He mumbles a yes.
“I slipped several times and shifted without meaning to. My abilities didn’t manifest until I was eleven. Thax was maybe . . . nine or ten. It can be the easiest thing ever, but it requires a lot of energy, so I can’t always do it,” I say.
“What are his abilities?”
“Thax can manipulate sound and mimic it, too. He hates it—said that I had the far more practical ability.”
“Is that why he—”
Someone barges through our door. A crackle of electricity thrums in the silence of the night—a searing, blue light that echoes in the dark room. Tommy is immediately on his feet, and I quickly follow. A blast of lightning erupts into the space and misses Tommy by mere inches. The figure clad in all black enters the motel room. Small bolts of electricity fly from their fingers, dispersing like a thunderstorm. The attacker sports a skull mask, realistically bone-like, with gaunt cheeks and faux teeth. Tommy lunges at the unwelcome stranger and attempts to drown them the same way he did the other mercenary back at the party. I don’t stay long enough to learn if the tactic is successful.
“Get out of here!” Tommy screams.
I can’t leave him like this. I won’t, after all he’s done for us. But Conin adheres to Tommy’s panicked request and drags me to the room’s only window. The issue is that we’re positioned on the second floor. There’s not much time to think about the repercussions as Tommy starts to show signs of struggle, his strength loosening, giving out.
“I’ll catch up with you!” he cries.
Conin swings a leg over the ledge. In a split-second decision, he jumps. I watch his feet crash into the mulch below. His leg twists at an unnatural angle.
Chapter 16
Conin
Pain jolts icy hot sparks in my ankle. A numb, pricking sensation coerces me to instinctively clutch on to the appendage even as chaos unfolds above. Lightning crackles and zigzags out the window I jumped from, narrowly missing Ezra by an excruciatingly small margin. I crane my neck to look at him. If he jumps the same way I carelessly did, the two of us, injured, won’t be able to get far.
I crawl forward and raise unsure arms in the sky. Ezra stares at my outstretched limbs, perched on the windowsill, turning to watch Tommy fight off the mercenary before screaming a very audible “fuck” and falling right onto my torso. The air is knocked out of me, scorching my lungs and chest.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
The ability to speak has been knocked out of me and all I can manage to is a raspy exhale. Ezra hauls himself to his feet and helps me stand.
“I’ll have to drive us out of here. Do you think you can walk?”
“Uh—”
I set the hesitant, injured foot down and regret it immediately. It burns hot and bright. Ezra flinches and wastes no time in draping an arm around me, taking my own, and pushing forward while I hop on my good foot. Three blocks of this. I don’t know if we’ll make it. His struggle in carrying half my weight is obvious. His mouth is pursed in concentration, face scrunched as we skirt around the motel.
“I don’t think my ankle’s broken,” I say.
Ezra doesn’t reply. We keep on going, almost passing the second block. We parked in a vacant lot near a bus station, which takes shape in the dark. I’m panting now and my uninjured leg is screaming for reprieve. But we’re almost there and giving up now will mean death.
Ezra’s strength wavers when he starts to tilt at my side. Boldly, I press my foot harder against the concrete. The pain is outrageous, but I push and push. I’ve dealt with worse; at least football was good for one thing. Ezra and I scramble to the bus station, where my car awaits us under a post’s harsh, fluorescent light. I rummage through my pocket for the key I kept on me, when a shadowed figure emerges through the glass of the station. He stalks in front of the vehicle and glares with malevolent disdain. The scar on his cheek is more prominent in the vivid white of the lamppost.
“Going somewhere?” Callum mocks.
He flaunts his pistol at us.
This part of town is dead. When a car passes by, Callum lowers his weapon but keeps it at the ready if either Ezra or I feel brave enough to make a move. We’re completely alone otherwise. But maybe that’s also a good thing.
“Hands up,” instructs the mercenary.
Ezra steals a glance my way, but I nod enough for him to let go. He raises his hands in the air, and I mimic the same, putting all my weight onto my good leg.
Is this really how it ends? Mere moments after our escape? After I said goodbye to Mom with the foolish optimism that one day I’ll be able to see her again? What was this all for if Ezra and I perished here? Callum certainly won’t let me live after taking Ezra from me. And then Ezra and I will never just . . .be.
Guilt emerges from somewhere deep—from leaving Tommy behind just so we could be stopped as soon as we made it to the car.
“I’ll go with you. Quietly. Just leave him alone,” Ezra says, voice piercing the night.
