“Even if you got up there, over the house, in the air,” Liz said, her voice rough and hoarse, “even if thehedgeheld your weight and didn’t fry you like bacon, you aren’t a witch. You can’t unravel the working.”
“Hell,” her twin said, “I don’t thinkwecould.”
“Thehedgewon’t hold more than two hundred pounds,” Daddy said.
“I can do it,” Angie said.
“No, Angie. You can’t,” Liz said.
“That isn’t happening,” Daddy agreed.
“In a moment of panic,” Edmund said, “Angelina merged all of these energies. I fear that if this temporal deactivation explodes, time-warped-space and broken death magics might destroy the surrounding area. Might perhaps result in worse consequences.”
Liz cursed. Daddy looked mad.
Angie said, “Edmund can carry me up thehedge. I can pull the threads through and unravel all but the last strands. Then we can slide back down with me holding them. On the ground, I can pull them. Thehedgeand the temporal thing should fall.” She tilted her head, watching her family, her red-gold curls sliding to the side.
Edmund said, “You figured that out on your own?”
She sighed. “Somebody hadda. It’s my fault.”
“You didn’t do this on purpose, Angie Baby,” Cia said. “If your mama hadn’t drawn on the death magics, they wouldn’t have been there to get tangled up in your shield.”
“If Mama hadn’t used them, then EJ and me woulda watched Mama and Daddy die.”
Daddy sucked in a horrified breath.
Edmund said, “As viewed from a military perspective rather than a personal one, Angie is correct. It will take all of us to stop this, and only Angelina can untangle the energies.”
Daddy started to argue, but he stopped, staring at Edmund. “You swore to protect my family.”
“Even to my undeath. Yes.”
Cia said, “Angie needs food and water first.” She brought a bottle of water and a banana from her car, along with EJ’s blanket. Angie ate and drank and went behind the tree where EJ had peed. When she was done, Edmund held out a hand and Angie placed her small, cold one into his.
—
Edmund adjusted Angie on his back, wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. “Hang on tightly.” She did. It was a good thing Mithrans didn’t need to breathe. He stepped back several yards, toed off his ruined shoes, reached for the gift of speed that was part of his nature, and raced at thehedge. Displaced air popped. Toes digging into the frozen energies, he sped up the side of thehedge. At the top of the massive ward, he stopped and swung Angie off his back, sitting her on the slightly curved dome, the blanket around her.
Wide-eyed, she said, “Can we run like that when I’m not scared and cold?”
He chuckled. “If we succeed, Angelina, I will take you on a full moon run. For now, can you untangle the magics?”
She pressed her fingers against the top of the ward where the energies of the originalhedgehad been drawn up like a balloon and sealed. She pressed through the energies, her tiny fingers weaving, or perhaps unweaving. She mimed pulling a strand up and up and had to stand to continue. He steadied her to keep her from slipping, and still she pulled the invisible energy strand through the small opening she had made. She tossed it and began another.
An hour passed.
He had to restrain himself from looking toward the east. There was no sun protection here and though he would give his life for the Everharts, to burn up in front of Angie might scar her. Undoubtedly, it would be painful for him as well.
Another hour passed and sunrise had begun to tint the sky gray when Angelina sat back from the opening, leaning against his legs in exhaustion. She held her hands in front of her, as if she held reins, and he saw flashes of light and pulses of power in them, though there was nothing tangible to focus on.
“I’m done,” she said. “Being an Everhart is hard.”
“Why is that?”
“We have to save the world sometimes. Like Ant Jane.”
“Ah. That is indeed a heavy burden. Do you have the strands you want?”
