Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
I reset the spell on the fence so Eoin won’t know I’ve been playing with it. It glows a nice bright red. Likewise, I quickly healed up Lucas and Nick’s wounds and stashed Gae Buidhe back under my sweatshirt. We sit down on the floor looking dirty and miserable, exactly the way they left us.
“So?” Eoin steps up in front of the crate looking, if anything, cleaner and more handsome than before. “Have we developed some foolproof scheme of escape or have you come to your senses?”
“I’ve decided to stand by my answer of shove it,” I say from my spot on the floor.
Eoin’s hands reflexively form fists by his side.
“Charming,” he says. “You are nothing if not consistent. I assume you’ve said goodbye to your friends? Or perhaps not. Perhaps you persist in believing in your ultimate victory. It’s always that way, fighting to the bitter end. But as you see, I and my kind, have always prevailed.” He turns to the two dozen drones who have crowded into the room, their gray, nearly non-existent auras hovering like a sad cloud just below the ceiling.
“Take them,” he orders.
The gate opens and the drones move forward. I send out a burst of energy, wiping out the first row of five or so. They tumble to the ground and Eoin steps back, letting them do the dirty work.
Lucas takes up his role of Watcher and leaps on the next few, without the benefit of weapons. They wrestle and after a few well-placed cracks in the head and punches to the gut, they wrangle his arms behind him, fastening them with some kind of enchanted restraints. He won’t be able to get out of them without my help.
Poor Nick shivers in the corner of the cage, unable to move.
“Get the boy,” Eoin instructs two drones.
They take him without a fight.
Eoin himself steps up and fastens my hands behind my back with the same magical wire ties as Lucas. They make my fingers tingle, but I’m a hundred percent sure I could bust out of them if I wanted to.
“Truth be told, I’m rather glad this is the path you’ve chosen,” Eoin growls into my ear. “You’re quite a thorn in my side and I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer. When I’m done, your power will merely become part of mine. I will absorb it and use it to do very, very terrible things.”
He grins. “Bring them up to my playroom,” he says.
We follow the drones, Lucas and I pretending to struggle, as they bring us back to the elevator and up to the top floor. This time, we don’t head to the white room which, I assume, Eoin is afraid of making messy with all the bloodletting he is planning on.
Instead, we’re led into a wide open space, an adjoining room that has the same million dollar view of the New York City skyline. The decor here is far less pleasant than the other room. A large wooden table sits in the middle of the floor. Plastic sheets are spread out underneath, buckets scattered around. I’m fairly sure that whole set-up is for me.
Even less promising is some contraption that sits over by the wall. It looks like one of those anti-gravity things and plastic sheets also line the floor there. I try not to show any curiosity or fear, but Eoin catches me checking it out.
“Ah, I see you are looking at my toy. No doubt you are wondering how it is used.” He turns to Lucas. “You know how it operates, do you not? Why don’t you explain?”
Lucas smirks. “Why don’t you go to hell?”
A drone jabs him in the stomach, hard, with something I can’t see. Magic pulses powerfully along my arms, itching to let loose. If they hit him like that again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep from destroying them.
“It’s for blood letting,” Nick answers out of nowhere. “I’ve seen pictures of stuff like this used on animals. You slit their throat and the blood flows out, keeps it from contaminating the meat.”
Where the hell did that factoid come from? And why would he bring attention on himself?
Eoin claps his hands together. “Bravo, young man! Exactly. And since you are already familiar with it, why don’t we have you be the first to demonstrate how it works?”
Nick glances my way and in his eyes I see that he has every confidence that I will save the day, that he has nothing to fear. I sure as hell hope I don’t disappoint. I exchange a look with Lucas to see if this is it. He’s still doubled over from the wallop he took to his middle, but he has the presence of mind to be able to send me the unspoken message that I need to hold off. I’m not sure how much more self-control I have left, though. Every cell in my body is amped up, ready to wipe this place off the map.
Scanning the room, I check out the number of drones - too many - and the number of exits. Not enough. With our blood mingled, I hope that sending a message to Nick may work. Run, I warn him without words. When the time comes, run as fast as you can. Do not worry about me. Get back to the restaurant - no, head for the store, explain to Miranda what’s going on and have her tell Nana to hold on. It’s almost over.
When Nick’s eyebrows furrow, I know he has understood: I haven’t had time to tell him about Nana in the midst of all the kidnappings and killings. He’s heard me; he just doesn’t know what I’m talking about. He winks, which is totally inappropriate to our situation, but also totally Nick.
My success with the telepathic message has me wondering if I can’t just contact the shop myself. I mean, technically, my blood is mixed with Nana’s and Miranda’s too, and their instantaneous knowledge of my wrongdoings has always seemed supernatural. Maybe I should give it a shot in case things don’t go the way I plan, like I blow some spell and the roof collapses on all of us, me included.
I picture the shop, the Sunday crowd settled in, Miranda in her tarot corner. She’s not focused on the cards, of course. Her thoughts are with Nana, upstairs in her Sleeping Beauty state. I work to envision it, to make it more than just a memory.
But I can’t. I do see the shop - empty. The espresso machines and lights are off, but there are dishes on the tables and the counter. Miranda would never let the place look like this and she would never close up in the middle of the day. Unless…
My eyes shoot to Lucas. He knows what I’m doing, I can see it. I can also see he wants me to stop, to stay focused, but I can’t. He sends me a warning look. It may mean he is afraid I’m getting distracted from what is going on here. It may mean he is afraid of how I will react to what I see at home. Right now, that second one seems way more important.
Turning myself away so Lucas isn’t in my line of sight, I stare out at the bright skyline. It is a clear winter day and sun glints off the buildings in the distance in bright flashes. I zoom in on one in the distance, a white arc of light hits the mirrored tower and shoots back into my eyes wiping out the room around me.
And then I’m in the shop. Not just looking at it, in it. The “Closed” sign is flipped out toward the street. The door is locked. Half eaten food sits on plates. Steam rises out of coffee mugs. Miranda must have tossed everyone out in a big hurry.
I run to the kitchen. Also empty. No sign of my family or even Hector or Yoriko. A tray of cupcakes sits on the chrome countertop, dishes fill the sink. I reach out and touch one of the cakes with my fingertip. Still hot.
I want to rush out of here, run upstairs, throw open doors. I want to find Nana sitting up in bed talking, telling a story about the strange spell and the crazy place it took her too. I will let Miranda yell at me for leaving the Rippers, for not trusting them to handle things at home and watch as Graham tries to calm her down, winking at me over her shoulder. I want the usual, day-to-day stuff that makes up our lives. More than anything, though, I don’t want to find out that that can never happen again.
My heart hammers in my chest, magic on the verge of spilling over. I twist my hair up into a knot. Not facing it isn’t going to make it not true. Better to find out. To handle it and to destroy the creatures who have done this. Better to take charge and protect the people I have left.
Something tugs at me, something Lucas shaped. He tests our new and improved connection, reaching out to me. There is no time. I don’t know if I think it or if he says it, but I fly to the door and race upstairs, through the living room and down the hall, knowing what I’m about to see, but somehow hoping I’m wrong.
The hushed tones of voices reach me from the square of light on the carpet. Two voices. Miranda and Graham. They talk low and even from here I can make out Graham’s soothing tones. He hushes my aunt, says the things he knows she needs to hear.
I come up short outside the room and look in. Graham faces me, his arms around Miranda who has her face buried against his chest. He runs a hand along her back and talks into her hair. I hesitate, unable to go in. As long as I don’t step in that room, see Nana, or hear the words my aunt has to say, there is still a chance everything is OK. Isn’t there?
Miranda lifts her head suddenly, listening.
“Tristan?” she says into the room.
I step across the threshold.
She turns, her normally tight, perfect bun coming loose, hair trailing down her neck, her back. Miranda’s eyes glitter with tears, but her face is set with rage.
“They did it,” she says. “Those bastards did it.” She frowns and her brows furrow. “You...you’re not here, are you?”
I force down the sob rising from my chest. “New trick,” I say, hoarse. “I hope you’re impressed.”
My aunt stomps toward me. “They did it,” she repeats. Her jaw muscle jumps as she clenches her teeth. “And now you’re going to finish it. Can you do it?”
I look over at my grandmother on the bed, small, still. I’m afraid if I think about this too long, I’ll get stuck in whatever in between world I’m in right now.
“Damn right I can do it,” I growl.
Graham comes up behind Miranda and lays his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll be waiting to say goodbye with you,” he offers. As in, now is not the time to freak out and have the breakdown that is about one thought away.
I look at Miranda. “They have Nick. And Antonio. And a bunch of other people. It’s a full house over there.”
“Are you saying you’re not up to the challenge, niece?” It is a challenge of its own.
I swallow, hard. “I’m saying you should put on a lot of tea. We’re going to have guests.”
Lucas pulls harder and I’m back, standing in the sunlit room. Eoin is in front of me, smirking. “So sorry about your grandmother,” he says, “But you see, we weren’t quite sure you understood the lengths to which we would go to secure your cooperation,” he says. “Surely now that you’ve had your little visit, you do not doubt that we will stop at nothing to obtain what we want. How many people must die, Tristan, before you see the light? Do you really want us to torture your friend here?”
I check out Nick. Two drones secure his arms behind him but it’s not like he has any intention of fighting back. It’s not really his style to start throwing punches. That is what he has me for. And the expression on his face says just that, that he still believes that even after they attach him to the torture device, even after they put a knife to his neck, I will step up and save the day.
I straighten myself out to my fully impressive sixty-four inches and level my most withering look at him. “And do you really think that after what you’ve done, I would ever agree to work with you? You’ve just proven, like I had any doubt, that you are willing to do anything to get what you want. Meaning that one day, when you’re sick of me and you have everything you need, you’ll wipe me out, too. So I’m going to have to say that I would rather have you drain the blood of every person in this room, me included, than share even a fraction of my power with you.”
The corner of Eoin’s mouth quirks upward. “You never cease to disappoint.” He spins on his heel and faces Nick. “And that, young man, is how much your beloved friend cares for you. And you,” he turns toward Lucas who has an entire crowd of drones surrounding him. “She clearly cares for you as much as that last young Seeker did.” He laughs. “Just not one for the ladies, I suppose.”
Lucas ignores him, looking only at me, sending me the message that only I can hear. Be patient.
I lift my eyebrows at him. I’m not actually going to let Nick get hurt - not even a paper cut, never mind slitting his throat.
Of course not. Just don’t show them your hand too soon. We have to catch them off guard.
Eoin is too busy contentedly leading Nick to his toy to pay attention to our unspoken conversation. He undoes the straps himself. It is obviously not the first time he’s used this thing.
“Time to bid your friend adieu,” he tells Nick.
“It’s OK, Tris,” Nick says from where he is. His voice trembles and his whole body shakes, but I still see the confidence in his eyes. “Don’t give them anything.”
“I’m so sorry, Nick,” I say. Not because he’s going to die, but because he’s had to go through any of this to begin with, because I never let him in on what was going on, and because I haven’t told him about Antonio yet. As a friend, I totally suck right now. “But you know I love you,” I add.
“I love you, too. See you on the other side.”
“How touching,” Eoin sneers. He turns to the drones. “Take him.”
Nick puts up as much of a fight as I can expect out of him, thrashing a little, dragging his feet. I get the impression it is all for dramatic effect as he bides his time.
While they focus on getting him under control and strapped into the machine, I snap the restraints around my wrists. The sharp plastic edge cuts into my wrist, giving me an idea. Blood magic. I’ve already used Nick and Lucas’ blood to amplify my own powers. What would happen if I spilled some of my own blood, a controlled amount, and added it to the spell that I’m planning on using to demolish this place. I’m pretty sure I would open up a world of chaos, but maybe that is what we need right now: ridiculous, over the top, mayhem. The kind of thing that will distract the drones and throw Eoin off his game. The kind of magic that can bring down a Ripper’s world.
Lucas’ eyes flash at me. I’m fairly sure there is a suggestion that I not do what I’m planning, but he is my Watcher. He doesn’t get to decide and, frankly, if he doesn’t want to participate, he can do just that, watch. He frowns at me sternly and I want to laugh. Like that’s supposed to stop me? My grandmother is dead. My best friend is next. And if my Watcher thinks he is going to die for me, he is very wrong.
The drones have Nick secured to the table. As they flip it over to turn him upside down, I slit the skin on each wrist with the plastic cuffs, letting them dig in deep. Warm blood trickles down my fingertips and I begin a spell, an offensive spell, something destructive, something I can control. It is the first time I’ve ever tried anything this big, but I have to have faith in myself, in my ancestors, in Nana. I can do this.
A drone opens a small case in front of Eoin, who reaches in and lifts out a long, silver dagger. The blade glints in the sunlight. He raises it, muttering a spell.
“Any final words?” he asks Nick, laying the blade on his neck.
Nick falters. “Tristan?”
“Lucas?” I ask.
He nods at me.
Lifting my hands out from behind my back, I point my finger at the row of windows beside me and drag it in a straight line. They shatter, one-by-one, cracks spidering the surface of each before blowing out of the wall and raining shards of glass on the street below.
Eoin stands, blade in midair, his mouth open. It takes him only a minute to realize what is happening. I know when it registers, because he hurls a ball of black energy towards me. I thrust out a hand and bat it away harmlessly.
The drones, for all their mindlessness, seem confused. They look at one another and at Eoin, waiting for instructions. That leaves time for Lucas to sprint across the room toward Nick. He turns his back to me and I carefully zap his restraints without hurting him. They drop to the floor and he begins undoing the contraption holding Nick in.
I turn my attention back to Eoin who was only thrown for a second. Now he stands, hands above his head, etching sigils in the air and whispering the words of a spell to himself. I suspect it is a big one. In that case, I would prefer he doesn’t get to finish.
“You got him?” I yell to Lucas.
“Done.” He grabs Nick and shoves him toward the door. “Go!” he orders. Nick starts running, shooting me one last look before disappearing.
I turn back to Eoin who is still casting his spell, something I didn’t even know was possible. Again. Not going to happen. Squeezing my fists, I force more blood to flow. Lucas comes up next to me.
“You remember what you have to do, correct?”
Decapitation. I’m feeling a lot less squeamish about it since I met Eoin.
“I do.”
“He’s winding up to something quite big, but remember, your power is stronger - many times over. You may, however, want to take him out before he gets done with…” he gestures at Eoin’s hand movements, “that.”
At some point in Eoin’s spell, the drones, who have been moving around like drunk toddlers, get it together and fall in. They create a wall between us and Eoin, shielding him so he can continue to do whatever terrible things he has in mind unmolested.
Without much effort on my part, I take out the front row as they move in closer to us.
“I will take care of the rest,” Lucas says in a rush. “You need to get to Eoin and do what needs to be done.”
I toss off two drones as they surge forward. “I thought we were supposed to stick together,” I say, kicking them out of the way. “What happened to no ditching you?”
Lucas, who is still without weapons, swings his leg around in some crazy martial arts kick knocking a fairly ginormous pair of drones out of the way.
“It’s not ditching,” he grunts, “if I tell you to go.”
He’s right. I don’t even see Eoin anymore. Who knows how long it will take him to hit the street, jump in a cab, and disappear into the mass of humanity that is New York City? We can’t afford to let him get away and I can’t go back and face Miranda knowing he’s done just that.
But leaving Lucas alone and without sharp objects, as capable as he is, just seems wrong. It’s like letting the first Lucas I met sleep in the Starbucks instead of taking him home.
“This is my responsibility,” he says, cracking a female in the face with his elbow, “this is my fate - to serve you. Let me do my duty.”
“Let me say again,” I zap an approaching drone, “your responsibilities suck. Meet you at the shop?”
“Indeed. And Tristan?” He pauses just a beat, long enough to really look at me, like maybe it’s the last time. “Take care.” Before I can answer, he gets back to business.
Searching the room, I find a door open just a crack, a hidden panel I hadn’t noticed before. It slips closed, folding itself into the wall. A trail of dark energy leads in that direction, so common sense would say that is where I’ll find Eoin.
The space behind the torture room is even blacker than Eoin’s magic. He definitely has the upper hand, knowing where he is going while I don’t. Using my human senses isn’t going to help, so I will have to break out something more supernatural.
I start by pushing aside those senses, ignoring my brain when it tells me to stare into the darkness harder, to strain my hearing trying to catch a sound. I focus on the nothingness, letting my power tell me where to go and what to do.
As I envision the twists and turns stretching out in front of me, I come to understand that somewhere down this maze of hallways there is an exit Eoin is heading to. I close my eyes and picture doorways, windows, stairs to the roof. I send out my magic to shut them all down. No one gets out of this place until I say so.
Satisfied that we’re sealed in tight, I turn my attention to finding Eoin. And then what? I’ve done a lot of things I never imagined doing since that night my aunts showed up, but decapitating someone is a whole new level. Sure, Eoin is a monster but, unlike the drones whose lives are more or less already over, he is a living, breathing monster. Cutting off his head means getting up close, feeling the slice of the blade, and watching his life drain away.
And then I picture Nana, so still and small under her favorite quilts in the supposed safety of her own room. Nana, who tried her best to teach me to be a good person, who used her magic to make people’s lives better, not to destroy them.
Eoin didn’t show my grandmother any mercy. And then there’s Nick. Eoin had every intention of letting him bleed out in that room, followed by Lucas, and then me. So yeah, I don’t have to enjoy it, but killing Eoin is most definitely the right thing to do.
Which means I need to find him and this place is a real pain in the ass to navigate. I run down the hall in front of me, letting my hand skim the wall for guidance. As my fingers slide along the rough stone surface, they pick up more than dust; they pick up the residual energy Eoin is leaving behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs.
Without worrying about stumbling or running into a wall, I continue down the path the dark magic leaves behind. I twist and turn for what seems like an impossibly long time until I find myself faced with another door. I take a deep breath and use my magic to kick it in.
The new room is a large one, unfurnished like the place where we first entered. Grill covered windows allow for filtered light to stream in. Ahead, there is an exposed metal staircase that heads up. Feet echo on the steps and I run forward. But when I try to move, I find myself slowed down. Whatever stunt Eoin pulled at the pool place, he throws my way now. I push hard, but my legs barely cover a few inches at a time. The walls quiver and warp like they are getting further away.
I grunt in frustration. Eoin forgets who he is dealing with. Forcing my arms in front of me, I dig the remnants of the plastic ties into my wrists opening up the cuts again. As the blood begins flowing, I force magic through my hands and out the ends of my fingers, tearing a space in the energy that Eoin has thrown out. The world seems normal through the gap, so I throw my arms wide, ripping the spell apart. It dissipates and dies out.
I take off running again, following Eoin’s magic like a dog who has caught a scent. I clamber up the stairs - one flight, two flights, three - happy for once about all those hours of cross country track practice.
Above me, I catch sight of Eoin as he bursts out of a door and onto the roof. The roof. Of course the roof. Where I risk flying over the side and crashing on the sidewalk below. I shake my head, remembering Lucas’ warning to never let a Ripper get into my mind, never let him make me think I can’t do something. If I start to doubt myself, I will die.
I’m not sure what Eoin’s plan is, but I assume it involves some sort of escape I hadn’t planned on. Maybe he’ll turn into a bat and fly off. For a second, I almost laugh. Up ahead, Eoin ducks behind some enormous piece of machinery that I think is probably the cooling system.
I walk forward more carefully, muttering an offensive spell under my breath and squeezing my fists to make sure the blood keeps flowing. My feet crunch on the gravel surface of the roof, but it’s not like I’m trying to sneak up on him. I surround myself with an arc of powerful blood magic, hoping it will be enough to prevent an attack.
Eoin throws out his arms the minute we’re face to face, shooting everything he has in my direction. It bounces off harmlessly. Eoin’s eyebrows raise in spite of his efforts to hide his feelings.
“It’s interesting,” I say, “but I feel like I get stronger every single second. You know, I’m a pretty crappy student, but this stuff,” I wiggle my fingers at him, “I think this is my jam, you know? I just.” I shove him back without touching him. “Keep.” Shove. “Getting.” Shove. “Better.” Eoin stumbles and falls.
To his credit, he does some kind of impressive ninja roll and springs to his feet, shooting out a bolt of power right at my core. It barely grazes me and I smile.
“Like I said, I get stronger every single second.” A brief flicker of something flashes behind Eoin’s eyes and I could be mistaken but it looks a lot like fear.
“Perhaps we need to step back for a moment, reassess the situation.”
“You killed my grandmother,” I point out, “or did you assume I wouldn’t care about that with all my power madness?”
“Your grandmother’s death was regrettable,” he explains, “but it just serves to make the point that this is incredibly important.”
“This?” I raise an eyebrow.
“You, your ever-developing magic power. Great power comes at a cost, Tristan. You think you can control it - and not the other way round? It is what you think, is it not?”
It is. I don’t answer but the truth has been creeping up on me steadily since the night the aunts visited. I want this. I know I can be powerful without sacrificing others, without becoming evil like Eoin and the others. I will be the strongest on my own terms.
Which begins with ending this.
“And you think,” I answer, “that there is anything you can offer me other than the unspoken understanding that one day, when you’ve taken everything you want from me, you will eliminate me for good? There is nothing you can give me, Eoin, because there is nothing I want that I cannot obtain for myself.”
He shuffles back in tiny steps, the gravel scraping beneath his boots. His moving backward is the sign I have been looking for, the thing that indicates that he is now afraid of me, which means I must now be strong enough to finish him.
The ledge of the roof is only a few feet behind him, but I know that falling won’t do the job. For all I know, he’ll just burst into a cloud of a thousand bats and fly off somewhere to regroup, to wait it out until he can catch us and kill us. I reach under my sweat shirt and pull out Gae Buidhe. Eoin’s eyes go wide.
Turning, he makes a run for the ledge. I guess my instincts about his surviving the fall were good. There is no way I’m letting him off this easy. I extend my arms and pull them back quickly like I’m doing the breaststroke. The force of the magic creates a giant wave that gathers him up and drags him toward me, depositing him at my feet.
It’s time. I push down any apprehension I have about what I’m about to do, any second thoughts that bring up the morality of cutting off a person’s head. This is no person. Besides, if I don’t end this now, once and for ever, none of us will ever be safe again. It’s only a matter of time before Nick and Antonio get dragged off the street again or Graham finds himself upside-down in a bloodletting contraption and Miranda falls into a forever sleep.
I steady myself with a foot in the center of Eoin’s chest. His black magic instantly seeps upward through my boot, my sock, my foot. I absorb it, make it mine. Eoin wants my power to magnify his own, why not do the reverse?
Flipping the knife over in my hand, I grasp the blade and lift it high to give it momentum when I slice. I don’t want to have to try this more than once. My eyes flick quickly to Eoin’s and away again. I may be OK with taking his head, but I don’t think I can do it while looking at him.
He smirks and the dark energy I have taken from him pulses through me as anger, rage. What the hell does he have to smirk about? I swallow it down. I’m doing this because I have to, because, as Lucas says, it will reset the balance of good and evil, not because I want revenge for what he has done to Nana. At least that’s what I’m going to tell myself.
“You think this is going to change anything?” he asks quietly.
“I think it’s going to make you dead.”
“And you believe that is important because I am so powerful.” He laughs. “I am nothing compared to some of the others and certainly not to she who rules us all.”
I waver for a second, lowering the knife.
“Did you actually believe I was the leader of our little troupe? I’m honored. And yet therein lies another little piece of vital information your family has withheld from you.”
I frown down at him. I can’t believe I’m falling for this, a story that he is creating to throw me off, to give him the upper hand and a chance to escape. I shake my head.
“I’m resigned to my fate,” Eoin says. “You will kill me no matter what and yet I will tell you more about who you are and where you come from than anyone around you has dared to do. Tell me, Tristan, what do you know of your mother?”
“My mother is dead,” I say “There’s nothing to know.”
He laughs again. “Is she now?”
The knife hangs at my side. What is he talking about? My mother died in an accident with my dad when I was less than two. There is nothing to know. She was powerful. My father was powerful. Together, they created me - also powerful.
“She is.” I try to state it like a fact, but even I can hear the doubt in my voice.
Eoin remains silent, forcing me to look at him. He gazes straight up at me. “Not everyone is strong enough - or perhaps stupid enough - to resist my offer. Time will tell which it is for you. I know what choice your mother made so, after all this,” he gestures at the knife, “be sure to go home to that aunt of yours and see if she can’t offer you some clarification on the facts of the matter.”
“You’re lying,” I growl, putting more weight on his chest.
Eoin coughs out a laugh. “To what end? Do what you have to,” he adds, “but remember, in the words of Oscar Wilde, The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” He laughs and laughs and…
I flip the blade back up and, holding it like a machete, swipe it down with all my strength. The enchanted knife cuts clean through Eoin’s neck, blooding gurgling and spurting, shooting onto my leggings, my sweatshirt, my skin.
My breath is ragged, coming in gasps. Every inch of my body shakes. I can’t believe what I’ve done. Stepping back from the now lifeless body, I lean up against the air conditioning machinery and try to keep from passing out. It had to be done. It had to. I repeat it again and again, hoping to convince myself it is the truth.
Eoin’s headless body shifts on the ground. The blood has already stopped flowing and energy begins to rise up from inside of him, as black as ever, threatening to pull me into the vortex it creates. His dark magic pours out of him in a steady onyx-colored stream from inside of which rises the screams and cries of people in agony. His body begins to cave in on itself until it becomes a sort of permanent shadow. I drop down and curl into a ball, wrapping my arms over my head to protect myself from the continuing onslaught of magic and mayhem.
The darkness continues rising into the air, spreading itself out like a black cloud over the building, over Astoria. As it dissipates and the energy begins to wane, I realize that what I thought was me shaking with terror is actually the building.
The air conditioning unit creaks with a metallic grating sound and gravel shifts around me. A crack breaks open on the ledge of the building and splinters downward, onto the roof, opening a wide gash.
I jump to my feet. Lucas is inside. People are in the basement. I have to get everyone out of here before this place implodes. Running for the stairs, I throw a quick look back over my shoulder. Eoin is gone, only a dark stain left in his place. Thoughts of Eoin and his story need to wait because the shaking is getting worse by the second.
I throw open the door and charge down the stairs, pulling to a stop at the bottom. Who to check on first? This crazy magic world, this is Lucas’ thing. He has to know what to do, doesn’t he? I try reaching him through our bond, but I’m too freaked out to concentrate and he is probably too busy to listen for me.
Without hearing his words, I know what he would say. This is my responsibility. But those people in the basement? Just stupid kids who got tricked or innocent victims grabbed up off the street. I have to let them out first. Not to mention the fact that Antonio is still down there. There isn’t much decision making required.
I find the freight elevator, but the building is shaking so much I picture it crashing all the way down, and decide against it. I shove through the door to the stairs and continue down, down, down until I can’t go any further.
Water pours down from the pipes in the corridor now. Giant puddles are starting to form on the concrete floor. I splash through them, running as fast as I can toward the cells. It was dark down here the first time, and it seems even darker now. I hone in on the feelings of the humans trapped in the dark and the water and the terrifying shaking. Their auras are slashed through with panic, desperation, hopelessness. It drives me to run faster, flying around the turn, through the room where we fought the drones.
The metal door flies open with the barest jolt of energy. Inside, the kids who were so out of it before are on their feet crying, shivering, shouting. Everyone is up against the bars pulling and pushing and wasting energy on something they will never be able to open on their own.
“Antonio!” I shout, catching sight of him. He stands up against his cell looking for the same way out as everyone else.
“Tristan,” he cries. “You came for me. Nick - is he…”
“He’s at the shop firing up the espresso machine - and waiting for you. Back up.”
“But how…” he starts to ask. I don’t have time for explanations and I don’t have time to hide what I am about to do.
“Antonio, back against the wall.”
He does what I say and I grip the bars. Pushing up a surge of magic, I rip the door open. Antonio’s eyes go wide, but he wants out more than he wants an explanation.
“Give me a second,” I tell him. “I need to get the others. I’ll lead you guys to the exit, then I need to go find Lucas. Run to the shop. Take everyone with you. My aunt will deal with them until I get there.”
Antonio nods and balances himself against the wall just as it opens up, a gash through the concrete blocks stretch down the wall and along the floor. I think of Lucas upstairs and try to connect with him again. The emptiness, the feeling that we aren’t bound is even more terrifying than this building falling down around me.
Instead of wasting time pulling the individual doors open, I scream at everyone to keep away from the bars and send a shot of electricity along the length. The doors hang crookedly from their hinges, each one open.
The kids inside step out, disoriented, afraid, sick, and dirty, Jannelis among them. She hangs her head without looking at me.
“You guys are going to be OK now,” I try to assure them. “Once we get upstairs, Antonio here is going to lead you to a safe place, far from here. The danger is almost over but we have to get out of here, so move it.”
And they do, running and falling and getting up and running again, up the stairs to the first floor, a place I haven’t visited. It is a wide open space like the second floor, a warehouse. Wires dangle from the ceiling, swaying, and bits of insulation float to the floor. A light fixture crashes in a far corner echoing in the empty space.
“Where’s the door?” Antonio asks from the center of the room where we are gathered.
Shit. He’s right. This place is ginormous. I look from one end to the other and give up, telling my powers to lead me. I know there was a door here before, the one with the surveillance camera. Eoin probably pulled some special mumbo jumbo to seal us in before I killed him.
Windows, then. I don’t need the door.
“Windows,” I shout at him.
We all rush forward. The windows are only about five feet off the ground, easy enough to get through, especially with a little magic boost. I wrench the gate off one and the glass explodes outwards. Maybe not the best thing for all these people without shoes, but it beats being crushed in a pile of rubble four floors thick.
“Come on,” Antonio shouts, gesturing for the others to move forward.
He laces his fingers together and boosts each one out one after the other. He could have gone first. I would have encouraged him to go first, but Antonio hangs back until every last person is safely outside. I suddenly see what Nick loves about this guy.
“You going to be OK?” he asks.
A column splits in half and crashes to the floor.
“I’ll give it a shot,” I tell him. “Besides, I have to tell Nick how brave you were in the middle of all this chaos.”
“See you on the other side,” he says, grinning. Antonio hoists himself up and out and, hopefully, as far away from here as possible.
Lucas. I call his name, reaching out through the chaos. Nothing. It’s not just that I can’t hear him, I don’t feel him. It is an emptiness like I’ve never known before, like a part of me is missing.
I take off running again, hurdling debris and cavernous cracks. Flinging open the door to the stairs, I grab both of the railings and steady myself, running like the NYC varsity cross country champion I am. I’m not completely sure which floor we were on, but I remember descending and think it was three.
The door Eoin used is open, a body in front of it. My heart stops for a second, long enough for me to figure out that it isn’t Lucas. I step over the drone and head into complete pandemonium.
Since I blew out the windows earlier, gusts of freezing cold air rush into the room, sending debris flying around the room. There are bodies everywhere, blood everywhere. Lucas has hacked his way through at least two dozen drones. One lies at my feet, twitching. I touch him with my foot and put him out of his misery.
Dead bodies everywhere, but no Lucas. If he had left, he would have come to find me and since he knew where I was headed, we should have met up. My heart pounds and the magic thrums through my body.
Come on, Lucas. Answer me. As your queen, I command you to answer. It sounds just like the kind of lame medieval language he would respond to.
Shit, Lucas, I’m not kidding. You need to answer me. Less Middle Ages, more me.
Still not a clue.
A corner of the wall cracks open wide and plaster tumbles into the room.
I begin grabbing bodies, looking under them, flipping them over, checking to make sure I just can’t see that Lucas is hurt somewhere in here. I lift each one and as I reject more and more, I really start to panic.
I reach down and use my new and improved strength to pick up one guy in each hand, grabbing one by the hoodie and the other by his flannel shirt. I toss them aside and there, on the floor, is the one thing, among all of the terrible things that I have seen today, that pushes me over the edge. Lucas.
He’s lying face down in a puddle of blood and I let out a wail that surprises even me. I turn him over. Lucas’ eyes are closed, his face slack. The side of his skull is smashed in. I pull him against my chest and hug him as hard as I can, hoping that I can somehow squeeze the life back into him.
“No,” I sob over and over again. “Please, Lucas. You can’t. I,” I scream out in agony. “I ditched you. I told you I wouldn’t and I left you here to fight on your own. Why?” I cry, “Why didn’t you let me stay with you?”
As tight as I squeeze, though, I’m not able to hug the life back into him. I lower Lucas to the floor and kneel over him. There has to be a way to fix this. There has to be. Lucas is the first guy, other than Nick, that I have ever trusted. How can I just let that end?
The healing spell. I lay my hands against the wound in Lucas’ head and speak the words of the spell quickly and carefully. I etch the symbols against his skin. I say the words again. I repeat the symbols. I try one more time, casting the spell in words and symbols. He does not move.
An inner wall collapses, blocking the door. But I am not leaving here without Lucas. I stare at the floor, thinking, holding one of Lucas’ hands between my own. A kiss, I think. How about a kiss? All this stuff is complete fairy tale bullshit, isn’t it? Maybe the fairy tale way of bringing someone back to life will work here. I lean over and press my lips to his, hoping he can feel how much I want him to live, how much I need him to live. His lips stay cold and motionless.
A portion of the floor buckles and falls to the level below. I can’t stay in here much longer but I’m not going to leave Lucas to be crushed, either. I tug him back up to a sitting position and push magic throughout my body, enough to be sure I will be able to pull him, and the eighty pounds he has on me, to a standing position.
Something clatters beneath his body. It is a dagger with a rounded pommel, a pommel covered in blood. Tears blur my vision for a minute as a picture of Lucas, fighting to keep me safe, to keep all the good guys safe, forms in my head. A drone must have snuck up on him while he was fighting another and blindsided him.
I wonder what he thought as the life flowed out of him, if he even had time to think anything at all. I remember what he said about asking to end his cycle as a Watcher. But I’m alive, I want to shout at him, and you should be here with me. I pick up the knife and hurl it across the room.
A knife. An idea prickles along my neck. I lay Lucas gently back against the remnants of the floor. I used Lucas’ blood to make me stronger. But I am infinitely more powerful than he is and my blood is what holds my magic. My blood is, after all, what this whole thing has been about.
I push up Lucas’ sleeve revealing the skin of his inner forearm. I reach under my shirt and grab Gae Buidhe. This had better be a decent cut with a decent amount of blood. No dribble is going to bring someone back to life.
I slice his arm. The blood barely flows now that he is dead, but the skin is open. Hurrying, I push up my own sleeve and slice deep, knowing that a cut from Gae Buidhe can’t kill me, its owner. Blood pours out. I angle my arm over his and let the blood flow - and flow and flow - while reciting the words of the healing spell.
At first, the only thing I notice is a dizzy sensation that is no doubt part blood loss, part panic. Lucas is getting colder by the second, his lips taking on a bluish tint. The cut on my arm starts to heal over.
The building is making a very not good creaking noise that suggests I have a few more minutes before I’m trapped in here. I’ve failed. Lucas is dead. Nana is dead. Eoin is dead, too, but in the scheme of things, that seems like a small consolation.
I swipe at my face with my sleeve, wiping away tears and snot and get ready to pick up Lucas. And then I see something I have never seen on him before. It is faint at first, really just wisps of pastel shades so light they are like the smoke trail from a blown out candle. The colors are a mix, a blend of all of the emotions I have ever observed in a person - love and hate, peace and anxiety. There is even a shot of hormone, of attraction. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It is his aura.
“Lucas?” I bend over him. “Lucas, can you hear me?”
His eyelids flutter and he takes a gasping breath, color rushing into his face. The gash on the side of his face closes over, the dent disappearing. If it weren’t for the sticky blood matting his hair, no one would even suspect he had been injured.
“What happened?” he whispers. I have never heard such beautiful words in my entire life.
“I saved your damn life, Watcher. That’s what happened.” But now I’m crying full blast so the snarkiness is somehow lost.
Lucas smiles, grimacing at the residual pain he feels. He pushes himself up onto his elbows.
“I was dead? Truly dead?”
I stop. I am ecstatic to have Lucas back with me, but what have I done? I’ve undone the natural order of things. I’ve brought the dead back to life. Maybe this isn’t right. Maybe this isn’t at all what he would have wanted.
“You were,” I croak.
He smiles at me. “Well done, Seeker. And the Ripper?”
“Is just a bad memory.”
The smile widens.
“And as much as I would love to hear you tell me how wonderful you think I am, we have about four minutes before this whole place comes down.”
“Ah. Yes. I hadn’t noticed - having been dead and all.”
“Again,” I point out.
I roll up from my knees to rest on my heels and put out a hand to help him up. Lucas reaches out and takes it, but instead of standing, he pulls me closer, his lips meeting mine. It is not cold, it is not without feeling. This kiss is everything written in Lucas’ aura and more. The energy of it is almost shocking. I bury my hands in his blood stained hair and kiss him back with only the minor fear that there is still snot on my face.
“Come on,” he says, breaking apart and pulling me to my feet.
The two of us take off running to the door in the wall. It is covered in heavy chunks of plaster and concrete. I gesture for Lucas to get behind me and smash it to bits with a decent dose of power. We shove our way through and head down the stairs.
The railings are coming detached from the walls, the stairs twisting and wrenching themselves away from their frame. There is a giant metallic crash somewhere up above and I wonder if it isn’t the air conditioning unit collapsing.
When we reach the first floor, I push through the front door and we scramble over cracks and debris. A light fixture tumbles down and I duck out of the way just in time.
“Where are we going?” Lucas asks.
“Window,” I shout over my shoulder.
And just like Antonio and the other kids, we climb up and out. I’m relieved to feel the sun and the cold air and to know that my job in there is done - at least for now. Lucas and I run a block down then stop to watch as the building gives a final shudder and collapses with a loud roar and a massive cloud of dust.
Lucas stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“You did it,” he said. “I knew you could, but, what a feat.”
“I didn’t do that,” I explain.
“I was referring to the drones, to Eoin. And then to have the presence of mind to rescue your friends.”
I rest my head back against his chest. “I’m power mad, not evil.” Not yet, anyway, at least according to Eoin’s theory. “We have a lot to talk about, Lucas.” Like the fact that I brought him back to life and the not revolting development where are touching each other. “But I have to get back and help Miranda and see what’s going on with everyone else. I feel like a giant brain scrubbing of these events is the only thing that will keep those kids from losing their minds or telling everyone they know and sounding nuts.”
“Of course,” Lucas answers. “But Tristan…”
I turn to face him and he doesn’t let go meaning we are pressed up against one another way tight. I could get used to this.
“I…”
He breaks off again looking embarrassed.
“Spit it out,” I encourage.
“It appears I can see your aura. I believe when you transferred your blood to me, I inherited some of your powers.”
“Oh?” Oh. What embarrassing thing am I currently demonstrating? I mean being this close to him is definitely having an effect. He can’t understand how to read the aura yet, can he? I can feel my face getting hot, another betrayal by my emotions.
“Really,” I continue. “Well, then you should know that Seekers try not to read one another’s auras. It’s like eavesdropping, you know? Listening in on something private. Also, just so you know, you aren’t hiding your aura anymore.”
“Ah,” he says, smiling, “then I assume you know what I’m feeling?” I see the cloud of bright orange, mingled with red, and tones of pale blue. Hormone, affection, contentedness.
I shrug. “I assume it’s the same as mine. Come on, Watcher. We still have a mess to straighten out.”
I reset the spell on the fence so Eoin won’t know I’ve been playing with it. It glows a nice bright red. Likewise, I quickly healed up Lucas and Nick’s wounds and stashed Gae Buidhe back under my sweatshirt. We sit down on the floor looking dirty and miserable, exactly the way they left us.
“So?” Eoin steps up in front of the crate looking, if anything, cleaner and more handsome than before. “Have we developed some foolproof scheme of escape or have you come to your senses?”
“I’ve decided to stand by my answer of shove it,” I say from my spot on the floor.
Eoin’s hands reflexively form fists by his side.
“Charming,” he says. “You are nothing if not consistent. I assume you’ve said goodbye to your friends? Or perhaps not. Perhaps you persist in believing in your ultimate victory. It’s always that way, fighting to the bitter end. But as you see, I and my kind, have always prevailed.” He turns to the two dozen drones who have crowded into the room, their gray, nearly non-existent auras hovering like a sad cloud just below the ceiling.
“Take them,” he orders.
The gate opens and the drones move forward. I send out a burst of energy, wiping out the first row of five or so. They tumble to the ground and Eoin steps back, letting them do the dirty work.
Lucas takes up his role of Watcher and leaps on the next few, without the benefit of weapons. They wrestle and after a few well-placed cracks in the head and punches to the gut, they wrangle his arms behind him, fastening them with some kind of enchanted restraints. He won’t be able to get out of them without my help.
Poor Nick shivers in the corner of the cage, unable to move.
“Get the boy,” Eoin instructs two drones.
They take him without a fight.
Eoin himself steps up and fastens my hands behind my back with the same magical wire ties as Lucas. They make my fingers tingle, but I’m a hundred percent sure I could bust out of them if I wanted to.
“Truth be told, I’m rather glad this is the path you’ve chosen,” Eoin growls into my ear. “You’re quite a thorn in my side and I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer. When I’m done, your power will merely become part of mine. I will absorb it and use it to do very, very terrible things.”
He grins. “Bring them up to my playroom,” he says.
We follow the drones, Lucas and I pretending to struggle, as they bring us back to the elevator and up to the top floor. This time, we don’t head to the white room which, I assume, Eoin is afraid of making messy with all the bloodletting he is planning on.
Instead, we’re led into a wide open space, an adjoining room that has the same million dollar view of the New York City skyline. The decor here is far less pleasant than the other room. A large wooden table sits in the middle of the floor. Plastic sheets are spread out underneath, buckets scattered around. I’m fairly sure that whole set-up is for me.
Even less promising is some contraption that sits over by the wall. It looks like one of those anti-gravity things and plastic sheets also line the floor there. I try not to show any curiosity or fear, but Eoin catches me checking it out.
“Ah, I see you are looking at my toy. No doubt you are wondering how it is used.” He turns to Lucas. “You know how it operates, do you not? Why don’t you explain?”
Lucas smirks. “Why don’t you go to hell?”
A drone jabs him in the stomach, hard, with something I can’t see. Magic pulses powerfully along my arms, itching to let loose. If they hit him like that again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep from destroying them.
“It’s for blood letting,” Nick answers out of nowhere. “I’ve seen pictures of stuff like this used on animals. You slit their throat and the blood flows out, keeps it from contaminating the meat.”
Where the hell did that factoid come from? And why would he bring attention on himself?
Eoin claps his hands together. “Bravo, young man! Exactly. And since you are already familiar with it, why don’t we have you be the first to demonstrate how it works?”
Nick glances my way and in his eyes I see that he has every confidence that I will save the day, that he has nothing to fear. I sure as hell hope I don’t disappoint. I exchange a look with Lucas to see if this is it. He’s still doubled over from the wallop he took to his middle, but he has the presence of mind to be able to send me the unspoken message that I need to hold off. I’m not sure how much more self-control I have left, though. Every cell in my body is amped up, ready to wipe this place off the map.
Scanning the room, I check out the number of drones - too many - and the number of exits. Not enough. With our blood mingled, I hope that sending a message to Nick may work. Run, I warn him without words. When the time comes, run as fast as you can. Do not worry about me. Get back to the restaurant - no, head for the store, explain to Miranda what’s going on and have her tell Nana to hold on. It’s almost over.
When Nick’s eyebrows furrow, I know he has understood: I haven’t had time to tell him about Nana in the midst of all the kidnappings and killings. He’s heard me; he just doesn’t know what I’m talking about. He winks, which is totally inappropriate to our situation, but also totally Nick.
My success with the telepathic message has me wondering if I can’t just contact the shop myself. I mean, technically, my blood is mixed with Nana’s and Miranda’s too, and their instantaneous knowledge of my wrongdoings has always seemed supernatural. Maybe I should give it a shot in case things don’t go the way I plan, like I blow some spell and the roof collapses on all of us, me included.
I picture the shop, the Sunday crowd settled in, Miranda in her tarot corner. She’s not focused on the cards, of course. Her thoughts are with Nana, upstairs in her Sleeping Beauty state. I work to envision it, to make it more than just a memory.
But I can’t. I do see the shop - empty. The espresso machines and lights are off, but there are dishes on the tables and the counter. Miranda would never let the place look like this and she would never close up in the middle of the day. Unless…
My eyes shoot to Lucas. He knows what I’m doing, I can see it. I can also see he wants me to stop, to stay focused, but I can’t. He sends me a warning look. It may mean he is afraid I’m getting distracted from what is going on here. It may mean he is afraid of how I will react to what I see at home. Right now, that second one seems way more important.
Turning myself away so Lucas isn’t in my line of sight, I stare out at the bright skyline. It is a clear winter day and sun glints off the buildings in the distance in bright flashes. I zoom in on one in the distance, a white arc of light hits the mirrored tower and shoots back into my eyes wiping out the room around me.
And then I’m in the shop. Not just looking at it, in it. The “Closed” sign is flipped out toward the street. The door is locked. Half eaten food sits on plates. Steam rises out of coffee mugs. Miranda must have tossed everyone out in a big hurry.
I run to the kitchen. Also empty. No sign of my family or even Hector or Yoriko. A tray of cupcakes sits on the chrome countertop, dishes fill the sink. I reach out and touch one of the cakes with my fingertip. Still hot.
I want to rush out of here, run upstairs, throw open doors. I want to find Nana sitting up in bed talking, telling a story about the strange spell and the crazy place it took her too. I will let Miranda yell at me for leaving the Rippers, for not trusting them to handle things at home and watch as Graham tries to calm her down, winking at me over her shoulder. I want the usual, day-to-day stuff that makes up our lives. More than anything, though, I don’t want to find out that that can never happen again.
My heart hammers in my chest, magic on the verge of spilling over. I twist my hair up into a knot. Not facing it isn’t going to make it not true. Better to find out. To handle it and to destroy the creatures who have done this. Better to take charge and protect the people I have left.
Something tugs at me, something Lucas shaped. He tests our new and improved connection, reaching out to me. There is no time. I don’t know if I think it or if he says it, but I fly to the door and race upstairs, through the living room and down the hall, knowing what I’m about to see, but somehow hoping I’m wrong.
The hushed tones of voices reach me from the square of light on the carpet. Two voices. Miranda and Graham. They talk low and even from here I can make out Graham’s soothing tones. He hushes my aunt, says the things he knows she needs to hear.
I come up short outside the room and look in. Graham faces me, his arms around Miranda who has her face buried against his chest. He runs a hand along her back and talks into her hair. I hesitate, unable to go in. As long as I don’t step in that room, see Nana, or hear the words my aunt has to say, there is still a chance everything is OK. Isn’t there?
Miranda lifts her head suddenly, listening.
“Tristan?” she says into the room.
I step across the threshold.
She turns, her normally tight, perfect bun coming loose, hair trailing down her neck, her back. Miranda’s eyes glitter with tears, but her face is set with rage.
“They did it,” she says. “Those bastards did it.” She frowns and her brows furrow. “You...you’re not here, are you?”
I force down the sob rising from my chest. “New trick,” I say, hoarse. “I hope you’re impressed.”
My aunt stomps toward me. “They did it,” she repeats. Her jaw muscle jumps as she clenches her teeth. “And now you’re going to finish it. Can you do it?”
I look over at my grandmother on the bed, small, still. I’m afraid if I think about this too long, I’ll get stuck in whatever in between world I’m in right now.
“Damn right I can do it,” I growl.
Graham comes up behind Miranda and lays his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll be waiting to say goodbye with you,” he offers. As in, now is not the time to freak out and have the breakdown that is about one thought away.
I look at Miranda. “They have Nick. And Antonio. And a bunch of other people. It’s a full house over there.”
“Are you saying you’re not up to the challenge, niece?” It is a challenge of its own.
I swallow, hard. “I’m saying you should put on a lot of tea. We’re going to have guests.”
Lucas pulls harder and I’m back, standing in the sunlit room. Eoin is in front of me, smirking. “So sorry about your grandmother,” he says, “But you see, we weren’t quite sure you understood the lengths to which we would go to secure your cooperation,” he says. “Surely now that you’ve had your little visit, you do not doubt that we will stop at nothing to obtain what we want. How many people must die, Tristan, before you see the light? Do you really want us to torture your friend here?”
I check out Nick. Two drones secure his arms behind him but it’s not like he has any intention of fighting back. It’s not really his style to start throwing punches. That is what he has me for. And the expression on his face says just that, that he still believes that even after they attach him to the torture device, even after they put a knife to his neck, I will step up and save the day.
I straighten myself out to my fully impressive sixty-four inches and level my most withering look at him. “And do you really think that after what you’ve done, I would ever agree to work with you? You’ve just proven, like I had any doubt, that you are willing to do anything to get what you want. Meaning that one day, when you’re sick of me and you have everything you need, you’ll wipe me out, too. So I’m going to have to say that I would rather have you drain the blood of every person in this room, me included, than share even a fraction of my power with you.”
The corner of Eoin’s mouth quirks upward. “You never cease to disappoint.” He spins on his heel and faces Nick. “And that, young man, is how much your beloved friend cares for you. And you,” he turns toward Lucas who has an entire crowd of drones surrounding him. “She clearly cares for you as much as that last young Seeker did.” He laughs. “Just not one for the ladies, I suppose.”
Lucas ignores him, looking only at me, sending me the message that only I can hear. Be patient.
I lift my eyebrows at him. I’m not actually going to let Nick get hurt - not even a paper cut, never mind slitting his throat.
Of course not. Just don’t show them your hand too soon. We have to catch them off guard.
Eoin is too busy contentedly leading Nick to his toy to pay attention to our unspoken conversation. He undoes the straps himself. It is obviously not the first time he’s used this thing.
“Time to bid your friend adieu,” he tells Nick.
“It’s OK, Tris,” Nick says from where he is. His voice trembles and his whole body shakes, but I still see the confidence in his eyes. “Don’t give them anything.”
“I’m so sorry, Nick,” I say. Not because he’s going to die, but because he’s had to go through any of this to begin with, because I never let him in on what was going on, and because I haven’t told him about Antonio yet. As a friend, I totally suck right now. “But you know I love you,” I add.
“I love you, too. See you on the other side.”
“How touching,” Eoin sneers. He turns to the drones. “Take him.”
Nick puts up as much of a fight as I can expect out of him, thrashing a little, dragging his feet. I get the impression it is all for dramatic effect as he bides his time.
While they focus on getting him under control and strapped into the machine, I snap the restraints around my wrists. The sharp plastic edge cuts into my wrist, giving me an idea. Blood magic. I’ve already used Nick and Lucas’ blood to amplify my own powers. What would happen if I spilled some of my own blood, a controlled amount, and added it to the spell that I’m planning on using to demolish this place. I’m pretty sure I would open up a world of chaos, but maybe that is what we need right now: ridiculous, over the top, mayhem. The kind of thing that will distract the drones and throw Eoin off his game. The kind of magic that can bring down a Ripper’s world.
Lucas’ eyes flash at me. I’m fairly sure there is a suggestion that I not do what I’m planning, but he is my Watcher. He doesn’t get to decide and, frankly, if he doesn’t want to participate, he can do just that, watch. He frowns at me sternly and I want to laugh. Like that’s supposed to stop me? My grandmother is dead. My best friend is next. And if my Watcher thinks he is going to die for me, he is very wrong.
The drones have Nick secured to the table. As they flip it over to turn him upside down, I slit the skin on each wrist with the plastic cuffs, letting them dig in deep. Warm blood trickles down my fingertips and I begin a spell, an offensive spell, something destructive, something I can control. It is the first time I’ve ever tried anything this big, but I have to have faith in myself, in my ancestors, in Nana. I can do this.
A drone opens a small case in front of Eoin, who reaches in and lifts out a long, silver dagger. The blade glints in the sunlight. He raises it, muttering a spell.
“Any final words?” he asks Nick, laying the blade on his neck.
Nick falters. “Tristan?”
“Lucas?” I ask.
He nods at me.
Lifting my hands out from behind my back, I point my finger at the row of windows beside me and drag it in a straight line. They shatter, one-by-one, cracks spidering the surface of each before blowing out of the wall and raining shards of glass on the street below.
Eoin stands, blade in midair, his mouth open. It takes him only a minute to realize what is happening. I know when it registers, because he hurls a ball of black energy towards me. I thrust out a hand and bat it away harmlessly.
The drones, for all their mindlessness, seem confused. They look at one another and at Eoin, waiting for instructions. That leaves time for Lucas to sprint across the room toward Nick. He turns his back to me and I carefully zap his restraints without hurting him. They drop to the floor and he begins undoing the contraption holding Nick in.
I turn my attention back to Eoin who was only thrown for a second. Now he stands, hands above his head, etching sigils in the air and whispering the words of a spell to himself. I suspect it is a big one. In that case, I would prefer he doesn’t get to finish.
“You got him?” I yell to Lucas.
“Done.” He grabs Nick and shoves him toward the door. “Go!” he orders. Nick starts running, shooting me one last look before disappearing.
I turn back to Eoin who is still casting his spell, something I didn’t even know was possible. Again. Not going to happen. Squeezing my fists, I force more blood to flow. Lucas comes up next to me.
“You remember what you have to do, correct?”
Decapitation. I’m feeling a lot less squeamish about it since I met Eoin.
“I do.”
“He’s winding up to something quite big, but remember, your power is stronger - many times over. You may, however, want to take him out before he gets done with…” he gestures at Eoin’s hand movements, “that.”
At some point in Eoin’s spell, the drones, who have been moving around like drunk toddlers, get it together and fall in. They create a wall between us and Eoin, shielding him so he can continue to do whatever terrible things he has in mind unmolested.
Without much effort on my part, I take out the front row as they move in closer to us.
“I will take care of the rest,” Lucas says in a rush. “You need to get to Eoin and do what needs to be done.”
I toss off two drones as they surge forward. “I thought we were supposed to stick together,” I say, kicking them out of the way. “What happened to no ditching you?”
Lucas, who is still without weapons, swings his leg around in some crazy martial arts kick knocking a fairly ginormous pair of drones out of the way.
“It’s not ditching,” he grunts, “if I tell you to go.”
He’s right. I don’t even see Eoin anymore. Who knows how long it will take him to hit the street, jump in a cab, and disappear into the mass of humanity that is New York City? We can’t afford to let him get away and I can’t go back and face Miranda knowing he’s done just that.
But leaving Lucas alone and without sharp objects, as capable as he is, just seems wrong. It’s like letting the first Lucas I met sleep in the Starbucks instead of taking him home.
“This is my responsibility,” he says, cracking a female in the face with his elbow, “this is my fate - to serve you. Let me do my duty.”
“Let me say again,” I zap an approaching drone, “your responsibilities suck. Meet you at the shop?”
“Indeed. And Tristan?” He pauses just a beat, long enough to really look at me, like maybe it’s the last time. “Take care.” Before I can answer, he gets back to business.
Searching the room, I find a door open just a crack, a hidden panel I hadn’t noticed before. It slips closed, folding itself into the wall. A trail of dark energy leads in that direction, so common sense would say that is where I’ll find Eoin.
The space behind the torture room is even blacker than Eoin’s magic. He definitely has the upper hand, knowing where he is going while I don’t. Using my human senses isn’t going to help, so I will have to break out something more supernatural.
I start by pushing aside those senses, ignoring my brain when it tells me to stare into the darkness harder, to strain my hearing trying to catch a sound. I focus on the nothingness, letting my power tell me where to go and what to do.
As I envision the twists and turns stretching out in front of me, I come to understand that somewhere down this maze of hallways there is an exit Eoin is heading to. I close my eyes and picture doorways, windows, stairs to the roof. I send out my magic to shut them all down. No one gets out of this place until I say so.
Satisfied that we’re sealed in tight, I turn my attention to finding Eoin. And then what? I’ve done a lot of things I never imagined doing since that night my aunts showed up, but decapitating someone is a whole new level. Sure, Eoin is a monster but, unlike the drones whose lives are more or less already over, he is a living, breathing monster. Cutting off his head means getting up close, feeling the slice of the blade, and watching his life drain away.
And then I picture Nana, so still and small under her favorite quilts in the supposed safety of her own room. Nana, who tried her best to teach me to be a good person, who used her magic to make people’s lives better, not to destroy them.
Eoin didn’t show my grandmother any mercy. And then there’s Nick. Eoin had every intention of letting him bleed out in that room, followed by Lucas, and then me. So yeah, I don’t have to enjoy it, but killing Eoin is most definitely the right thing to do.
Which means I need to find him and this place is a real pain in the ass to navigate. I run down the hall in front of me, letting my hand skim the wall for guidance. As my fingers slide along the rough stone surface, they pick up more than dust; they pick up the residual energy Eoin is leaving behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs.
Without worrying about stumbling or running into a wall, I continue down the path the dark magic leaves behind. I twist and turn for what seems like an impossibly long time until I find myself faced with another door. I take a deep breath and use my magic to kick it in.
The new room is a large one, unfurnished like the place where we first entered. Grill covered windows allow for filtered light to stream in. Ahead, there is an exposed metal staircase that heads up. Feet echo on the steps and I run forward. But when I try to move, I find myself slowed down. Whatever stunt Eoin pulled at the pool place, he throws my way now. I push hard, but my legs barely cover a few inches at a time. The walls quiver and warp like they are getting further away.
I grunt in frustration. Eoin forgets who he is dealing with. Forcing my arms in front of me, I dig the remnants of the plastic ties into my wrists opening up the cuts again. As the blood begins flowing, I force magic through my hands and out the ends of my fingers, tearing a space in the energy that Eoin has thrown out. The world seems normal through the gap, so I throw my arms wide, ripping the spell apart. It dissipates and dies out.
I take off running again, following Eoin’s magic like a dog who has caught a scent. I clamber up the stairs - one flight, two flights, three - happy for once about all those hours of cross country track practice.
Above me, I catch sight of Eoin as he bursts out of a door and onto the roof. The roof. Of course the roof. Where I risk flying over the side and crashing on the sidewalk below. I shake my head, remembering Lucas’ warning to never let a Ripper get into my mind, never let him make me think I can’t do something. If I start to doubt myself, I will die.
I’m not sure what Eoin’s plan is, but I assume it involves some sort of escape I hadn’t planned on. Maybe he’ll turn into a bat and fly off. For a second, I almost laugh. Up ahead, Eoin ducks behind some enormous piece of machinery that I think is probably the cooling system.
I walk forward more carefully, muttering an offensive spell under my breath and squeezing my fists to make sure the blood keeps flowing. My feet crunch on the gravel surface of the roof, but it’s not like I’m trying to sneak up on him. I surround myself with an arc of powerful blood magic, hoping it will be enough to prevent an attack.
Eoin throws out his arms the minute we’re face to face, shooting everything he has in my direction. It bounces off harmlessly. Eoin’s eyebrows raise in spite of his efforts to hide his feelings.
“It’s interesting,” I say, “but I feel like I get stronger every single second. You know, I’m a pretty crappy student, but this stuff,” I wiggle my fingers at him, “I think this is my jam, you know? I just.” I shove him back without touching him. “Keep.” Shove. “Getting.” Shove. “Better.” Eoin stumbles and falls.
To his credit, he does some kind of impressive ninja roll and springs to his feet, shooting out a bolt of power right at my core. It barely grazes me and I smile.
“Like I said, I get stronger every single second.” A brief flicker of something flashes behind Eoin’s eyes and I could be mistaken but it looks a lot like fear.
“Perhaps we need to step back for a moment, reassess the situation.”
“You killed my grandmother,” I point out, “or did you assume I wouldn’t care about that with all my power madness?”
“Your grandmother’s death was regrettable,” he explains, “but it just serves to make the point that this is incredibly important.”
“This?” I raise an eyebrow.
“You, your ever-developing magic power. Great power comes at a cost, Tristan. You think you can control it - and not the other way round? It is what you think, is it not?”
It is. I don’t answer but the truth has been creeping up on me steadily since the night the aunts visited. I want this. I know I can be powerful without sacrificing others, without becoming evil like Eoin and the others. I will be the strongest on my own terms.
Which begins with ending this.
“And you think,” I answer, “that there is anything you can offer me other than the unspoken understanding that one day, when you’ve taken everything you want from me, you will eliminate me for good? There is nothing you can give me, Eoin, because there is nothing I want that I cannot obtain for myself.”
He shuffles back in tiny steps, the gravel scraping beneath his boots. His moving backward is the sign I have been looking for, the thing that indicates that he is now afraid of me, which means I must now be strong enough to finish him.
The ledge of the roof is only a few feet behind him, but I know that falling won’t do the job. For all I know, he’ll just burst into a cloud of a thousand bats and fly off somewhere to regroup, to wait it out until he can catch us and kill us. I reach under my sweat shirt and pull out Gae Buidhe. Eoin’s eyes go wide.
Turning, he makes a run for the ledge. I guess my instincts about his surviving the fall were good. There is no way I’m letting him off this easy. I extend my arms and pull them back quickly like I’m doing the breaststroke. The force of the magic creates a giant wave that gathers him up and drags him toward me, depositing him at my feet.
It’s time. I push down any apprehension I have about what I’m about to do, any second thoughts that bring up the morality of cutting off a person’s head. This is no person. Besides, if I don’t end this now, once and for ever, none of us will ever be safe again. It’s only a matter of time before Nick and Antonio get dragged off the street again or Graham finds himself upside-down in a bloodletting contraption and Miranda falls into a forever sleep.
I steady myself with a foot in the center of Eoin’s chest. His black magic instantly seeps upward through my boot, my sock, my foot. I absorb it, make it mine. Eoin wants my power to magnify his own, why not do the reverse?
Flipping the knife over in my hand, I grasp the blade and lift it high to give it momentum when I slice. I don’t want to have to try this more than once. My eyes flick quickly to Eoin’s and away again. I may be OK with taking his head, but I don’t think I can do it while looking at him.
He smirks and the dark energy I have taken from him pulses through me as anger, rage. What the hell does he have to smirk about? I swallow it down. I’m doing this because I have to, because, as Lucas says, it will reset the balance of good and evil, not because I want revenge for what he has done to Nana. At least that’s what I’m going to tell myself.
“You think this is going to change anything?” he asks quietly.
“I think it’s going to make you dead.”
“And you believe that is important because I am so powerful.” He laughs. “I am nothing compared to some of the others and certainly not to she who rules us all.”
I waver for a second, lowering the knife.
“Did you actually believe I was the leader of our little troupe? I’m honored. And yet therein lies another little piece of vital information your family has withheld from you.”
I frown down at him. I can’t believe I’m falling for this, a story that he is creating to throw me off, to give him the upper hand and a chance to escape. I shake my head.
“I’m resigned to my fate,” Eoin says. “You will kill me no matter what and yet I will tell you more about who you are and where you come from than anyone around you has dared to do. Tell me, Tristan, what do you know of your mother?”
“My mother is dead,” I say “There’s nothing to know.”
He laughs again. “Is she now?”
The knife hangs at my side. What is he talking about? My mother died in an accident with my dad when I was less than two. There is nothing to know. She was powerful. My father was powerful. Together, they created me - also powerful.
“She is.” I try to state it like a fact, but even I can hear the doubt in my voice.
Eoin remains silent, forcing me to look at him. He gazes straight up at me. “Not everyone is strong enough - or perhaps stupid enough - to resist my offer. Time will tell which it is for you. I know what choice your mother made so, after all this,” he gestures at the knife, “be sure to go home to that aunt of yours and see if she can’t offer you some clarification on the facts of the matter.”
“You’re lying,” I growl, putting more weight on his chest.
Eoin coughs out a laugh. “To what end? Do what you have to,” he adds, “but remember, in the words of Oscar Wilde, The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” He laughs and laughs and…
I flip the blade back up and, holding it like a machete, swipe it down with all my strength. The enchanted knife cuts clean through Eoin’s neck, blooding gurgling and spurting, shooting onto my leggings, my sweatshirt, my skin.
My breath is ragged, coming in gasps. Every inch of my body shakes. I can’t believe what I’ve done. Stepping back from the now lifeless body, I lean up against the air conditioning machinery and try to keep from passing out. It had to be done. It had to. I repeat it again and again, hoping to convince myself it is the truth.
Eoin’s headless body shifts on the ground. The blood has already stopped flowing and energy begins to rise up from inside of him, as black as ever, threatening to pull me into the vortex it creates. His dark magic pours out of him in a steady onyx-colored stream from inside of which rises the screams and cries of people in agony. His body begins to cave in on itself until it becomes a sort of permanent shadow. I drop down and curl into a ball, wrapping my arms over my head to protect myself from the continuing onslaught of magic and mayhem.
The darkness continues rising into the air, spreading itself out like a black cloud over the building, over Astoria. As it dissipates and the energy begins to wane, I realize that what I thought was me shaking with terror is actually the building.
The air conditioning unit creaks with a metallic grating sound and gravel shifts around me. A crack breaks open on the ledge of the building and splinters downward, onto the roof, opening a wide gash.
I jump to my feet. Lucas is inside. People are in the basement. I have to get everyone out of here before this place implodes. Running for the stairs, I throw a quick look back over my shoulder. Eoin is gone, only a dark stain left in his place. Thoughts of Eoin and his story need to wait because the shaking is getting worse by the second.
I throw open the door and charge down the stairs, pulling to a stop at the bottom. Who to check on first? This crazy magic world, this is Lucas’ thing. He has to know what to do, doesn’t he? I try reaching him through our bond, but I’m too freaked out to concentrate and he is probably too busy to listen for me.
Without hearing his words, I know what he would say. This is my responsibility. But those people in the basement? Just stupid kids who got tricked or innocent victims grabbed up off the street. I have to let them out first. Not to mention the fact that Antonio is still down there. There isn’t much decision making required.
I find the freight elevator, but the building is shaking so much I picture it crashing all the way down, and decide against it. I shove through the door to the stairs and continue down, down, down until I can’t go any further.
Water pours down from the pipes in the corridor now. Giant puddles are starting to form on the concrete floor. I splash through them, running as fast as I can toward the cells. It was dark down here the first time, and it seems even darker now. I hone in on the feelings of the humans trapped in the dark and the water and the terrifying shaking. Their auras are slashed through with panic, desperation, hopelessness. It drives me to run faster, flying around the turn, through the room where we fought the drones.
The metal door flies open with the barest jolt of energy. Inside, the kids who were so out of it before are on their feet crying, shivering, shouting. Everyone is up against the bars pulling and pushing and wasting energy on something they will never be able to open on their own.
“Antonio!” I shout, catching sight of him. He stands up against his cell looking for the same way out as everyone else.
“Tristan,” he cries. “You came for me. Nick - is he…”
“He’s at the shop firing up the espresso machine - and waiting for you. Back up.”
“But how…” he starts to ask. I don’t have time for explanations and I don’t have time to hide what I am about to do.
“Antonio, back against the wall.”
He does what I say and I grip the bars. Pushing up a surge of magic, I rip the door open. Antonio’s eyes go wide, but he wants out more than he wants an explanation.
“Give me a second,” I tell him. “I need to get the others. I’ll lead you guys to the exit, then I need to go find Lucas. Run to the shop. Take everyone with you. My aunt will deal with them until I get there.”
Antonio nods and balances himself against the wall just as it opens up, a gash through the concrete blocks stretch down the wall and along the floor. I think of Lucas upstairs and try to connect with him again. The emptiness, the feeling that we aren’t bound is even more terrifying than this building falling down around me.
Instead of wasting time pulling the individual doors open, I scream at everyone to keep away from the bars and send a shot of electricity along the length. The doors hang crookedly from their hinges, each one open.
The kids inside step out, disoriented, afraid, sick, and dirty, Jannelis among them. She hangs her head without looking at me.
“You guys are going to be OK now,” I try to assure them. “Once we get upstairs, Antonio here is going to lead you to a safe place, far from here. The danger is almost over but we have to get out of here, so move it.”
And they do, running and falling and getting up and running again, up the stairs to the first floor, a place I haven’t visited. It is a wide open space like the second floor, a warehouse. Wires dangle from the ceiling, swaying, and bits of insulation float to the floor. A light fixture crashes in a far corner echoing in the empty space.
“Where’s the door?” Antonio asks from the center of the room where we are gathered.
Shit. He’s right. This place is ginormous. I look from one end to the other and give up, telling my powers to lead me. I know there was a door here before, the one with the surveillance camera. Eoin probably pulled some special mumbo jumbo to seal us in before I killed him.
Windows, then. I don’t need the door.
“Windows,” I shout at him.
We all rush forward. The windows are only about five feet off the ground, easy enough to get through, especially with a little magic boost. I wrench the gate off one and the glass explodes outwards. Maybe not the best thing for all these people without shoes, but it beats being crushed in a pile of rubble four floors thick.
“Come on,” Antonio shouts, gesturing for the others to move forward.
He laces his fingers together and boosts each one out one after the other. He could have gone first. I would have encouraged him to go first, but Antonio hangs back until every last person is safely outside. I suddenly see what Nick loves about this guy.
“You going to be OK?” he asks.
A column splits in half and crashes to the floor.
“I’ll give it a shot,” I tell him. “Besides, I have to tell Nick how brave you were in the middle of all this chaos.”
“See you on the other side,” he says, grinning. Antonio hoists himself up and out and, hopefully, as far away from here as possible.
Lucas. I call his name, reaching out through the chaos. Nothing. It’s not just that I can’t hear him, I don’t feel him. It is an emptiness like I’ve never known before, like a part of me is missing.
I take off running again, hurdling debris and cavernous cracks. Flinging open the door to the stairs, I grab both of the railings and steady myself, running like the NYC varsity cross country champion I am. I’m not completely sure which floor we were on, but I remember descending and think it was three.
The door Eoin used is open, a body in front of it. My heart stops for a second, long enough for me to figure out that it isn’t Lucas. I step over the drone and head into complete pandemonium.
Since I blew out the windows earlier, gusts of freezing cold air rush into the room, sending debris flying around the room. There are bodies everywhere, blood everywhere. Lucas has hacked his way through at least two dozen drones. One lies at my feet, twitching. I touch him with my foot and put him out of his misery.
Dead bodies everywhere, but no Lucas. If he had left, he would have come to find me and since he knew where I was headed, we should have met up. My heart pounds and the magic thrums through my body.
Come on, Lucas. Answer me. As your queen, I command you to answer. It sounds just like the kind of lame medieval language he would respond to.
Shit, Lucas, I’m not kidding. You need to answer me. Less Middle Ages, more me.
Still not a clue.
A corner of the wall cracks open wide and plaster tumbles into the room.
I begin grabbing bodies, looking under them, flipping them over, checking to make sure I just can’t see that Lucas is hurt somewhere in here. I lift each one and as I reject more and more, I really start to panic.
I reach down and use my new and improved strength to pick up one guy in each hand, grabbing one by the hoodie and the other by his flannel shirt. I toss them aside and there, on the floor, is the one thing, among all of the terrible things that I have seen today, that pushes me over the edge. Lucas.
He’s lying face down in a puddle of blood and I let out a wail that surprises even me. I turn him over. Lucas’ eyes are closed, his face slack. The side of his skull is smashed in. I pull him against my chest and hug him as hard as I can, hoping that I can somehow squeeze the life back into him.
“No,” I sob over and over again. “Please, Lucas. You can’t. I,” I scream out in agony. “I ditched you. I told you I wouldn’t and I left you here to fight on your own. Why?” I cry, “Why didn’t you let me stay with you?”
As tight as I squeeze, though, I’m not able to hug the life back into him. I lower Lucas to the floor and kneel over him. There has to be a way to fix this. There has to be. Lucas is the first guy, other than Nick, that I have ever trusted. How can I just let that end?
The healing spell. I lay my hands against the wound in Lucas’ head and speak the words of the spell quickly and carefully. I etch the symbols against his skin. I say the words again. I repeat the symbols. I try one more time, casting the spell in words and symbols. He does not move.
An inner wall collapses, blocking the door. But I am not leaving here without Lucas. I stare at the floor, thinking, holding one of Lucas’ hands between my own. A kiss, I think. How about a kiss? All this stuff is complete fairy tale bullshit, isn’t it? Maybe the fairy tale way of bringing someone back to life will work here. I lean over and press my lips to his, hoping he can feel how much I want him to live, how much I need him to live. His lips stay cold and motionless.
A portion of the floor buckles and falls to the level below. I can’t stay in here much longer but I’m not going to leave Lucas to be crushed, either. I tug him back up to a sitting position and push magic throughout my body, enough to be sure I will be able to pull him, and the eighty pounds he has on me, to a standing position.
Something clatters beneath his body. It is a dagger with a rounded pommel, a pommel covered in blood. Tears blur my vision for a minute as a picture of Lucas, fighting to keep me safe, to keep all the good guys safe, forms in my head. A drone must have snuck up on him while he was fighting another and blindsided him.
I wonder what he thought as the life flowed out of him, if he even had time to think anything at all. I remember what he said about asking to end his cycle as a Watcher. But I’m alive, I want to shout at him, and you should be here with me. I pick up the knife and hurl it across the room.
A knife. An idea prickles along my neck. I lay Lucas gently back against the remnants of the floor. I used Lucas’ blood to make me stronger. But I am infinitely more powerful than he is and my blood is what holds my magic. My blood is, after all, what this whole thing has been about.
I push up Lucas’ sleeve revealing the skin of his inner forearm. I reach under my shirt and grab Gae Buidhe. This had better be a decent cut with a decent amount of blood. No dribble is going to bring someone back to life.
I slice his arm. The blood barely flows now that he is dead, but the skin is open. Hurrying, I push up my own sleeve and slice deep, knowing that a cut from Gae Buidhe can’t kill me, its owner. Blood pours out. I angle my arm over his and let the blood flow - and flow and flow - while reciting the words of the healing spell.
At first, the only thing I notice is a dizzy sensation that is no doubt part blood loss, part panic. Lucas is getting colder by the second, his lips taking on a bluish tint. The cut on my arm starts to heal over.
The building is making a very not good creaking noise that suggests I have a few more minutes before I’m trapped in here. I’ve failed. Lucas is dead. Nana is dead. Eoin is dead, too, but in the scheme of things, that seems like a small consolation.
I swipe at my face with my sleeve, wiping away tears and snot and get ready to pick up Lucas. And then I see something I have never seen on him before. It is faint at first, really just wisps of pastel shades so light they are like the smoke trail from a blown out candle. The colors are a mix, a blend of all of the emotions I have ever observed in a person - love and hate, peace and anxiety. There is even a shot of hormone, of attraction. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It is his aura.
“Lucas?” I bend over him. “Lucas, can you hear me?”
His eyelids flutter and he takes a gasping breath, color rushing into his face. The gash on the side of his face closes over, the dent disappearing. If it weren’t for the sticky blood matting his hair, no one would even suspect he had been injured.
“What happened?” he whispers. I have never heard such beautiful words in my entire life.
“I saved your damn life, Watcher. That’s what happened.” But now I’m crying full blast so the snarkiness is somehow lost.
Lucas smiles, grimacing at the residual pain he feels. He pushes himself up onto his elbows.
“I was dead? Truly dead?”
I stop. I am ecstatic to have Lucas back with me, but what have I done? I’ve undone the natural order of things. I’ve brought the dead back to life. Maybe this isn’t right. Maybe this isn’t at all what he would have wanted.
“You were,” I croak.
He smiles at me. “Well done, Seeker. And the Ripper?”
“Is just a bad memory.”
The smile widens.
“And as much as I would love to hear you tell me how wonderful you think I am, we have about four minutes before this whole place comes down.”
“Ah. Yes. I hadn’t noticed - having been dead and all.”
“Again,” I point out.
I roll up from my knees to rest on my heels and put out a hand to help him up. Lucas reaches out and takes it, but instead of standing, he pulls me closer, his lips meeting mine. It is not cold, it is not without feeling. This kiss is everything written in Lucas’ aura and more. The energy of it is almost shocking. I bury my hands in his blood stained hair and kiss him back with only the minor fear that there is still snot on my face.
“Come on,” he says, breaking apart and pulling me to my feet.
The two of us take off running to the door in the wall. It is covered in heavy chunks of plaster and concrete. I gesture for Lucas to get behind me and smash it to bits with a decent dose of power. We shove our way through and head down the stairs.
The railings are coming detached from the walls, the stairs twisting and wrenching themselves away from their frame. There is a giant metallic crash somewhere up above and I wonder if it isn’t the air conditioning unit collapsing.
When we reach the first floor, I push through the front door and we scramble over cracks and debris. A light fixture tumbles down and I duck out of the way just in time.
“Where are we going?” Lucas asks.
“Window,” I shout over my shoulder.
And just like Antonio and the other kids, we climb up and out. I’m relieved to feel the sun and the cold air and to know that my job in there is done - at least for now. Lucas and I run a block down then stop to watch as the building gives a final shudder and collapses with a loud roar and a massive cloud of dust.
Lucas stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“You did it,” he said. “I knew you could, but, what a feat.”
“I didn’t do that,” I explain.
“I was referring to the drones, to Eoin. And then to have the presence of mind to rescue your friends.”
I rest my head back against his chest. “I’m power mad, not evil.” Not yet, anyway, at least according to Eoin’s theory. “We have a lot to talk about, Lucas.” Like the fact that I brought him back to life and the not revolting development where are touching each other. “But I have to get back and help Miranda and see what’s going on with everyone else. I feel like a giant brain scrubbing of these events is the only thing that will keep those kids from losing their minds or telling everyone they know and sounding nuts.”
“Of course,” Lucas answers. “But Tristan…”
I turn to face him and he doesn’t let go meaning we are pressed up against one another way tight. I could get used to this.
“I…”
He breaks off again looking embarrassed.
“Spit it out,” I encourage.
“It appears I can see your aura. I believe when you transferred your blood to me, I inherited some of your powers.”
“Oh?” Oh. What embarrassing thing am I currently demonstrating? I mean being this close to him is definitely having an effect. He can’t understand how to read the aura yet, can he? I can feel my face getting hot, another betrayal by my emotions.
“Really,” I continue. “Well, then you should know that Seekers try not to read one another’s auras. It’s like eavesdropping, you know? Listening in on something private. Also, just so you know, you aren’t hiding your aura anymore.”
“Ah,” he says, smiling, “then I assume you know what I’m feeling?” I see the cloud of bright orange, mingled with red, and tones of pale blue. Hormone, affection, contentedness.
I shrug. “I assume it’s the same as mine. Come on, Watcher. We still have a mess to straighten out.”
Comments
Post a Comment