Free Merciless by Robin Parrish

from—”
    “Guardian’s dead,” Ethan interrupted, and then found he had nothing more to add.
    “Then God help us all,” Stevens said quietly. “Those black clouds and the ashen earth beneath them have already spread beyond Turkey’s borders. The U.N. is holding an emergency meeting as we speak, and the president has been on the phone with foreign world leaders for hours. If you know anything more about this man and the threat he poses, now is not the time to play games with me.”
    Ethan took a deep breath and let it out quickly. “His name is Oblivion. And as I told you before, we’ve never built a weapon capable of taking him down. He’ll swat anything you can hurl his way; we’re little more than flies to him.”
    “But what is he ? Where did he come from?”
    Ethan sighed. They were reaching the limits of his knowledge. “As I understand it, and I don’t fully . . . think of Oblivion as a primordial force of nature that has been set loose on our world. He’s ancient—in the extreme—even predating the existence of mankind. Nothing can stop him. Anything that gets in his way will die quick and bloody. He’s going to do whatever he’s here to do, and no amount of human manpower or military armaments has a snowball’s chance of slowing him down. I’m exploring other solutions as we speak, but I must strongly repeat my urging that you not attempt to engage him.”
    A pause. “I was hoping for more.”
    “You wanted to know everything I know about Oblivion. Now you do.”
    “Fine. If you manage to find out anything useful, do try and keep in mind the fact that the security of your native soil—not to mention the world—could very well rest on how much you choose to share with us. I have to go; my flight is about to take off—”
    “Wait, where are you going?”
    “Where do you think? The Turks have asked for help. We’re going to war.”
    Click.
    “No, wait!” Ethan shouted. It was no use; she was gone.
    Had she not heard the part about not trying to engage Oblivion? Was the U.S. government insane? Wheels spun in Ethan’s mind, his knowledge of the inner workings of Washington’s halls of power coming to the forefront. He knew exactly what kinds of battle plans were being drawn up at this very moment, he knew what tactics they would use to try to take Oblivion down, and he had a good idea of how many soldiers they would send to the Middle East, probably pulled from nearby bases and places as far as Germany and Italy . . .
    Oblivion and his makeshift army would be outnumbered by three hundred thousand to one.
    And Oblivion would slaughter every last soul.
    “I know you must be holding on to the hope that Grant can be restored.”
    Payton awoke to the sound of the voice he hated more than any other in this world. His eyes opened and swiveled to the sound of Devlin’s latest accent—a thick Mediterranean sound appropriate to their location. The thing wearing Grant’s skin was allowing him control over his eyes, to better facilitate his need for sleep. But he couldn’t move anything else.
    Devlin knelt over Alex’s prostrate form, less than five feet away. He was applying bandages and ointment to her stomach; a military grade first-aid kit was open at his feet.
    “Hello, Payton,” Devlin said without facing him. “I can feel it when you watch me, you know. There’s no supernatural connection between us. Just the unspoken silence that passes between mentor and protégé.”
    Payton’s eyes turned as far as they could, trying to get a glimpse of Alex’s face. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to see him as well, or not.
    “He didn’t tell you, did he?” Devlin said, still looking at Alex and dressing her wounds. “Yes, it’s true. Payton became a master swordsman under my tutelage. He and I have quite the history.”
    Payton tried with all his might to force his mouth to spit on the old man, but his body refused to obey.
    A silence passed for several moments, and though Payton