,” Myles quips as he cuts into his waffle, taking a big bite.
“It’s amazing,” I commend Myles.
“But who will fly it?” Carrick asks pointedly.
“I will.” Myles and Rainey exchange a glance, and it’s clear they’ve talked about this already.
My tone is hesitant, not wanting to offend. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“It will be incredibly dangerous,” Carrick adds. “While I’m assuming you can fly that thing some place away from the action, you’d still be close enough to be in danger. You won’t be able to take on the weakest daemon if you’re discovered.”
“Then I won’t be discovered,” Myles replies confidently.
I look at Rainey. “And you’re good with this?”
Putting on a brave face, she nods. “I am. I think Myles can really help. I’ll just curl up here with some popcorn and watch a movie. When you all come back, we’ll have a big victory party.”
I know Rainey. She’s not cool with this at all, but she is showing support to her husband because she knows this is important to him.
Carrick swivels to look my way. He doesn’t say a word, but he wants to know if I have qualms about this, because if I do, he’ll be the bad guy and shut it down. But even though it terrifies me to have Myles anywhere near this, I realize it’s something he really feels the need to do. He’s part of the team, and has been from the start.
I can’t deny him.
I tip my head slightly, and Carrick understands my assent. He looks the other way toward Myles and praises, “This is really great. You’ll be the best pair of eyes we have on the situation once the fighting starts. From overhead, you’ll be able to keep tabs on Kymaris so we know when to roll in our secret weapon.”
The secret weapon being me.
Except I’m not so secret and not exactly a weapon.
But we have a plan, which is quite simple. We’re going to throw as much power and strength at her as we can, disrupt the ritual, and distract her with our fiercest warriors—Carrick and Maddox leading the crush. Two demi-gods against Kymaris and the Blood Stone should be enough to keep her occupied so I can come in and use the lariat Amell gave us to dampen her strength. Then it’s a matter of getting the Blood Stone. Bonus points if I can kill her with iron, but if she’s immune to it, Carrick is confident we can use the stone to destroy her.
“Easy-peasy,” I say lightheartedly, but we all know it’s going to be anything but easy.
I make one last-ditch effort to appeal to my sister’s sensibilities. Swiveling on my stool, I turn to Zora, who is already on her second croissant.
“You could stay here, too,” I suggest hopefully.
She glances at me, scowls, and goes back to eating. I take that as a “no,” but I’m not surprised. She’s been adamant that she wants to be there with us. She’s hoping there will be some way she can contribute, but I know what she’s really wishing for.