“Unhand me, you brute.” Erick’s voice vibrated above us. “I was the Lawsons’ captive! I had nothing to do with any of this.”
Xan squeezed my shoulder again and boosted himself out of the Alun, leaving me alone with my dead brother. I looked down at Emil, whom I’d just beaten to death, and scrubbed my face. Pain radiated from my bloody, broken hands. I pressed my ruined palms flat, drinking the pain. No guilt. No more rage. Just relief—raw and shocking.
I wasn’t him.
And I never would be.
I dragged a ragged breath in and out. A very similar sentiment, uttered by Xan in this very space, echoed. Maybe I wasn’t as alone as I felt. I took two shaky breaths, the taste of blood still in my mouth, then forced myself up through the hatch.
What should have been fresh air grew heavy, while the sickly smell of roses mixed with the hint of gore clinging to my clothing. I swallowed down bile. The magic that usually ebbed and flowed through the world swirled in the same direction.
Rowan had Erick physically pinned to the wall just before The Great Hall and had encased his hands in stone. Enforcers guarded the exit. I wanted to say our scuffle in the Alun had disrupted whatever shield Erick created, but I knew that was wrong. Whatever was pulling magic in one direction had done that. I had a vague memory of Xan saying the shield was down.
My heart raced as a feeling of wrongness sank into my bones.
“I can prove it, Architect,” Erick added. “I don’t have the power or skill to make a portal. Emil created the initial one in Cayden’s dorm.” Erick turned to me, only to find me standing shoulder to shoulder with the Architect, covered in blood. He blanched. “But I’m sure that’s not Cayden’s fault.”
Erick’s expression flipped so fast it was whiplash—guilt to innocence in a blink.
“Cayden’s been busy with you, I presume,” he continued. “And I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cayden and I have been working together on projects, you see.”
My jaw dropped. Erick had so clearly been a part of this, we’d even called the invaders Erick’s forces. The ground shook, and a boom rattled my eardrums.
Xan sliced his hand through the air. “Erick, right now, I don’t have time for this. But you are right. I would never want to upset the families of London.” He gritted his teeth, and Erick grinnedtriumphantly. “Until we know all of Emil’s men are gone, we will keep you close, and we will protect you as befits your family.”
Erick’s smile fell while Xan kept his poker face even. I narrowed my eyes. Xan was very, very good.
Heat detonated in my chest. Quinn’s emotions slammed into me so hard my knees buckled. Her heart beat with adrenaline, which turned to liquid love. Only to transition into fear, which immediately bled into determination. It left me dizzy, and I wasn’t the one experiencing the emotions.
I pressed my hand to my heart. Suddenly, she wasn’t in The Rooster anymore but standing in the courtyard. Fear and need pulled at her equally. One step at a time, she walked closer to us.
The ground shook.
Xan, Rowan, and I all looked at each other at the same time. Professor Holiday, or at least his monster, was still trampling the castle. We didn’t speak; the three of us bolted, Rowan pulling Erick along.
My only reason to live had stepped out of safety and into the heart of something I couldn’t control.
Chapter 8
Quinn
ProfessorHoliday’smonstrosityloomedin the arch of The Great Hall, a patchwork horror of cables, meat, and metal. This time, it wasn’t harmlessly lying on a table, half hidden by the dark; it teetered on two lumpy legs of cloth and massive cables bound with strips of metal. Rotting meat and wood twisted together in the semblance of a torso while two arms covered in furs, plastics, and things I couldn’t identify pinwheeled around its body. One arm crashed into the roof of The Great Hall, and not for the first time, based on the dents already buckling the top floor.
Professor Holiday’s nails-on-chalkboard cackling mixed with the static and booms of falling rock. The horror’s momentum made it continue turning until it faced me and wobbled. The laughter turned into a screech. I hadn’t noticed Professor Holiday’s perch on his monster's shoulder, but he gripped the too-short railing he’d fashioned for himself. He scowled before his gaze dropped to me, and a creepy grin filled his skeletal face.
My heart raced. Every fiber of me screamed to run, yet my magic dragged me forward.
The world spun. I was a monster, like Chancellor Morgen, Winston, and Professor Holiday. I’d been alive before the tremors, though magic hadn’t twisted me like the chancellor or the dog shifter. Was that why I moved closer? Because deep down, I wasn’t fighting him, but recognizing myself in him?
I hated that thought, but it didn’t stop my steps.
Movement between the monstrosity’s legs pulled my attention. Brit, with Joe on her heels, veered left, staying well out of the creature's range. One of her arms was bound to her chest. The last image of Brit broken under Horax punched through me, raw and blinding, and I screamed her name.
My friend didn’t stop until she slammed into me. I held on to her tightly as tears ran down both our faces. After everything with Alex, being kidnapped by the Lawsons had been buried under my pile of stuff to deal with later. For now, it needed to stay there.
I pulled away from Brit and scrubbed my eyes. “Go back inside. I’ve got this.”
“Bullshite.” Brit spat on the ground. “All those men circling you, and I find you all alone in a storm of magic with that thing.” She jerked her thumb toward the monster. “I’m not moving an inch.”
