15
Iwatch as the light disappears from Marx’s dark brown eyes. Eyes that were filled with laughter and teasing less than thirty minutes ago. Eyes that have continually offered me a warm look of friendship and loyalty since the first time I met him. Eyes that I know with excruciating certainty will never look at any of us again.
Anguish sears through me as I watch Marx’s body fall lifeless to the ground. I get my magic walls back up around the others just as the tether between Rogan and me ignites with heartbreak and pain. I can’t see him, but I know Rogan’s watching his friend fall right before his very eyes.
I was too late.
A soul-shattering lament fills the air, and tears spill down my cheeks as the man I love shatters with loss. I can’t breathe, as the shock of what just happened tightens around my chest like a vise. There’s a brutal pull on my magic as Rogan taps into more power than just his own, but I do nothing to stop him.
He can drain me dry if it helps him avenge the horror of what just happened. It’s the least I can do after fucking up so heinously. I don’t know how I’m ever going to forgive myself, let alone ask Rogan to forgive me. Grief claws at my soul, but I try to shove it away. We need to get out of here, or next it will be Prek, and after he’s just another body lying on this destroyed field, the High Council will test how many times Elon, Rogan, and I can die, and just how painfully, before one of us gives them anything they want to make it stop.
I feel sick at the thought, and desperation drives me to push back up on my feet. I cry out as I try to put weight on my wounded leg. It hurts like a bitch, but I can at least hobble. Order members slam against my magic-made barriers, their faces contorted in rage and hate as they fight and fail to break through and kill me.
Anger once again begins to boil in my blood, and I scream with violent and vicious fury before shoving feral untamed magic out at every enemy in my way. I limp and watch as they begin to melt from the inside out. I don’t know if I’m attacking their bones or their blood or both, I just know I want them dead so I can get to the others and we can run.
Screams and pain dance all around me, but all I can see and feel is Rogan fighting savagely as he tries to purge the grief and rage he’s drowning in right now. His green eyes are locked on the Contegomancer, his face promising pain and retribution as the evil High Council member watches back arrogantly from the top of the little hill he’s perched on. His smirk is taunting, and I read his lips as he orders the soldiers next to him to reload and fire at will.
Rogan’s fighting to get to the High Council member, shattering bones and spilling blood as he slowly makes his way closer. I can feel the Contegomancer focus all his acidic power on Rogan’s sluggish advance. I want to scream. I want to rage and avenge Marx. I want to rip every Order member on this field apart with my bare hands, but we need to go. We need to survive. We need to run and prepare so the next time we go head-to-head with the High Council, we crush them once and for all.
I turn, frantically searching for Elon and Prek. I need to get to them and then convince Rogan to get to us so we can get the fuck out of here. More bullets fill the air all around me, ricocheting off my barriers. Instinctively I duck, terrified that somehow a shot will break through like the one that’s currently buried in my thigh. Order members go down all around me, and disgust fills me at the careless waste of life.
It’s revoltingly clear that the High Council is corrupt beyond hope, but each and every one of the soldiers who are shooting at their own people without question or hesitation deserves to rot in fucking hell. I spot Prek, and my heart leaps until I see that he’s carrying Elon’s limp body. I think Prek is hurt; he seems to be favoring his right side as he drags Elon closer to the ley line running through the field and parking lot.
I start limping for them, fear burning through me as I make my way, and I steal back some of the magic Rogan is syphoning from me and reinforce the barriers around Prek and Elon. I can’t tell if Elon is dead or just unconscious, either way it reinforces the driving need I feel to escape as soon as possible.
“Rogan,”I shout in my mind, hoping it somehow gets his attention through the tether, but he doesn’t look my way. I shove more of the panic hammering through me at him, but I must weaken my shields when I redirect the magic, because the next thing I know, I’m spinning from the impact of a bullet in my side.
Fire fills my veins as the bullet tears through my stomach and out through my back. A feral scream crawls out of my throat as a new wave of pain assaults me. I press my palms to the wound, and dark red blood slips through the seam of my fingers, all too quickly darkening the front of my shirt and pants. Surprise stifles my thoughts, and I try to shake away the lethargy that’s trying to set in.
All I see is bodies. Everywhere. The sun, still hidden in the clouds, dips lower in the sky, and the trees surrounding us blanket the lost with their shadows. Too many vacant glassy eyes stare off at nothing, while others lie on the ground, writhing in pain, injured and calling out for help or their loved ones. Order members run around trying to provide medical assistance to their friends and team members, while other soldiers stay focused on the fact that they’re still supposed to be attacking us. It’s mass confusion, loss, and bloodshed that will taint this once peaceful place forever.
Tears slip out of my eyes as I look away, not wanting to see the carnage anymore. Rogan’s moss-green gaze finally finds mine, and I stagger a little, struggling to stay on my feet. Magic drains out of me, and I fight to call it back, mentally putting a stopper on my source so my protective barriers don’t get any weaker. My vision tunnels and then focuses as I try to breathe through the hurt and fear pulsing out of me and dripping to the ground.
Rogan’s face crumples with alarm, and he abandons his efforts to get to the High Council member and turns to come to me. In the distance, over his shoulder, I see the Contegomancer’s face contort with fury, and he strides off his hill and moves into the fray. Order members rush to get out of his way, parting like a school of fish for a shark.
I refocus my efforts to get to Prek. Elon still isn’t moving, and I suspect he’s been mortally wounded. My heart clenches at that thought, but he’s come back twice now, and I have to believe he will a third time. Prek is almost to where the parking lot pavement meets the field, which is the exact angle the large ley line runs. He turns to see me hobbling after him, and I can see the debate in his eyes, about putting Elon down to come get me.
“Don’t you dare,” I yell at him.
I don’t know if he heard me or just read the manic look in my eye screaming for him to hang onto Rogan’s brother at all costs. Gusts of wind start to blow Order members away. Out of nowhere, a sheet of icicles flies through the air like daggers, digging into some witches’ barriers or into the witches themselves if their wards are cracked. I realize that Prek is trying to clear a path for me, his elemental magic strong and relieving. I tamp down on the spark of magic envy that ignites in me as another burst of wind allows me to close the distance.
“Thank fuck,” Prek sighs as he runs his eyes over me, his gaze fixing on both of my wounds before lifting back up to my face. “Elon was shot through the neck. He’s dead, but he’ll come back, right?” Prek demands, his tone frenzied and panicked.
I reach out and squeeze his shoulder, offering him a comforting look that I’m pretty sure looks more like a grimace. “He’ll come back. Just hold on to him until he does, okay? Your only job from here on out is to watch over him until he’s awake again.”
Order members surround us, and they renew their attack, sensing that we’re within arm’s reach of escape. Different branches of magic bombard us, but it’s easier to strengthen the one shield now protecting three of us than it was to reinforce separate shields for everyone.
I swallow down the relief that streaks through me now that the three of us are back together again. I want to exalt the fact that I made it here, but we’re not nearly out of the woods yet. I look behind me to find Rogan knocking Order members out of his way. Further back behind him, the High Council member is doing the same.
“Can you feel the line, Prek?” I ask, my voice frantic as I watch Rogan pushing to get to us. “I can keep you protected while you apparate the both of you out of here. Is there somewhere safe you can lay low for a bit?”
Prek starts to argue with me, loading his mouth with all the reasons he shouldn’t leave us behind, but I silence him with a glare. “Prek, if Rogan and I can’t get away, you and Elon will need to get us out. Youhaveto go. Is there somewhere safe you can think of? Or a way you can get back to Rogan’s house? You’d be safe there.”
My gaze pleads for him to listen, and his eyes bounce back and forth between mine for a moment before I see resignation settle into them. He scrubs at his face with a shaky hand and repositions his fireman hold on Elon.
“Yes, I have somewhere we can hide out until we can figure out where to meet,” he tells me, and I nod my head, eager to get him and Elon out of here. “You’re a good witch, Lennox,” he tells me somberly, and I shake my head at him.
“No goodbyes, Prek, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I tease. My smile drops too quickly as battle cries and wounded shouts seem to grow louder. “Tell me when you’re ready. I’ll drive them back, and you focus on getting the hell out of here,” I instruct, and he nods, closing his eyes and pulling in a deep breath.
