And time, time slowed down. The fractionof a second – the same fraction of a second it would havetaken himto drag the knife across mythroat – spread out. It spread out before me like a maze, like achess board of choices. So many options, so many directions. Butonly one could save me.
I was not a bad person. But I wasn’t aparticularly good person, was I?
I wasn’t a particularly selflessperson; I wasn’t aparticularly kind person. I didn’t go out of my way to helpothers.
These self-defeating thoughts would be my last.
Or so I thought, because the moment dragged on. Just as I could feel theblade shift across my skin, moving a millimeter to the right, I felt it. Another opportunity tochange.
When I died, when Farley ate my heart, hewould gain my powers for however long. I knew what he would do withthem – knew what devious horrors he would achieve.
Murder, assault, violence.
Other people would die. Because of me.Because I couldn’t save myself.
And that, that was unimaginable.
That was unforgivable.
This was unforgivable!
Even if my power would not return to me –even if I could not see the future – it didn’t matter. I would goout fighting. For I, Chi McLane, would make my ownfuture.
Suddenly, time sped up. It was notaccompanied by a crackle of sparks that told me what to do.
Instead, I decided what to domyself.
I saw an opportunity, felt his gripslacken as he jerked his knife over the thick chain that held mytiger-and-fish pendant.
As he did, I bucked forward. Not back,mind you – forward. I let the knife slice across my cheek, felt asplatter of blood escape onto the soft, dew-covered grass belowme.
In doing so, I broke Farley’s grip.
I swung around, elbowed him in the ribs, andpushed forward.
The move was sudden enough that I brokehis grip, broke his balance too as he stumbled backward.
I pushed into a run. I wasn’t wearing anyshoes, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care about the rough stonesand pine needles and rocks beneath me. Nothing freaking matteredexcept escaping.
But I did not tear towards the dense forestto my left.
Because, I Chi McLane, despite what Max thought, was not anidiot.
I pivoted on my foot, pushed down to myside, and picked up a discarded branch to my left.
I had no illusions that I could fightFarley – not only was he twice my size, but he had his own magicand that of the dead witch.
But I wasn’t going to fight him.
Just as he got up, I swung the branchdown. I didn’t strike the hand that held the knife. I aimed for hisright hand – the one still holding that key.
Behind me, though it was disappearing byevery second, was the faint remains of that lock. I just knew if Igrabbed that key and shoved it into the disappearing image of thelock, I too would be able to open the door. A door that would leadanywhere but here.
I pushed forward with all my strength,with all my goddamn strength, pivoting hard on my hip, drawing thebranch up high. I swung it down.
Farley was obviously expecting me to aimfor the hand that held the knife. So he didn’t protect himself intime. I struck his right arm anddelivered such a devastating blow that he had no option but to dropthe key.
Then I swung the branch into his face as Iplunged down and scooped the key up.
My mother had this theory about the world.The world was always waiting for you to take something from it. Itnever gave you things. Or, at least, the things it gave you werejust free samples. If you wanted the stuff that mattered – ameaningful life, love, goddamn survival – you had to reach out andsnatch it yourself. So you never gave up your anger, your fire,your determination.
And right now, I let mine pulse throughme. It gave me just the courage I needed to clutch the key andshove it to the side.
Though I could hear Farley jumping to hisfeet behind me, though I could hear the knife slicing through theair several inches behind my back, I shoved forward, plunging thatkey into the now de-materializing lock.
For half a pulsing second I thought it wouldn’t work. For halfa pulsing second I thought I’d sacrificed my lastchance.
Then? Then something unlocked. A doorformed in front of me in a blast of sparks. I did not pause, justshifted forward, locked a hand around the handle, and shoved thedoor inwards.
I spilled inside.
I pivoted on my foot, ready to slam thedoor in Farley’s face, but I wasn’t quick enough. He got an armthrough it, the same arm that held the knife. He slashed at me andmanaged to catch the tip of my shoulder as I pushed into the doorwith all my might.
I screamed, bellowed as my blood splashedacross the door. I pounded on the door, trying to shove itclosed. Hekept slashing at me, twistingthe knife wildly through the air as he shrieked and bellowed at me.
I didn’t ask the sparks to return to me. Iwas done begging them to come to my aid. I embraced the firewithin, instead, embraced the kind of destiny you carved out withyour own hands, not the one you waited for to fall into yourlap.
That didn’t matter, for the sparksreturned. In a blaze. They didn’t swarm across my vision in aconfusing mass of color. Instead,they were ordered, patterned, almost as if I could controlthem.
I saw Farley shoving a shoulder againstthe door with all his might, managing to open it.
So I acted. I followed that vision of thefuture, let it control my every action. Just before Farley couldshove into the door, I let go of the handle and jerkedback.
The result was he hit the door with too muchforce and slipped as he clattered into the room.
I still had absolutely no idea where thisdoor had opened to, but as I turned on my foot, I realized I was ina warehouse. The blood-covered, moldered plastic covering the floorwas unmistakable.
Before I could turn my head anddesperately search for Max, Farley got to his
