Free Labyrinth: Acropolis Series Book II by R.K. Ryals Page A

hurtling now
at Bruno, and I know by the time the dirt devil pulls the power
into his vortex what the hybrids have done. They have discovered
how to use the stronger hybrids among them to channel all of their
power into one massive weapon of destruction.
    Bruno's whirlwind absorbs the energy, and I
can see his lips stretch into a smile as he revels in the
intensity. But where there is power, there must also be release,
and we watch as Bruno grimaces before directing his storm toward an
old, thick tree leaning over a rocky incline. The impact is loud,
brutal, and bright, and I am thankful for the muted hearing and
shaded eyes provided by Gray.
    The tree explodes, only to be controlled
suddenly by Fiona who uses her aptitude with vegetation to control
the way the splintered wood flies outward. She draws it in and
shoves it toward the ground. Gravel rains down, and I instinctively
shove it away from the training field, guiding the debris to the
same spot Fiona has deposited hers.
    And then all is quiet. Hearing and eyesight
are restored. Dirt and broken down leaves are brushed off of
clothes.
    "I want to lead," Bruno says when Marcas is
facing him again. His voice is confident.
    "And you think you can?" Marcas asks.
    Bruno gestures wildly."Look at us. Emma
absorbs emotions without even trying. She can control power if she
chooses. It is her strength, but my power LOVES power. It absorbs
power the same way Emma absorbs emotions. It starts from the
bottom. The twins, Fiona, Lyre, Gray, Deidra . . . they raise their
powers, Emma calls on them, and then I absorb it, using it to
destroy anything our individual powers cannot touch."
    Marcas raises a brow. "And you think this
makes you a leader?"
    Surprisingly, it is Emma who answers.
    "No," she says. "His power makes him a
good warrior, but the group trusts him. He makes good choices, and
he has remarkable control. This is what makes him a good leader."
    Marcas turns away from the group, his face
toward the gargoyles, Dayton, and Luther. It is then he smiles. He
knows as well as we do that he has his army. Emma has changed her
destiny, her mother's own prophecy. She won't be the group's
leader, she will be their anchor. She will be the foundation that
keeps them standing.
    Marcas faces them again, his eyes sweeping
over the group carefully. They are all so young, especially Deidra
at only fourteen years of age, but they have spent their lives in
an aimless chokehold of abuse, of abandonment, and denial. Only
Emma has grown up in a happy home, presumably dying and fatherless,
but happy. She is the glue that will hold them together, and she is
strong enough to do it.
    "And Emma's control over emotions?" Marcas
asks.
    Bruno's face falls. "We haven't been able to
help her completely there, but it is better."
    Emma's head is still held high, her eyes on
Marcas.
    "I'll learn. I just need to figure out how to
channel it properly. People shouldn't have to work at constantly
blocking their emotions from me," she says. "Having the drex near
helps."
    Emma's eyes meet mine briefly, and then
shifts away.
    Marcas claps his hands once. "I won't lie and
tell you I don't need you. What you're being asked to do will mean
the difference between life or death for thousands of hybrids.
There are dozens of stories told that define who we are supposed to
be as Demons. To mortals, we are either a myth or an abomination.
It's a mold I'm determined to break."
    "A Demon with principles. Boy, I bet his
mother is proud," Will cracks, and I elbow him in the ribs.
    This is a momentous moment for a race on the
verge of a holocaust. Gargoyles are used to being revered, lifted
up, praised. The hybrids have to fight for it, and even then, it
isn't much of a fight. It is simply a walk through a death-filled
labyrinth to retrieve a spear with the power to give the hybrid
race a small semblance of peace. There will be no grand battle, no
one to cry if any of them die. They will be silent heroes to a
group of outcast