He grabbed his pistol from the ground, climbed unsteadily to his feet, battling against the weight of the darkness in his veins as he closed the distance.
The guard raised his rifle, turning it on him, but Felix didn’t waver. He took aim at August’s outstretched hand and fired.
Two gunshots cracked the air, nearly simultaneous.
August’s control returned all at once. Then came the pain, sharp and white-hot. He folded forward, cradling the injured hand as blood streamed from the place where his finger should’ve been. He blinked hard, struggling to stay upright.
Someone shouted Felix’s name.
Sebastian snatched something from the ground, then turned and ran. Lark sprang to her feet, fury contorting her face as she threw up a handful of lead balls and flung them out, striking one of the guards.
Sebastian and the others were already gone.
August swayed, disoriented and nauseous. His entire world felt off balance, and he searched desperately for something to hold onto. For something to keep him from spiraling.
For Felix.
His eyes slid across the square, catching on Marlow hunched over a body on the ground.
Gideon, August remembered. He’d killed Gideon. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look at the damage he’d caused. But it wasn’t Gideon’s body beside her.
No.
Marlow pressed her hands against the sides of Felix’s head, her eyes glowing. She folded forward to touch her forehead to his, and her lips moved quickly as she spoke to him.
He’d hurt Felix. Given the darkness back. But it would be fine. He could fix it.
He called on his magic as he rushed forward.
There was so much blood. It wasn’t Felix’s. It couldn’t be. The darkness couldn’t have caused this.
August dropped beside him, knees hitting the stones hard.
No no no.
Felix’s blue eyes stared blankly at the grey sky. Blood threaded through his light hair from the dark hole in his temple.
A ragged sob tore out of Marlow. Her body shook as she pressed her hands to his chest, trying to heal him again. But there was nothing to heal. He was already gone.
Her hands curled into fists, slamming into his chest over and over.
Felix was dead.
August felt himself shattering.
He couldn’t lose Felix. Not now. He couldn’t.
He squeezed his eyes shut, met by the violent stream of freshly returned memories.
The pain of the scalpel down his forearm. The warm spread of blood.
Too much.
The ache of drawing in power from the veil when his entire body was wracked with exhaustion.
“Once more,Mo Aesling.”
Too much.
