“And where is this reference desk?” I nod to the wreckage.
He weaves through the jungle of fallen bookshelves, smashed tables, and swinging light fixtures, then ducks, coming up with a zippered pack adorned with a red cross which he waves like a beacon.
I rip the soaking denim to expose the wound as he dashes back toward us. “We’ll fix you right up.”
“I’ve given birth,” she rasps. “This is like a bug bite.”
While Adrien goes to work squirting antiseptic ointment over Gaëlle’s leg, we get a moment of respite. A moment that stretches on and on.
The shaking’s stopped, yet the fire in my veins hasn’t quelled. I slide my phone from my pocket and dial Cadence before I remember her phone went the way of her silver jacket—up in flames.
Adrien starts wrapping a long bandage around Gaëlle’s leg as I dial Bastian.
It rings. And rings. And rings.
Come the fuck on! Pick up, little bro!
I hear fumbling and muffled swearing then finally, “Oh, my God!”
It’s not Bastian.
Dread pools in my belly. “Alma?”
“Slate! Oh, God.” Her voice wavers like she’s crying. “Bastian slipped and smacked his head. He’s out cold and—”
“What?” I roar.
Another tremor shakes me so violently my ribcage hurts. Or maybe it’s no tremor. Maybe it’s just me.
“And Cadence ran off after her statue.”
“After herwhat?” I shout.
“The statue her mom sculpted. She says it’s her piece. It came to life like a cursed Golem.”
“No!Fuck!” The words come out of me like a keening yowl.
Adrien and Gaëlle are now studying me, eyes narrowed.
My muscles cramp again, and the ring flares brighter. Oh, no. No, no, no. I should’ve known it was Cadence’s piece burning my blood. Not the goddamn clock.
I made her stay out there . . .
I want to shred something. I settle for a hard punch against wood that splits my knuckles.
All of this is my fault.
I should’ve kept her by my side. Instead . . . instead she’s out there, fighting alone.
“Bastian needs help and so does Cadence.” Alma’s voice gives me something to focus on besides my sharpening ire. “You guys, please help,” she whimpers.
“We fucking can’t!” I punch the bookcase again, leaving a smear of blood behind. “We’re fucking stuck in here. Call an ambulance for Bastian!”
“We don’t have ambulances in Brume. But I’ll call Sylvie—”
“Call the police. And the fire department. And the freaking Girl Scouts!”
“Okay, but Cadence said no one else can touch the piece.”
