My heart beats faster with the need toconquerit, as instinct drives every other thought from my mind.
“Jack?” Amber’s throat bobs. Her face pales as I kneel at her side. “Jack, what are you doing?” I pluck the knife from the ground, desperate to expel the magic I’ve binged on, to release the pressure—a charge. The need, relentless and demanding, builds like an avalanche in my blood.
Amber’s eyes swim with tears as she pushes away from me, screaming with pain when her injured leg refuses to move. “Jack, listen to me!”
Névé’s magic beats against the walls of my chest, fighting to get out. I press the knife to Amber’s throat. “Julio and Fleur need us. They’re dying, Jack.” She closes her eyes, swallowing against the blade.
“Jack?”
I freeze, my head tipped toward the faint whisper behind me.
“Jack, where are you?” A ragged breath expels like a smaze from my lungs. I inhale the scent of lilies. Feel the ghost of their petals in my hand.
Fleur.
I drop the knife and lurch toward the sound of her voice. Dying magic shimmers on her breath.
I draw her into my lap and take her face in my hands, letting her absorb the burden of this power I can’t hold. I press my lips to her forehead, pushing all my strength into her, until I’m dizzy and I can’t sit up anymore. Julio coughs and sputters, still connected by the tips of his fingers. I fight to stay conscious as Amber drags herself toward him. She rests her head in the crook of his neck, her arm draped across his chest, as she collapses against him.
My eyes flutter closed, and through the current that runs through us, I feel four hearts beating.
32
And So We Remained
FLEUR
I wake as the sun breaches the ridge. At first, I think I must be dreaming when Julio, Amber, and Jack all begin to stir beside me. We’re alive. All of us. But how? How is it possible that Doug’s team didn’t find us and kill us during the night? The only explanation is that they didn’t come at all. Did they assume the bounty-hungry Seasons would be enough? Or did Lyon find some way to slow them down?
I glance over at the mud-streaked faces of my friends, grateful for small miracles. The earth is cold and damp beneath us, a film of fog rising over the wet ground beside the well. Amber and Julio limp wordlessly to the cabin to change their bloodied clothes. Jack and I survey the aftermath outside, his thoughts unreadable as he gathers our scattered weapons. His gaze repeatedly darts to the woods, searching for the Guards.
I jump when the screen door bounces shut. Julio comes out, scratching the healing hole in his chest. Amber hobbles behind him, carrying the last of our bags.
With hardly a word, we hike down the mountain, avoiding the only road in. At the bottom of the slope, Jack picks up a scent. We follow him to an abandoned Chevy sedan with Tennessee plates hidden under a pile of branches. The car’s unlocked, and I turn from the rush of stale air inside as Jack swings open the door. The upholstery smells strongly of the Autumn I killed. Jack flips down the visors and rummages under the seats, searching for the keys and finding them under a floor mat. I don’t want to take anything that belonged to the Autumn. Don’t want to spend the next few hours sitting inside his car, remembering what he did to Julio, or how he looked swinging from the tree, but we don’t have any other choice.
We dig the car out of its camouflage and push it onto the gravel road. Jack takes the first shift driving. Julio and Amber are still recovering from their injuries, and they’re soon curled into each other, asleep in the back seat, a tangle of healing bruises and scars.
No one’s said anything about the lingering film of frost that’s been clouding Jack’s eyes since we woke this morning. It’s chilling, an icy veil that masks his thoughts and renders the temperature inside the car almost unbearable. I reach for him, but his hand slides away before I can touch him.
My eyes prick with tears as the mile markers roll by. I watch the colorless sky for crows, wondering where our Handlers are now. If Woody got his leg treated. If Poppy’s recovering from her cold.
Jack sticks to the rural roads along the foothills, avoiding patrolled rest areas and highways with cameras. By the time we cross the state line into Tennessee, the frost has begun to fade from his eyes. Gaia’s spies are nowhere in sight over the small towns we pass through, and the more distance we put between us and the cabin, the more at ease he seems to feel.
Somewhere north of Knoxville, he laces his fingers through mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles like a worry stone. Ahead of us, the purple hazy peaks of the Smokies promise a safe place to rest for the night.
At dusk, we pull off onto a pitted gravel road. The car’s suspension squeaks as we wind up the mountain, the gravel eventually giving way to a rutted path through the weeds. When we’re deep in the woods, Jack kills the engine.
It’s near dark. The first early stars twinkle against a lilac sky through the branches around us. Julio stirs and rubs his eyes. He unbuttons the front of his shirt, examining the angry, oozing hole where the fire poker impaled him.
Amber wipes the sleep marks from her cheek.
“Why are we stopping?” she grumbles, peeling up the leg of her jeans. A long wet scab cuts up the back of her left calf like a jagged red vine. It’s hardly improved from this morning, all of us too weak to be much good to each other. Our cuts and punctures seem to be healing slowly from the inside out; I only wish this were true of all our wounds.
Jack’s eyelids are heavy, his face drawn. Still, he leaves the keys hanging in the ignition as if he’s second-guessing his decision to stop for the night.
“Jack’s tired.” I reach over and pluck the keys from the car, tucking them into my pocket before he can object. “He needs to rest. We all do.”
I pop the trunk, grabbing our packs as Julio and Amber ease out of the car. Amber limps in a slow circle, favoring her sore leg. Julio winces as he rubs the chill from his arms. Jack tips his nose to the wind. He draws a breath of cold mountain air, then disappears through the brush in search of a place to make camp. I get to work hiding the car, usingwhat little magic I can muster to stretch ivy and brambles over the roof. The effort makes me woozy.
