Helpless

Icy daggers of panic clawed at Cay's chest. Without thinking, he flung himself at Amaro.

Only for a soldier to step in his way. "Let me heal him!" Cay yelled wildly. "I'm a medic!"

"Not so fast." Ulrich spoke, coming up behind Cay. "Give me the Star of Miriel."

Furious, Cay flung the Star in Ulrich's direction. He heard it skitter across the deck, but didn't bother looking behind him. Instead, he dove past the soldier the instant the soldier stepped aside and fell heavily on his knees beside Amaro.

Amaro's eyes were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed. Sweat beaded his strong jawline. But Cay didn't focus on anything except the bullet hole in his side, just a few inches below his ribs. If it'd gone any higher, it would have pierced his lungs.

"Oh, please, please." Cay's voice escaped in short, sharp gasps. "Please don't – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

With trembling fingers, he reached into the pouch by his side. It took him several tries to grasp the right vial, and as he fumbled he cursed himself for wasting precious time. As soon as he retrieved it, he yanked out the stopper and bent over Amaro.

With his free hand, he pressed on Amaro's hip to brace himself. Tears stung his eyes and a sob welled in his throat when his fingers dug into hot, sweaty skin. Good. He was still alive.

Cay would have to keep him that way. Clumsily, he poured the contents of the bottle over the wound. The straw-colored liquid trickled down Amaro's side, splashing onto the deck. A waste of precious potion, but Cay was beyond caring.

The instant the potion touched him, Amaro's back arched and a groan burst from his lips. "Fuck that hurts – "

The tears stung harder. Normally Cay would've snapped at Amaro to shut up, but now he only felt grateful the pilot still had the energy to complain. Sucking in a shuddering breath, he pressed his palm atop the drenched wound. A sickening mix of hot blood and cold potion squelched beneath his hand.

Gritting his teeth, Cay drew on his Levia – whatever tendrils of silver light remained after he'd wasted so much in his futile attempt to reach Eulyn. This potion would stem the bleeding, but only worked to its full effect if infused with Levia too.

Even so, it was just a stopgap measure. Only surgery would save Amaro for certain, but Cay doubted he'd get an opportunity anytime soon.

"Please, please, please," he whispered, pressing down harder. He could feel Amaro's ribs expanding and contracting, each breath whistling through his chest. "Oh, please don't, don't, don't, I can't – I can't lose you too – "

'Because of me. Because of my foolish pride.'

When a strong grip closed around his free hand, Cay's eyes flew open. Through the film of tears, he saw Amaro gazing up at him. His mahogany eyes were bleary, but struggling to focus on Cay's face.

Amaro's lips moved. His voice came out so quiet it was barely a brush of air, but Cay heard it all the same. "It's...okay…."

"Shut up," Cay gasped, each word like coughing out a knife. "Shut up, you idiot."

But of course Amaro didn't. "Sorry...didn't mean...to make you cry."

Even now, he couldn't stop trying to get a rise out of Cay. But hearing Amaro's slurred voice, Cay couldn't summon an ounce of anger. All he could feel was the Levia rushing through his veins, flowing into the potion-slick skin beneath his palm.

"You idiot," he hissed. "I'm the one who's sorry."

~*~

As the soldiers marched him through the corridors, Theo wondered if he was still dreaming. His head felt heavy, caught in that groggy state between sleep and waking, and the floor lurched with every stumbling step.

Yet he couldn't ignore the soldier's painful grip around his wrists, twisting into his skin. And as the soldiers pushed him up one final stretch of stairs and onto the deck, the cold night air hit like a slap to the face.

It didn't fully wake him up, but more of his senses rushed back in. Enough to give him a clear view of the horrifying scene on the deck. Soldiers in black leather, wielding katana-like swords. Crew members lined up on their knees. A giant skycraft looming beside the Blue Sky, its blood-red tentacles holding her fast.

And – Theo's heart leaped into his throat – three steel-gray diagrams blazing in the middle of the deck. Inside one of them, a knight in full armor.

"Zenith!" Without thinking, Theo lunged toward him. Only for the soldier to yank him back so roughly he almost dislocated his arms.

"Don't move," the soldier snapped.

Theo kept squirming in his grip, unable to take his eyes off Zenith. When their gazes locked, a jolt surged through his Levia. Zenith lurched forward –

And steel-gray lightning blazed around him. Crying out, he crumpled to the floor. Even as he thrashed in pain, his eyes burned with helpless fury.

The diagram must be a cage, Theo realized. Kress and Avia were trapped in the other two.

If there were diagrams, a wizard must have made them.

There, standing in the very center of the deck. A tall man wearing an eyepatch and an outfit that wouldn't be out of place in a portrait of a nineteenth-century prince. He held a scepter in his right hand, and Theo's stomach did a flip when he saw the blue crystal glowing at its tip.

Wait a minute. Something just as blue, but much larger, shone from the man's other hand. Theo recognized it in a heart-stopping instant.

The Star of Miriel.

Once again he tried to tug out of the soldier's grip, and once again the soldier clamped down tight. Still, Theo didn't stop struggling. He had no idea what was going on, but one thing was clear: he couldn't let this man have the Star.

How had he gotten it in the first place? None of this made sense.

He didn't have time to think about it before the soldier shoved him down. His knees hit the cold hard metal with an impact that made him wince.

Sam knelt to his right, ashen-faced, along with most of the other crew members. A row of soldiers stood in front of them, weapons aimed.

'What the hell is going on here?'

The man with the Star stepped forward. "Is that all of them?"

"I believe so, Master," said the soldier behind Theo.

"Hm." The wizard paced back and forth, swinging his scepter back and forth. "Not the highest quality, though there are a few standouts…wait."

He paused before Ryan, kneeling at the far end of the group. Stroking his chin, the man contemplated the squirming Ryan as if he were a scientific specimen.

"You...aren't a nephilim. Could you be a wizard?"

"Whadda ya think, fuckhead?" Ryan yelled. "I'm Ryan Crowley, and I'm totally gonna – "

"Crowley." The wizard rubbed his chin some more. "Ah, I do believe there was an American family of that name. So one of their descendants managed to make it to Tielos?"

Ryan squirmed harder. "What's it to you? Who the fuck are you anyway?"

"I'm Ulrich Ziegler," the wizard said, his tone almost dismissive. "Head of the Ziegler family."

"Ziegler? Never heard of it!"

"Wait." Meg spoke up, her voice thin. "I've heard that name before. A minor European family whose lineage seemed to have petered out in the nineteenth century…."

"Hm?" Ulrich tilted his head toward Meg. "Another wizard? So many of you in one craft, how fascinating."

Then he laughed, a sharp sound with no trace of humor. "Is that what they say about us on Earth? Well, they're wrong. My ancestors made it to Tielos, and we've only grown our power since."

"Oh yeah?" Ryan spat. "Then how come you haven't joined a Fortress? Two hundred years seems like plenty of time, if you ask me."

Crack. The scepter swung, blue light streaking after it, and Ryan crumpled on his side spitting out blood. Up ahead, Avia tried to fly toward him only to get thrown back by the lightning barrier.

Ulrich strode away from Ryan without a glance back. This time he came to a stop in front of Darian, tilting her chin up with the tip of his boot. She glared back, blue eyes blazing with hatred.

"And you're the captain? An average nephilim?" Again that humorless laugh. "This one too." His gaze flickered to Ryllis on Darian's left. "Completely low-class."

Ryllis snarled, tugging against the two guards holding her back. Ulrich had already moved on from her, casting a bored glance at the three caught in the diagrams. "A pity I had to waste a containment spell on this nephilim, though I suppose her monstrous strength might prove of some use."

"Don't talk about Kress like that, you creep!" Nevy cried.

Ulrich ignored her. "But these…." He swept his hand at Zenith and Avia. "I can't believe it, two homunculi in one craft. To say nothing of this, of course." Smirking, he held up the Star of Miriel. "Truly the fates are smiling upon me."

Theo's heart wrenched. He still had no idea what was going on, but he'd already figured out Ulrich well enough. A wizard just like Oliver, basking in the undeserved power he'd taken from a Star shard.

But this was much, much worse. Because Ulrich had gotten his hands on the actual Star.

Step by step, Ulrich made his way up the line. Finally he stopped in front of Theo. Theo glared up at him, hoping to set him on fire from the force of his hate.

Ulrich's eye landed on Theo, his expression bored. But not for long. All of a sudden, the eye widened, and he drew in a sharp breath.

"You." His voice came out hushed, disbelieving. "It was your Levia."