Hostile Genus: An Epic Military Sci-Fi Series (Invasive Species Book 2) by Ben Stevens (historical books to read TXT) 📕

were blessedly far too occupied with the threat in the plaza to notice a poncho-clad gringo in the dark, who, by running through the street with urgency, fit into the scene perfectly.

By the time he reached the palace grounds, Jon could distinctly make out only a small fraction of the dozen-plus sunbeam rays that his friends had started with. He knew the tides were turning against Maya.

Shit, he cursed silently. Hang on just a little longer, guys.

With that final hopeful thought, he began to climb the steps that led to the front door of the palace. The plan and the subsequent mess it had unleashed was working exactly the way Maya had hoped; it just wasn’t lasting as long as they had wanted.

Hopefully, it was long enough.

Jon made it to the top of the steps and was pleased to see that the front doors were unguarded. Maya’s plan had worked, so far. The finale ambush had drawn all the guards away from the palace, clearing the way for him. He tried not to look like he was out of place as he stood there, glancing around.

I’m overthinking it. Just do it.

He stopped only long enough to look back toward the city center. He could see the plaza in the distance; there was a straight road that stretched from the edge of the palace grounds to the city center. He could see the stage and Maya upon it. She seemed to be surrounded by a globe of glowing light, and Ratt was beside her, but he couldn’t make out Lucy. There was a throng of people in front of the stage. It looked like either a mosh pit or a melee battle. Jon knew it was the latter. He could see only two sunbeams left, and they were now stationary, making their rays of death easy to avoid.

I’d better hurry.

Turning toward the palace entrance, he drew his hammer and swallowed.

Okay. It was the first left, a stairway at the end of the hall… Jon concentrated on remembering the order of the directions given to him by Maya when they’d hatched the plan.

Upon hearing Ratt’s tale, the goddess had determined that slaying the vampires and liberating the humans was their only course of action. Once decided, she had related all she could to Jon and Carbine, hoping they were listening. Entering into a semi-hypnotic trance, she’d recalled the entire evening that she had spent with Don Luis Fernando. She’d watched herself in her mind’s eye as she was escorted through the palace by the king after their stroll through the streets. She could pause, rewind, and slow the play-by-play of the night's events. She glossed over the bits regarding his pompous, long-winded, and megalomaniacal speech, only just mentioning them, and instead chose to focus her attention to the details of every turn they’d made, every doorway they’d entered, every step they’d taken on the way down into the depths of the palace’s heart to witness the secret that dwelled within.

Now it was Jon who had to muster his mental acuity and remember every twist and turn of Maya’s dark journey, while simultaneously keeping watch for anyone else who might be keeping watch for him.

Jon intended to find and kill the demon-urchin. He wanted this—no, needed this—more than anything right now, for if it did not die, then Maya surely would. If he screwed up, if he misremembered just one of Maya’s directions, then he could become lost in the palace, sacrificing time that none of them had to spare. He had to focus on what she had said yet remain aware enough not to stumble into hostiles unawares.

Suddenly, after what seemed like seconds, though surely must have been minutes, Jon found himself standing before the black door with the small circular opening in it. He was amazed both at the fact that he had made it to the door without running into any guards and at the fact that despite his attempts to maintain situational awareness, he had been in the same semi-hypnotic trance that Maya had been in when she’d recalled the directions to him, acting nearly on rote alone. Quickly deciding not to question his good fortune, Jon shrugged off the trance with a quick shake of his head and made to reach his hands into the yawning circles of hungry darkness that were the mouths on the door.

Wait a second… Will the door even accept my blood? I can’t play my hand too soon now… What if it’s attuned only to Don Luis?

Knowing that there was no way to know, Jon found himself eyeing the stone of the decorated slab. Could he smash it with his hammer? Would it alert guards? Only one way to know. In this case, brute force seemed the safest bet.

Knock! Knock!

Boom!

Boom!

Jon cocked back for a third blow just as the hairline fractures from the first two began first to appear, then grow, bisecting the dozen mouths and grinning demon face carved into the half-meter-thick stone slab.

BOOM!

The third time proved to be the proverbial charm. As the head of Jon’s hammer bounced off the door, fist-sized bits of it followed, spilling out onto the ground. The fissures now more closely resembled yawning gaps. Jon spun the hammer in his grip and used the war-nail to hook and pry. His skin again began to glow with the power of the serum. He felt his body temperature spike. He grunted with the effort as he placed the bottom of his boot against the door for more leverage. When a torso-sized chunk of slab broke free, he nearly lost his balance and had to hop back twice before he regained his footing.

The wave of decay hit his nose before the dust from the crumbling door had even cleared, carrying along with it a palpable sense of dread and persistent, maddening hunger. Jon felt cold wrap itself around his burning body like an ice bath. Every strand of modified DNA in his body was firing the Morse code SOS