“I’m no good to anyone locked away.”
He steps forward, and Veda rocks back, looking over her shoulder. People are passing, none the wiser about what’s happening. She pulls out her phone, careful to keep it at her side.
“The Botanist knows you’re here. They’ve seen you.” Truth makes a wounded noise escape him. “They know I talked to you. They know what you know. Veda, you need to see. To remember. It reminded you of home. Their faces lie ...”
Veda doesn’t move. “Who are they?”
His ticking time bomb explodes.
Smoky gray power rushes from him, tearing violently in every direction, burning like physical touch. There’s something wrong about it. Fractured. It makes Veda nauseous. If this is what being Sensitive is like, she doesn’t want it. The wind blows in an unnatural direction, wrapping around them. Mist rises from the grass. The concrete melts and bubbles. Her body feels heavy, veins filled with lead.
In the aftermath, his eyes are normal and clear yet filled with terror. He’s having a moment of clarity when he whispers, “Run.”
Veda doesn’t need to be told twice. Stumbling, gripping her phone, she runs like the earth is threatening to drag her into the molten depths. The force with which she slams into the invisible curtain sends her sprawling. Her amulet flashes with her dismantling charm, ripping a hole through to the other side. Veda runs, but the lack of sound stuns her into turning around.
Everett is walking toward her, each step a glide. His eyes, bloodred once more, glow in the dusky light.
“Consisto.”
The spell works as intended, stopping her in place. Its force drives Veda to her knees, her amulet glowing in a desperate bid to protecther. It won’t be enough. She has to move. There’s no spell to neutralize magic, but Veda tries something anyway, focusing everything on Everett. Her amulet glows brighter, the air shifting around her.
She screams for help the moment she’s free.
Everett stumbles and drops to his knees, his veins glowing red.
Something dangerous wants out.
Heart hammering in her chest, Veda takes off. Knowing she isn’t fast enough, she hides in the shadows between two closed shops. Each breath she takes is done with intention. To keep silent. To think. Trembling fingers dial Gabriel’s number. She curses under her breath when it goes to voicemail. She tries Francisco. Then Peter. No one answers. Veda calls Gabriel again but keeps the message recording while she scans her surroundings for a landmark.
“Main and Second Avenue. Everett is here,” she manages to whisper before ending the voicemail. With bated breath, she watches Everett stalk by.
Veda closes her eyes and counts, waiting long enough for him to be gone before deciding to make a move. It’s now or never. Bolting from her hiding spot seems like a good idea until she’s snatched off the ground, vision blurring even before she’s shoved against the brick wall. Everett clamps a hand over her mouth, eyes darting.
“Shh, the Botanist will hear you. They told me ...”
Veda hears nothing more.
A cold, sober clarity explodes behind her eyes. Beneath his hand, she shakily whispers, “You c-can’t tell the truth.”
Something changes. Everett’s concern twists, morphing until it’s almost amused, like a child caught in a lie.
“Oh, that’s right.” A giggle slips out. “He can’t.”
This is not Everett.
“It’s you.”
“In the flesh. Somewhat.” Their expression turns sinister. “Still don’t know who I am yet?”
Panic seizes Veda. The hand over her mouth clamps down harder, no longer trembling. Veda kicks, trying to knee the Botanist-as-Everett, clawing and clamoring at his clammy arms, desperate for freedom. But they are strong, radiating a power Veda has felt only once before: the last time she fought them. Her phone grows hot in her hand, bursting into flames, but she holds on, twisting and stretching, letting go only when the angle is right.
It lands in the grass. Fire roars to life, heat licking their feet as the blaze catches and spreads. It’s enough of a distraction for her assailant to let go. Veda hits the ground with a gasp, coughing as her knees buckle.
Pain turns the world white. Smoke fills the air. Flames roar in the wrong direction. Her amulet pulses against her skin, drawing in what magic it can to shield her and keep her attacker at bay, but it’s waning.
So is she.
“I underestimated you, Veda.” Their voice has changed. No longer Everett’s, it’s a chilling blend of several. “You were supposed to die that night, but I’m glad you didn’t, glad you’ve been holding that curse all these years.”
