He’s too close, too fast. His knife rakes across my arm, drawing a scorching line through my bicep.
I bite back a yelp as well as I can and lurch farther away. Blood spills scarlet through the tear in my shirt, and more remembered images flood my head.
Asher sprawls on the asphalt. Blood flecks his lips, his hands. Saturates his back all the way through his purple blazer. His eyes stare forward, dim and vacant.
I shake the gory ghosts of the past away and launch myself toward the river. I need space, room to gather my magic and regain the upper hand.
As I sprint away, I hurl a hasty wallop of ephemera behind me. Kenneth curses under his breath and pounds after me.
I’m sure I’m pulling ahead of him in the first few seconds through the thundering of our footsteps. Then his shirt rustles with the movement of his arm, and something clunks against the ground.
A blast of magic smacks into me like a tidal wave.
I crash into the path, mud splattering my face. An ache radiates through my bones.
Even in the initial daze, I fling myself to the side and retaliate with a bolt of my own magic.
If my attempt had hit Kenneth in the head, it’d have stunned him for a moment. But I didn’t have time to really aim. It strikes him in the shoulder, only making him stumble as he hurtles toward me.
Then he’s on me, his knife slicing through my shirt again even as I block his arm with mine. The blade doesn’t quite pierce my flesh, but the wound on my bicep throbs.
I knee him in the thigh, barely missing his crotch, and throw a spurt of hastily collected ephemera at his eyes. It collides with a burst of energy he just aimed at me, the two effects dissolving into useless sparks.
I grope for more magic—and another body barrels into Kenneth, yanking him right off me.
The two figures tumble together across the grass. As I pull myself into a crouch, a familiar voice growls alongside the smack of a fist. “That’s the last time you touch her, asshole.”
Salvatore pins Kenneth to the ground and punches him in the jaw. Of course it’s Salvatore—maybe I should have expectedhim to come flying out of nowhere like he has twice before. I didn’t realize he was watching me even late at night.
I straighten up, my chest heaving, and snatch my fallen backpack. I fell just a few steps from the river, near a pedestrian bridge that arches over the churning current. The roar of the water fills my ears.
Blood dribbles from Kenneth’s nose. Salvatore brandishes his switchblade, and I’m abruptly sure that knife is going to cut something much more vital than he did with the Beacon Prep guy who hassled me.
A protest bursts from my lips. “Wait! Don’t kill him.”
I need Other Elodie’s murderer alive at least long enough to confirm that heisOther Elodie’s murderer—and why. I need that more than ever now that I’m faced with a guy I had no clue might have wanted me dead until five minutes ago.
I’m not getting any answers if Salvatore slits his throat.
Salvatore stays his hand, but his voice radiates frustration. “Why the fuck not? He looked ready to murderyou.”
“Just—just restrain him. I need to know why this is happening at all.”
Kenneth squirms beneath Salvatore, and the bigger guy lets out another growl. “I say we bleed him out and let the police figure out the rest from his fucking corpse.”
That does sound like a very Salvatore sentiment. I’d be on board if this crime wasn’t so much bigger than he knows.
“Can’t you—” I start.
Kenneth twists again, with a crackle of magical energy that slams into Salvatore’s jaw like an uppercut punch. As Salvatore’s head snaps backward with a groan, Kenneth manages to shove him to the side.
The skinny guy heaves to his feet and dashes for the bridge. His steps thump onto the wooden boards that form the broad walkway across the steel structure.
I throw myself after him. Salvatore snarls and hurtles forward too.
But Kenneth isn’t actually trying to flee. He must just feel he’s in a better position with higher ground.
He pivots at the center of the fifty-foot arch, poised like a troll looking to gobble us up. I’m already tossing out a ribbon of ephemera to trip him.
