Page 64 of Wrong Squad, Right Mess

Her words were difficult to follow, but the meaning was clear as I noticed the tear through space between them.

Corsa had spoken of another world, the source of these dungeons, but I hadn’t believed him. The sight before me of the three people, purple streaks running over their skin as though alive, told me there was some truth.

It also told me his plan—to hand the men over to them.

No fucking way.

Still, I held back, watching, knowing we’d only have one good chance. There was no reason to risk anything now, not until I had something of a plan.

“Then why is it you struggle with corrupted so much?” Corsa asked, anger in his voice I rarely heard.

“Because you are wrong, just demons who have perverted that which is sacred to us. We can handle beings like this without issue.” She raised her hand, and all four espers dropped to the ground.

Not unconscious, but forced to their knees by an invisible force, something larger and stronger than any of them.

The wave of power was pointed, powerful, but I still felt it. It washed over me, not touching me at all and instead rushing over and past me.

Carter’s eyes sparked, the fury enough that I would have recoiled from it.

“They might use the powers that are stolen from us, but they aren’t a part of them. They aren’t connected, bound from birth to the power. It means they may use it, but they will never fully control it as we can.”

She approached the barrier, which fell when her female companion waved her hand over it. The woman bent forward to peer right into Shear’s eyes, no signs of worries about the close contact or risk.

A smile touched her lips. “This one here is the closest I’ve ever seen to one of ours. The power isn’t quite right, but it’s chosen you, bound to you from your creation. Now, whether that makes you a step forward or the largest abomination, that is yet to be seen.”

She studied the others with the same method, bending forward to stare closely at them, but she didn’t appear nearly as impressed with them. When she reached Carter, she paused.

I doubted it was the promise of retribution in his eyes that caused her reaction. “This one is nearly corrupted already, dancing across that line. Aren’t you afraid that you’ll topple off? That you will end up so deep in madness that you can’t find your way out? Perhaps watching that happen will allow us to study the path the disease takes, help us to better understand the course. If we could, we could perhaps stop the damage it does in our own world.”

“Yeah, hate to tell you, but we aren’t really great test subjects,” Carter said, his voice almost friendly despite his expression. “We aren’t the type to make much of anything easy.”

She tilted her head, the stance seeming universal. “You have quite the strong core, don’t you? Perhaps that is why you haven’t fully fallen, because you are so stubborn that you simply refuse. I look forward to discovering the truth.” She rose and turned her back on Carter as though he didn’t matter anymore, instead focusing on Corsa. “This is acceptable. What do you want in return?”

“I want a delivery every three months. I will give the list of required items the month previous. Additionally, otherwise, stay out of The Pitt.”

“We have done that since your arrival. Believe me, we have no desire to be in this place whether or not you exist here. It is cursed, just a festering pustule, nothing but evidence of the disease that effects both our worlds and changed everything. In exchange, you also will not step foot through a tear into our territory.”

Corsa nodded. “Of course. I also don’t want to go anywhere near your realm. After this exchange is done, I won’t need to interact with you beyond the deliveries.”

The woman turned to the man beside her, again speaking in a language I didn’t understand.

“This way.” She gestured her fingers, forcing all four espers to their feet. It was clear she didn’t control their minds—only their bodies.

I still had no idea of how to stop this, but I’d run out of time to sit back, to wait, to find an opening. When there wasn’t an opening, a person had to make their own.

I pulled my arm back, the log held tightly in my hand, and aimed for the woman.

Did I feel bad? Maybe a little. I didn’t love the idea of hurting people, especially strangers who I didn’t know. I’d hold that guilt if it meant protecting the men I loved, however.

I swung down the log, aiming for the woman’s head, the weight reassuring.

Before it made contact, however, something hauled me backward, forcing my swing to miss its target.

The woman spun, her eyes wide, as though she’d encountered a wild animal.

I probably looked like one right then.

“Easy,” Corsa said, telling me who had stopped me even if I could have easily guessed it. “This is almost done.”