“Enough. This is your last chance to stand down.”
The man ignored him, and although the storm raged, he seemed to lack the ability to wield the storm with precision. It was violent and chaotic, not refined. It was probably why they hadn’t been hit directly already.
The storm intensified as he turned his full attention to the detective. Now that his eyes landed on one target, Andrew could see his focus intensify—and maybe the pain of Juliette’s attack had calmed a little, giving the man some clarity and not just blind rage. He was going to strike Edmund.
Edmund thrust his palm forward, his lightning, clean, focused, and absolute. He met the Aetherian’s storm in a single, blinding collision, and for a heartbeat the world became nothing but light and sound as the two men battled one another. Lightning pushing against lightning.
Edmund leaned into his powers, the larger man pushing every ounce of strength he had into the thrust. His lightning crackled and then shot forward, hitting the Aetherian straight in the chest. The man slumped to the floor, and then a strange silence descended.
When Andrew looked around, the wind had died. The man lay crumpled on the flagstones, the storm snuffed out with him.
Andrew lifted his hand, palm glowing, and water whooshed onto the flaming table before it could spread any further.
He felt Isla trembling still, her eyes squeezed shut, her cheek pressed to the dirty floor.
“Hey, sweetheart, you’re safe now,” he whispered, though his heart was still hammering. He knew how close they’d come to losing everything.
At first she didn’t respond, then slowly, she lifted her head, tears streaking through the dust on her cheeks. He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“Andrew,” she sobbed. “Thank you for coming.” She threw her arms around him.
“I told you I’d always rescue you if I could,” he murmured into her gritty hair.
“I know,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “And I believed you.”
Andrew tightened his hold on her, feeling the weight of what she’d just said settle in his chest. She was beginning to understand—he was here for her, as long as she’d let him be, and he would never let her believe otherwise.
Chapter Twenty-Two
November 1st
Isla sat across from Harold, his sharp eyes studying her. She was alone in his office now; the others had already left. Earlier that morning, he had met with her, Andrew, Juliette, and Edmund, listening intently as they gave their account of the night before.
Edmund, ever efficient despite the dark shadows beneath his eyes, had also shared his findings. Somehow, between the chaos of the rescue and the early hours of dawn, he had managed to investigate the cottage where Isla had been held captive. It turned out to be part of Lady Beatrice Hatherleigh’s estate. How he’d found the time or energy, Isla couldn’t imagine.
According to Edmund, Lady Beatrice had beenhorrifiedto learn that one of her empty cottages had been used for such criminal purposes. She’d assured the university that she would immediately notify them of any unusual activity on her land in the future. A bouquet of hothouse flowers had already arrived at the college for Isla, accompanied by a delicate handwritten note expressing the lady’s “deep concern and sincerest wishes for a swift recovery.”
Harold drew in a slow breath, his expression suggesting he was about to raise a subject she wouldn’t like.
“Isla, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. It seems every time I say those words, matters only grow worse.”
Isla met his gaze. “I fear they may grow worse still if we can’t discover who’s behind all this.”
He nodded gravely. “Agreed. But if you’re determined to stay involved, I want you to improve your Aetheric skills. Your training—your control, your understanding—needs to be a priority.”
She exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders. “That I can do.”
“You know,” he said, his tone gentle, “itcanbe a beautiful thing—for Aqua Summoners to see the past lingering in the air, to have the ability to see old memories.”
Isla stiffened, the memory of the night before flashing through her mind: the violation of having someone pry through her private memories, twisting her past pain into a weapon.
Harold sensed her unease. “It was an unforgivable act, what they did,” he said quietly. “An intrusion no one should suffer. But don’t let that make you fear the gift itself—or others who share it.”
Did he think she would be hostile toward Aqua Summoners now? To Andrew? Or more hostile than she had been to him in the past? She thought of him then—his steadiness, the way he had shielded her with his own body. “I won’t,” she said softly. “Our gifts don’t define us—our actions do.”
Harold smiled. “A wise observation. You know, I met my wife through her abilities.”
Isla blinked, surprised. “Truly?”
