A burst of power rippled through me, shot up my body, and plunged into the assassin’s hand. It crackled along his fingers as if they were dry wood in a forest fire.
The guy shrieked, letting out a gurgling, rattling, pitching cry like the last scream of a dead man. Then he bucked back, finally releasing his strangling grip.
I fell, body simply buckling from underneath me as my back slammed against the wall of the elevator and I slid down it.
Jim rounded on the assassin, planting a sharp, hard kick against the assassin’s side, and felling him like a tree.
But the faceless assassin was not down.
He crunched into a ball, drawing his hands hard against his chest and flattening his palms against the black fabric of his tunic.
A blood-red pulse of magic spread from his touch. He looked as if he’d just split a vein, except a vein filled with electricity. For as that blood-red cloud spread across his chest, it crackled and spat.
Jim tried to jerk back, but he simply didn’t have the time. That magic touched the side of his left leg, and he let out a bellowing shriek.
I watched his leg crumple as if somebody had sliced it with a sword.
He staggered backward, banging against the door of the elevator as blood began to pour down his leg from an unseen wound.
My mind spun as reality struck me like a fist to the face.
We were going to lose.
There was nothing we could do.
No, not nothing – a voice rose unbidden from my mind.
Call on the power.
It alone can save you.
It alone could save me….
I squeezed my eyes shut with the last of the energy I had and begged the fireflies to return.
And they returned. They swamped me, in fact.
And yet, they were not quick enough.
The assassin rounded on me, pushed to his feet, leaned down, pulled me up by the throat, and pinned me against the wall.
Stars exploded through my vision, chasing back the power of the fireflies.
I heard Jim try to move, heard him gasping, scrabbling as he fought to get to his feet. But there was nothing he could do. I started to black out.
And this time, there would be no fighting it.
I had just condemned everyone. I turned from my powers. Max was right – that would cost me everything.
Chapter 8
I didn’t wake. Not fully. I couldn’t. It felt like there was a blanket smothering me, like there was cotton wool crammed down my mouth, like I’d swallowed foam.
I tried to fight it, tried to clutch my face to pull that smothering sensation off, but nothing worked. I could not move.
And yet, slowly, as time passed, I began to differentiate sensations, to feel my way through the pain.
It didn’t take much longer to sense the warm plush carpet beneath me. My mind expected to feel moldered plastic and a cold concrete floor, but that’s not what I got.
Instead, as I fought with all my strength against the vale of pain holding me back, I realized I was in a warm room, sunshine spilling in from the window by my side.
Everything was hazy, foggy like my brain had been pumped full of smoke.
But the sunshine lulled me, gave me something to focus on, a point of reference against my constantly slipping attention.
I followed it, followed it until I finally managed to open my eyes, until finally I managed to resolve the scene before me.
I was right – I was lying face first on soft, plush carpet, and from the little I could see of it, it looked expensive.
Above me was a splendid large window that gave an open view of the blue skies beyond.
Which didn’t make sense. Didn’t make sense at all. When Max and I had gone to that library, it had been evening. Yet now the sun was streaming in, and it had all the glow and warmth of midday.
Midday.
A wave of fear slammed into me. It was powerful enough that it gave me enough control over my hands to clutch them into fists. My fingers and broken, blood-caked nails dragged through the plush carpet as I fought for purchase to push myself up.
“Don’t bother. Save your strength. There is no way out of this room, anyway.” Someone said from behind me.
At first, a thrill of fear shot through me at the unexpected voice, but then I appreciated the tone wasn’t one of anger, just submission.
I fought against my fatigue once more, now planting my hands into the carpet with all the force I could muster.
“Just save your strength,” the voice repeated, this time with a true edge of concern. “Please, you are our only hope to get out of here, seer.”
I ignored the voice, marshaled the last of my strength, and finally pushed past the vale of pain and confusion.
I anchored my arms and rose onto my elbows.
My sight was still bleary, it still felt as if someone had sprayed glue into my eyes, but after a few blinks, I managed to stare around the room.
It was beautiful, comfortable, expensive. It was large with a richly patterned cream and red carpet and red and wood-paneled walls. There were bespoke, expensive antique pieces of furniture littered throughout the room, from colonial chests to Victorian chairs, to a sumptuous, detailed chaise longue. There was also a cage. A dirty, rusty cage that looked as if it had once housed barnyard animals. Inside the cage was the witch from the
