Sinclair squeezed in next to her to see out. “Yeah, except I’m trained for this.”
She glanced at him, impatient. “Good. You can mop up anything these guys miss. Now, pay attention.”
“We’ve got a go. Make it fast,” the commander shouted.
Laura popped the door. She and Sinclair hit the ground together and helped Whiting. Aircraft filled the sky, fighter jets and helicopters circling in the distance. A wall of helicopters hung in front of the White House. A staccato burst of gunfire flared across the Ellipse in front of the mansion.
Above, the smoke curled away to reveal the deep black underbelly of a Blackhawk. The helicopter veered to one side and turned. Another smoke grenade launched from the Stryker. “Get moving! We have incoming,” the vehicle commander shouted.
They scrambled down the sidewalk, dodging among debris and bodies. A sense of nothingness shimmered over them, a wave in the air with no essence, but they stumbled on. The Monument burned with neon purple light, Cress’s body signature permeating the white stone surface. Near the peak, a rainbow slurry of essence revolved as the giant obelisk sucked it in.
A soldier appeared at the main entrance and waved them in. “We’ve found no one that matches the description of Adam DeWinter,” he said.
Laura surveyed the lobby; chipped masonry and dead bodies were scattered about the floor. “DeWinter’s not here. There’s no way out. He isn’t the suicidal type.”
“Ma’am, I believe what you are looking for is back here,” said the soldier. He led them across the damaged space to the elevators. In a narrow alcove to one side, two long rods of white crystal stretched from one wall to the other. Resting on top, a dark gray lozenge-shaped tube of quartz burned with a deep violet essence.
“Ah, now I see what they wanted those rods for,” Whiting said.
They spread out in a loose arc at the foot of the pod. “What do they do?” Sinclair asked.
Whiting grimaced as he ran his hand over one. “They’re conduits, tapping into the granite of the structure. It’s how Cress is accessing the essence in the Monument stones.”
“Can we disconnect them?” Laura asked.
He leaned over the head of the pod. “They’re not important now. Getting Cress out of here is.”
Outside the main doors, an explosion lit the night sky, followed by the roar of tearing metal. Another explosion erupted, a blinding orange light flashing into the lobby. Laura’s cell phone chirped. She found a text message from Genda signed with a smiley face. “They took out the Blackhawk.”
Whiting stepped over one of the support rods and leaned over the pod. The air throbbed against Laura’s face. Blood pounded in her ears. Until it was missing, she had never noticed how much ambient essence kept her energized. “Why isn’t the pod draining our body signatures?”
Whiting crouched to examine the underside of the pod. “The system is designed to facilitate and amplify Cress’s abilities. It absorbs local essence but needs to be in direct contact with body signatures to absorb those.”
“So we’re safe as long as we don’t touch that thing?” Sinclair asked.
Whiting hummed to himself. “Yes. Unfortunately, we need to touch it to stop it.” He tapped at a strip of red stone embedded on the top of the pod and grimaced. “This is the control ward. It’s not responding. Too much interference from the selenite in the pod itself, I think.”
Laura stepped over one of the support rods. “What are you saying? You can’t stop it?”
Without touching it, Whiting pointed to the red stone. “This ward stone is suppressing Cress’s consciousness. It allows DeWinter to direct her abilities and control his fighters. I keyed a deactivation response to my body signature, but the selenite is draining it off before it can penetrate.”
Sinclair lifted his rifle and brought the butt down hard on the red stone. A piece chipped off. He hit it again. A crack formed. He hit it again. And again, until the impact broke the ward crosswise. Whiting grunted in approval. “That works, too.”
Whiting pulled out the stone fragments. “The locks should release now. Pull up on the clamps on your side there.”
He stooped and yanked at two large stone levers while Laura and Sinclair opened the others. “Now what?” Laura asked.
“The lid’s heavy,” Whiting said. “I used essence to lower it into place, but now that it’s activated, it will drain us the moment we touch the pod. We need to lever it open as quickly as possible.”
“You guys are the brains of the operation. I’ll do it,” said Sinclair. Bracing one foot against the wall, he dug his fingers into the channeled seam that encircled the pod. With a shout, he heaved upward, throwing himself against the opposite wall. The lid pivoted, missing Laura and Whiting by inches. Pale, Sinclair slid to the floor.
Laura rushed to his side, and he smiled up at her. “And before you ask, no, that wasn’t an ability. I’m just freaking strong.”
Laura didn’t answer as she scanned his body signature. His medallion interfered, but as far as she could determine, his contact had been brief enough to cause only a minor dip in his essence levels.
She straightened and froze as she saw inside the pod. Cress lay on her back, unconscious, her body twisted in pain. In the short time she had been missing, every bit of fat had been leeched away beneath her skin. Her head was tilted back, cheekbones prominent, mouth agape as if she were crying out. Her whiteless eyes, though, bulged in their sockets and burned with a dark light.
“Dear Danu . . .” Laura whispered. On impulse, she touched Cress’s cheek. Thick violet tendrils of light slithered out of the leanansidhe’s skin and wrapped around Laura’s hand, sucking at her body essence. With a startled cry, Laura yanked her hand back, rubbing the skin.
The Monument trembled around them, cracks snaking up the walls.
“I don’t think this place is taking the stress,” said Sinclair.
Whiting peered into the pod. “She’s trapped in a fugue state. Until she regains consciousness, the pod will keep draining essence into the Monument.”
“Will it help if we pull her out?” asked Laura.
Whiting scratched at the side of his head. “It should. The warding on the Monument will be disrupted, but I don’t know if that will be enough. We’re actually inside a stone ward now. Cress might not need to be in the pod anymore for the draining to continue. “
Laura clutched Sinclair’s arm as another tremor rocked the building. “Well, let’s drag her out of here.”
Whiting shook his head. “We won’t make the front door with her. Cress herself will keep draining essence until she awakens and stops.”
Laura narrowed her eyes in thought. “Then we’ll relay her out. Whiting, you get her as far as you can into the lobby. Jono will take her from there, and if he can’t make it out the door, I’ll finish the final leg.”
“He’s not fey,” Whiting said. “He won’t last more than a few moments against her.”
Laura made sly eye contact with Sinclair. “He’s full of surprises.”
Another tremor sent masonry falling from the ceiling. “I don’t think we have a choice, folks,” said Sinclair. “Let’s do this and get out of here.”
Whiting activated his body shield and reached into the pod. He pulled Cress by her arms and over the lip of the pod. His shield dimmed as he struggled with her, then faded entirely.
“Faster, Whiting,” Laura said.
She watched his body signature fade next. With a last burst of energy, Whiting wrapped his arm around Cress’s waist and collapsed, using his weight to take her to the floor. Sinclair darted in and dragged him away from Cress. “He’s not dead, but he didn’t last long. I don’t think this is going to work.”
Laura crouched beside Cress. “He was already drained once tonight, Jono. I think we’ll last longer. Hand her off to me before she knocks you out.”
She met his eyes. “Ready?”
“Ready,” he said.