Praetorian Rising, стр. 86
Vesyon surged forward, his sword raised high, angling toward her face. Instead of meeting his blade with one of her own, the woman pointed a short black cylinder at him, and a line of Chimera charged his direction, their fallen companions no longer their concern.
The woman reached down and lifted Charlie by the neck, bringing them face-to-face. Vesyon couldn't hear what the woman said to her as he fought off the group of Chimera, but after several seconds the woman in red tossed Charlie aside like a rag doll, no longer wanting to touch the girl or waste a second to rip the life out of her chest.
The woman's icy eyes scanned the battleground until they landed on Vesyon. She moved with steady purpose, the Chimera remaining stoic at her sides like harmless puppies. She stopped just out of reach of his sword, holding the black cylinder sparking with sinister intent.
"Where is she, Praetorian?"
Vesyon rose to his full height, only an inch over hers. "Who?" The single word expelled from his chest on a heavy exhalation of air. He wasn't exhausted, but he felt a weariness deep in his bones that made it difficult to breathe.
She snarled, her eyes flitting from icy blue to a deep vivid red. "Don't play with me, Vesyon. You know who we came here for."
He winced as his name flowed from her perfectly painted lips. Who was she—or more appropriately, what was she? The floral scent was overpowering with her closeness, mixed with something feral and purely animalistic. She wasn't an Asperian, though neither was she a Praetorian. He was staring into the eyes of LeMarc's future, and he shuddered at the realization.
"Where. Is. Camille?" she demanded, surging toward him with a hand to his neck. She slammed him into the muck. She wasn't just sturdy; she was a formidable force he had no chance of stopping. She touched the black cylinder to his chest, and he was paralyzed as jolts of electricity raced through his entire body.
"Pathetic," the woman said venomously when she removed the cylinder and Vesyon collapsed into the squish of mud at his back. "It's no wonder the High King exiled you. He needs someone more substantial by his side, and you obviously aren't capable of fulfilling his needs like I am."
White spots rained before his eyes as he blinked through the dizziness. "Night Rave?" Vesyon whispered, his mind barely able to grasp what his Praetorian senses had already confirmed.
"Yes," she replied with a withering red glare before turning on her heel toward the village square, "but more importantly: your replacement."
Vesyon scrambled unsteadily to his feet, but the woman was already gone. He needed to find Camille before she did.
Nearby Charlie was crawling through the mud to her father, mumbling empty words of blind hope as she fumbled through her pocket with manic persistence. Finding what she was searching for, she ripped off the protective seal and jammed the sharpened end of their antidote packs into Phillip's bared chest. It wouldn't stop the transformation, or remove the venom coursing through Phillip's body, but it would give them a few minutes of borrowed time to say their last words of goodbye.
"Let's get him out of here," Vesyon said thickly around the massive lump of fear lodged deep in his throat. Glancing toward the now-crumbling village square, he searched for the woman in red to be sure she was heading toward the center of destruction. They had precious minutes left until the compound would collapse upon itself; it wasn't a time to dally.
He found the Night Rave walking along the outer wall on the east side of the grounds, and managed a small smile knowing the comfort of what she was about to endure. His stomach then suddenly dropped like a lead ball, a fearful groan escaping his throat unlike anything he'd ever heard before.
He watched the spark of red hair duck in and out of the shadows, and then lean over a line of shackled Rogues. Even with her face hidden away from his line of sight, he knew it was her; could see it in the gentle slope of her shoulders and delicate long-fingered hands. Camille had made it out of the compound, he thought with a flood of relief, but this was quickly followed with the hollowed dread of where she was, and what was about to happen.
He raced toward her, boots trampling through the snow and mud without regard of himself or his surroundings. Chimera and Equestrians seemed to melt from his vision as he focused entirely on the spark and sizzle of her hair, the surrounding flames roaring with a warning. He had to get to her, had to pull her away from the structures he knew would crumble and melt like butter beneath her feet.
"Camille!" Vesyon yelled, but there was no way she could hear him—no way he could help her escape the fate that fast approached.
Don't lose her, my sweet girl, she is the only thing I have left in this world. He heard the soft, gentle voice of Jesabelle whisper in his ear as time around him slowed down. His legs felt like lead in his boots, but he kept moving, hoping, begging to any of the gods that would listen to him: please don't let her die. The clangor of swords and boom of cannon melted away, the shouts of battle became a droning hum in the background. His eyes remained glued on Camille's hunched form.
"I won't lose her, my love; I will protect her with every last fiber of my being," Vesyon said, repeating his final promise to Jesabelle like a prayer. He wouldn't let anything happen to Camille, not today. He was already losing Phillip and had lost the love of his life years ago; he wasn't going to let Camille slip out of his grasp—he couldn't.
"No!"