A man who can only be Natalie’s dad stands in the center, staring at us. He’s skeletal, his cheeks gaunt, his pale skin covered in scars and scabs, hisdark hair and beard long and matted. He’s wearing a dirty blue hospital gown.
The worst part is his hands—they’re fully engulfed in metal casings, presumably forcing them to stay balled into fists so he can’t do earth magic to get out.
My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat. Holy shit, has he been like this for several months? This is actual torture.
“Am I dead?” he grunts, the sound rough and broken.
“No. It’s us, Dad.” Sky’s voice cracks. Her hands fly to the bars, white-knuckled and trembling. All her usual bravado, that shield she maintains that makes her seem invincible, shatters as tears spill down her cheeks. “We’re getting you out.”
Natalie goes rigid beside me. Her breath catches, then stops altogether. Her throat works as she tries to speak, her dark eyes fixed on her father’s broken body.
I reach out and take her hand, trying to offer support in any way I can. I can’t imagine what she must be feeling to see him like this. This is the man who raised her after her mother was killed by Sophia Madsen, the parent she’s spent weeks searching for since we found out he’d been abducted.
“Dad,” she finally whispers, barely audible.
Slowly, recognition floods his hollow face. “Nat? Sky?” His voice cracks, and he stumbles forward. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous—”
“We’re not leaving without you,” Natalie says fiercely.
Sky opens her fists to sever the bars with magic. Sparks ricochet like angry fireflies, and she flinches. “What—no!”
“Here.” Natalie lets go of my hand to try as well. Both of them sweep their palms over the bars, but it only sends more sparks flying.
The others search for a way in, scouring for weaknesses or keys.
“She’s enchanted it,” Sky snarls.
I push between them. “Let me.”
Everyone watches as I draw back my fist, the gauntlet glinting in the dim light, and punch the lock as hard as I can.
The lock shatters like cheap plastic, my fist breaking through it.
“Dang,” Neil murmurs.
“Move fast.” I kick the door, which opens with a banshee-like creak.
Sky and Natalie surge into the cell, taking their father’s arms.
Sky reaches for his metal-encased hand. “How do we get these off?”
My skin is so itchy that I can’t stand still. I shake out my hands and shift from foot to foot, trying to ignore the sensation of being stabbed with thousands of needles. My throat feels like it’s full of cotton balls—like my airway is starting to constrict.
Breathe. Hold on another minute.
I can’t panic and be a liability. This is exactly what everyone in the coven expects—for me to be a weak link. But I didn’t come this far to let Fiona be right.
Natalie’s gaze snaps to me, catching my discomfort. Her free hand jerks toward the vials in her inner pocket. “We’ll deal with his restraints in the van. Let’s move.”
We leave the cell, their dad supported between them. The world swims around me as I follow, tripping over my own feet.
“When was the last time the Madsens were here?” Natalie asks.
“This morning.” Their dad’s words rasp out between labored breaths. “Overheard them saying they were going to check out an anomaly. Bio magic. Sophia’s cocky enough to think she can harness it.”
Natalie’s eyes meet mine, maybe thinking the same thing: we aren’t surewhatSophia is capable of. And we need that bio magic ourselves, fifty-six times over.
We reach the top of the stairs, where Céline is still passionately reminiscing.
