My legs windmilled so fast they were probably blurring. It must not have been fast enough to Remo’s taste, though, because he hauled me forward.
The rumbling turned into a bang that sent us both sailing onto our stomachs. Hot, white sand cushioned our fall as a spray of rock and tongues of fire lapped at our backs. I clapped my hands over my ears and burrowed my face into the ground, trying to sink right through it. Unfortunately, I didn’t sink, and the chunks of debris lashed my back.
As pain crosshatched my skin, I thought up new ways to torture Gregor Farrow, but then dismissed all of my ideas. I’d have him locked in here, then order the destruction of the portal. A heavy weight settled over my back, and I thought the entire train car must’ve come loose, but the weight had a heartbeat. Praying it wasn’t a wild animal about to tear through my flesh, I twisted my face to see what or who had landed on me.
I caught a brassy flash of hair and a whiff of masculine sweat—Remo.
Another detonation. His body tensed over mine as fiery pellets hissed through the air. Even though I was glad for his protection, I worried for his safety. I tried to free my hands and access my dust but could barely squirm. I balled my fist, touching the tips of my fingers to my tattoo, but couldn’t get mywitato adhere. As though I were swimming through drying cement, I spread my arms wide and raised them over my head. When my palms connected, I coaxed my dustout, then parted my hands, fashioning a transparent dome to cover our sandwiched bodies. I probably should’ve made it a tad larger so I could wriggle out from underneath Remo, but comfort hadn’t been my first priority. A cacophony of pings and clangs layered itself over the ringing inside my ears as more pieces of the train hailed over our shield.
Remo slid off me, but had to stay on his side, and me on mine to fit under my egg-shaped dome. His face glistened with sweat and trails of black smoke, but at least there was no blood.
Sand coated my lips. “Remo?” I raised my hand to his arm.
He winced.
When I lifted my palm, it was stained red. I tried to glimpse the rest of his back without touching him. But besides rips in the navy fabric, I couldn’t lever my head high enough to see anything in the cramped space.
“The shield”—his labored breaths struck the tip of my nose—“good call.”
If only I’d brought it out sooner.
Another cloud of detritus fell over the curved glass. I curled my head into my neck and my arm over the exposed side of my face, worried our defenses might crack, but Karsyn’s dust—Karsyn’s incredible, amazing dust—held steady.
I didn’t raise my head again until the banging and thumping came to a stop. And even then, I waited a dozen heartbeats before lowering my bent arm back alongside my body and peeking around.
Remo’s complexion had gone as ashen as when he’d been imprisoned in thecupola, and his eyes were feverishly bright.
“Are you okay?” My voice sounded like it was coming from another planet.
“Yeah.” His, too, sounded faint and distant. “You?”
I nodded. In spite of the confetti of tiny pulses beating in my eardrums, skull, waist, ankles, I was alive and conscious, so I was okay. Funny how standards changed when in survival mode.
“Do you think it’s over?” The air beneath the dome was so balmy that fog blurred the glass.
He looked over his shoulder at what he could see of the boulder platform, and then, gritting his teeth, he pressed his palms into the rounded glass and heaved it up so he could sit. Although my blood felt like it had spilled out of my body, I pushed up too. For a moment, all was gray, and then color returned in splashes, and the fuming crater crenellating the rock came into soft focus.
“It’s over,” he said, “but unless a new train appears, so is cell-hopping.”
A chill swept over my overheated body, icing the slickness on my skin. What if this world was the worst one yet?
“One down, one to go.” I didn’t think Remo was murmuring but it felt like he was.
“What?” I croaked.
“If this world works like the others, we only have one morefunoccurrence in store.”
I returned my gaze to Remo’s, which was shadowed by the waving blue-green fronds above us. “Do you think it self-destructed by accident or did you press a button?”
His gaze tapered. “I didn’t activate any dead-man’s switch.”
“If I’d been the one manipulating the touchscreen, you would’ve asked me, too.”
His stony silence endured, pigheaded faerie that he was.
I pressed my lips into a thin line as I kneeled and reeled my dust back into my hand. “Let me see your back.”
When my fingers crept to the hem of his tunic, he said, “If you think you can get me naked after blam—”
