The faceless assassin could have been playing with us, taunting us with the possibility of life only to send the compactor squishing us flat a second later. But that’s not what happened. With a creak, the compactor lifted off us, standing straight.
It provided me with just enough opportunity to suck in a rattling breath. Then I heard footsteps.
I expected to see the faceless assassin.
I didn’t.
For, as the footsteps neared, they changed. At first, they were light, agile, easy as if they belonged to the feet of someone trained. Then? They became hard, vibrating, powerful. And the closer they came, the more I felt a distinct magic push out from them like a wake from a violent wave. It slammed into me, and I had to clench my teeth against the unimaginable force.
Suddenly, Max bucked to his feet. I hadn’t been expecting it, and his arm pushed the breath from my chest as it slammed hard into my stomach.
“Run, run,” Max commanded.
Again, I had absolutely no idea which Max was speaking. But it didn’t matter.
Max shoved me hard in the back, propelling me between two compactors with enough force to send me skidding several meters away.
I turned over my shoulder, grabbed a hand onto the wall for support, and twisted.
There was no way I was going to leave Max alone.
Those heavy footsteps could only belong to one person.
The Lonely King, right?
I’d called him. Sure, it had technically been to save my life from the compactor, but maybe it had condemned Max.
“Max,” I screamed, voice pitching hard from my throat and shaking through the room.
I heard a great sizzling, crackling sound that could only be one thing – someone calling on all their magic.
A sinking feeling powered hard through my gut as I realized it would be Max. He’d be sacrificing his memories for me.
“Max,” I screamed again.
I moved to push forward and reach him, but that’s when something slammed into my back. It was an unmistakable charge of blue magic – and had to belong to Max. It did not, however, knock me off my feet and fry me to a crisp. Instead, it propelled me forward, sinking hard into the base of my spine and feeling exactly like one of Max’s broad, flat palms pressing against my skin.
I tried to fight against it, tried to turn away, tried with all my might to head back to Max’s side, but there was absolutely nothing I could do to fight against the force of the hand. It had all the power of Max’s strength and magic.
As it crackled against my back, it sent me shooting through the room, heading towards the lift.
I tried to fight against the force of that hand with everything I had, but everything I had just wasn’t enough.
I screamed Max’s name as I reached the lifts.
Though I fought against the urge to reach a hand out and punch the button that would call the elevator, Max’s spell won out.
The crackling pressure pressing into the small of my back shifted around, looped over my arm with a familiar touch, yanked it up, and forced my shaking thumb against the elevator button.
“No, Max, please,” I begged.
There was no way I could fight against the spell, and as that realization struck me, so too did another.
Jim was only several meters away, obviously surprised by the sudden change in the fight.
If I couldn’t fight against this spell, if I couldn’t save Max, then at least I could save Jim. “Move,” I screamed at him, voice rattling, pitching so hard, it felt as if my throat would explode.
Though I still couldn’t control the hand that was shoving my thumb against the elevator button, I managed to control my other arm, and I frantically waved Jim towards me.
He didn’t need to be told twice.
He shoved hard on his foot, keeping one hand behind him, the wrist twisting around and around in a strong circle, a cloud of defensive magic arcing out in his wake.
Just as the elevators pinged open and that charge of magic on my back pushed me forward, Jim reached the elevator and thrust inside.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the doors closed behind me. Max….
But it wasn’t over. Not by a longshot.
Just before the doors could close completely, something shifted, moving in, squeezing itself between the crack in the closing doors like water through a gap in a dam.
The faceless assassin.
I jerked my eyes open, but there was nothing I could do as the faceless assassin shoved forward, collapsed a hand over my throat, and pinned me against the wall.
Jim bucked back in fright but then immediately went on the attack.
He spread his hands wide and sent a strong, charging, crackling burst of magic slamming into the faceless assassin, but it wasn’t enough.
Jim had obviously used up most of his magic. Sweat and blood plastered his brow, dribbled down his cheeks, and splashed over his wide, shaking eyes.
And yet, he didn’t give up. Rounding on the faceless assassin again, this time Jim settled for hand-to-hand combat.
He collapsed his hands into fists and slammed them into the assassin’s back, but nothing – nothing could shift the assassin’s god-awful grip. It only grew tighter and tighter – tighter and tighter – until stars exploded over my vision and a metallic taste welled in my mouth.
I started to black out, but just before the faceless assassin’s grip could become so tight it squeezed my throat into pulp, Max’s magic fought back. It had been waning seconds before, obviously thinking its job was done in getting me to the elevator, but now it surged. It pulsed
