The wind crawled over the sizzling pavement to the citrus and pearl dust scented woman’s pink-shelled ear.
The fan, it whispered.
The woman opened her eyes. She looked around, sweat beading on her brow. Could she hear the wind? Could she understand it now she had the Ward’s power flowing inside her too?
The fan!
The wind remembered what the merchant had said. He’d told the woman to use it when it got hot. It was hot.
The woman’s hand shook. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the fan.
Above her, the trickster and the musician had nearly run out of power. Their water shield had thinned to a trickle.
She flicked her wrist, and the lacy gold and pink paper fan expanded.
The water shield guttered.
Now! the wind screamed.
The boy had died, but the wind would not let his child die too.
The woman waved the fan.
The wind shrieked. It was a wind fan! It was a hurricane! It was beautiful!
The fan called the wind. In a single snap of the woman’s wrist, every bit of wind, from the Atlantic to the Catskills, swept against the paper and ricocheted off.
The wind had become a mighty wind giant.
It bounced off the fan and screamed.
It was wrath. It was rage. It shoved the fire back and swept it into a giant fire tornado. It saved the woman and chased her attackers away.
99
Finn stabbed himself. But which Finn was it? Was it the cruel Finn or the good Finn?
He was lit suddenly by a giant blast of fire. Then, a giant wind shrieked, and the flames coalesced into a fire tornado. It tore through Hell Gate’s creatures. They ran, diving out of its path. Some of them were swallowed by the horror; others escaped the Silencer’s ring.
With every creature swallowed, the horror grew. Its black mass had swallowed an entire block and had nearly consumed a second. It threatened to overrun Primus and Last. She tugged at his rock armor, and when he didn’t move, she slapped his face.
Finn shoved the blade deeper into his chest. When the uninjured Finn went to let go, he grabbed him and pulled him close. They grappled, rolling over the ground, hitting boulders and wrestling through flames.
“Finish it,” Jagger said, his will snapping out.
I stalked across the horror-bled concrete, sprinted around the fire tornado, and launched at Finn’s exposed back.
“No!” a man roared.
I felt the illusion rushing behind me. A singing bolt of fire. I untied it without looking and slammed into Finn, flipping over him.
Darin was here.
I hit the ground and skidded over the sidewalk. At least twenty Smiths rushed toward us.
Darin looked between me and Finn. He didn’t see the second, cruel Finn.
He rushed at me, pulling a knife free.
