“It’s not your fault, mama,” Max says, lacing his fingers at the back of his neck. “Like everything else, it was always going to be a long shot.”
I pace the grass behind him. “There has to be another way to track her. Another way to find her. She’s powerful, but not perfect. Right?”
Sliding his hands one over the other, Max makes a noncommittal grunt. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not worth it. Iris Smith deserves some kind of closure, if I turn myself in, I might be able to give it to her. Telling her what happened might be enough.”
“Nope. No. We’re not taking that risk. She put a bounty out on you, so I seriously doubt she’s in a place to listen to reason. Besides, she probably already knows her brother committed suicide. Now she’s out for blood.” I grab Max’s arm again and yank him to his feet. “Come on. Brynn and Hank might have some ideas. They’re gargoyles. This is kind of their entire life purpose.”
“Sure.” Max drags a hand down his face.
Planting myself in front of him, I grip his shoulders. “Hey, look at me.”
He lifts his eyes, gaze dull, that ever-present mask completely gone.
“I know you want to give up,” I say. “But I’m not. I won’t let you take the fall for your mom, and I won’t let you spend the rest of your life running. Unless, of course, you want to run away with me to the Fae realm.”
One corner of Max’s mouth curls up. “I don’t know, I hear it’s a little weird on the other side.”
I pat his cheek. “Don’t make fun of my homeland. Yours is just as strange. Now come on, I’m going to figure this out if it kills me. Then if it does, I’ll just come right on back, then keep working on it.”
Hooking a pointer finger into the collar of his shirt, I pull him a few feet until he gets with the program and falls into step with me. We march back toward the van, my shoulders heavy with the weight of these promises I’ve made, jaw set with the resolve to keep them. Before we make it halfway across the field, however, I pause. A funny shimmer wrinkles the air around Brynn’s car. A shimmer similar to the one Aline Avila just cast over us.
The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Something’s wrong. How are you feeling about water travel?”
Before he can answer, the screech of tires on concrete wails from the parking lot. A group of cars speed toward us off the main road. Most plow straight onto the grass, but others form a wall in front of Brynn’s vehicle. At the sight of a Black Dodge Viper kicking up patches of dirt, my stomach craters to ash.
Yaritza.
Panic explodes through me as she slams to a stop. I back pedal, but not fast enough. As my wings spring out from between my shoulder blades, my mentor bamfs right in front of Max and me. Cold metal slams into one of my temples. Black dots bubble in front of my eyes, inhibiting my ability to see the oncoming attacks, much less block them. As I lose my balance and drop, a boot collides with my stomach, sending me stumbling sideways.
Breath gone, I crash into the soggy grass, rocks crunching against my spine and the back of my head. My wings crumple under my weight. Over the ringing of my ears, I hear the splatter of water, reorienting just in time to watch Max jumping on Yaritza. In one, quick movement, she aims the iron crowbar at him. It slams into his ribs and Max shouts out in pain.
Again, anger ignites a fire in my chest.
I attempt to shift fully into phoenix form, but Yaritza turns back to me. In a blur, something sharp pierces my shoulder. One of her knives pins me to the ground. Crying out, I squint through the agony to find Yaritza standing over me. With one hand, she wields a crowbar, while with the other she presses her second knife to Max’s throat.
Black blood dribbles down from the spot where the blade meets his skin. His legs buckle, barely keeping him upright as he sluggishly tries to pull at Yaritza’s arm, and his eyes flutter, unfocused. Iron works fast on his kind, poisoning them at a rapid pace and rendering them almost completely defenseless within mere seconds.
“Break the connection spell, or I’ll kill him.” Spittle sprays past Yaritza’s lips. “I’d rather take him in one piece to Iris Smith, but if I have to claim he died in the process of retrieving him from a traitor, so be it.”
“Yaritza—”
With a glare, she slams the crowbar into one of my knees. Once. Twice. Three times. Bones shatter. Blood scatters through the air. I scream again, covering my head as the blows move up my body, and beg the Fates to send Hank and Brynn. They’re gargoyles. They’re close by. They have to be able to get past that neutralizing spell.
The curve of the crowbar presses into my throat. I gag, unable to move. “I’m not asking,” Yaritza says, ending the sentence with a snarl. “Transfer the connection spell or I will break every bone in your worthless body and then torture this boy in front of you.”
Tears streaming down my face, I try to meet Max’s gaze, but his head drifts heavily sideways, most of his weight now supported by Yaritza. If she hadn’t already injured him, I could just break the spell. He could leave, be free. But now it’s too late.
“Please,” I say, the taste of metal spreading across my tongue. “He’s innocent.”
“No one is innocent.” Yaritza drags her blade another half-inch across his throat and a new stream of blood rolls down his neck to soak his shirt.
“Stop, stop!” A sob
