He stepped closer. “How long do we have?”
I shook my head. “Minutes.” I winced at a flood of pain and desire. “Maybe.”
I hadn’t resisted the Clarks, and I hadn’t resisted untying any of the Bards’ traps. This . . . resisting hurt.
Maybe that was the way it was for Luvic too. When I’d asked if he could just keep us away from Rockefeller Center, he’d claimed he couldn’t do that.
Why? He wouldn’t say.
“What can you do to stop it?” I’d asked.
He’d given me a flat stare. “We’ll find out.”
Luvic twisted his hand, and the building’s fire alarm blared. He twisted again, and people began to pour out of the exits, their clothing drenched. Ah. He’d set off the sprinklers.
“They’re not coming fast enough,” I said, gritting my teeth against the urge to yank the knots free and bury the plaza in stone.
Some of the people hurried, but most wandered out of the building looking bored or confused. That was the problem. There were so many false fire alarms people never believed them when they were real. It made them complacent.
“Move faster,” Luvic said, twisting his hand again. Windows shattered, and people screamed.
I floated outside of myself, searching the illusion of the building. It was cleverly constructed. Whoever had built Rockefeller Center had used illusion to enhance its natural characteristics, making it more appealing, more beautiful, more influential. Come to think of it, the buildings were a lot like a Bard. No wonder Dagrid was angry. If the media here had smeared Celia, it would’ve been like your own child turning on you. Unacceptable.
I stared at the flashing alarm lights and the people pouring out. They looked like water rushing from a fountain. The Greek variety, where a man’s mouth was open and water poured free.
I could tug just one knot. Just one. It wouldn’t hurt. Not exactly. It might actually feel good. I’d have a bit of relief. Like finally scratching that space between your shoulder blades that you can’t ever reach. I found a lark’s head knot and tugged at the ends so they flapped like wings.
I smiled, loosening, unraveling.
It felt good tugging at that thread.
Mari!
I blinked. I swore I’d heard Finn. I glanced around. He wasn’t there. Instead, there were sirens growing closer. The press of bodies and heat. Luvic snarling something at me. I shook my head.
“What?”
“Give me two minutes.” Luvic twisted his hand again. Conjured flames shot out of the shattered windows. “It’s illusion,” he said under his breath. “Just . . . where is that blasted Ward?”
Earlier, he’d sent out a message for Jacob, putting a news story out that he was sure to understand. I didn’t think it would work. I didn’t think Jacob paid attention to the news. That was why I’d been tugging on the rope that connected us all day long.
Three short tugs. Three long tugs. Three short tugs again.
SOS.
Had he felt it?
I realized, with a shock, I hadn’t stopped with the one lark’s head knot. Unconsciously, I’d been rapidly tugging knots free from the base of the tower, a pleasurable hum growing with each knot I pulled. It was as if untying one knot had opened the gate for untying them all. A quarter of the illusion had already disintegrated. The structure was weakening, and the tower swayed when a strong gust of wind roared through the plaza.
Luvic swore. This time, his words were more explicit then I’d ever heard.
The fire trucks were here. The emergency workers were shoving people back.
Was everyone out?
My teeth were clenched so tightly my cheeks had gone numb. My nails dug into my palm. It hurt as I resisted sliding another knot free.
“Luvic?”
