Then they’re pouring through, the barrier’s collapsing, people are screaming, and bodies are scattering. Hellhounds are inside the circle now, and there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to run.
“Hold together!” Logan’s black-edged fire blazes, cutting down a hellhound mid-lunge.
Someone slams into my shoulder, and I stumble, catching myself on the floor. My palms come away wet and sticky.
Blood. Whose blood? Not mine. Not yet.
Vera’s war cry rips through the chaos.
I spin toward the sound, and there she is, her dagger flashing, teeth bared in that defiant snarl I’ve seen three times now. She’s slashing at a hellhound’s muzzle, driving it back, unaware of the two creatures circling behind her.
“Vera! Move to the right!” I scream, praying she’ll listen.
She doesn’t, and there are too many people in the way, too many possibilities of killing my friends along with the hellhounds. So I hold back my magic, watching in horror as all three hellhounds hit her at once.
I shove through bodies, elbowing and clawing and not caring who I knock aside. A hellhound snaps at my leg, and I kick it in the face as I electrocute it, never slowing down.
By the time I get there, Vera’s crumpled on the floor, clutching her dagger like she was planning to fight her way out of death itself.
The strangest part of everything is that none of this feels real, because none of it’s permanent. It’s like I’m watching an imaginary scenario instead of experiencing it myself.
Is this how Logan feels all the time? Like nothing’s real, because if things don’t turn out the way he wants, he can go back and change it?
Behind me, Garrett shouts a warning. The sound cuts off with a wet crunch I’ve heard before, that I’ll probably hear in my nightmares for the rest of my life.
I don’t turn around. I already know. I just launch my electricity at two hellhounds who get too close, watching as they convulse and crumple to the ground.
Then Sam’s screaming, standing against a wall with three hellhounds closing in, tears streaming down his face. His hands are shaking so badly his dagger might as well be made of paper.
This is the same as the first timeline, with the same terrified expression and the same cornered animal desperation.
His eyes find mine as he falls, wide and scared.
Deacon screams from my left. The sound cuts off halfway through, which means he’s dead, too. That’s three people I’ve saved before who are dead now.
I’m keeping count like they’re numbers instead of people. Is that morbid? It’s probably morbid.
Francis throws himself between Elizabeth and a charging hellhound, and his flames flare bright, then sputter out.
Elizabeth’s scream sounds exactly like it did in the first timeline—that animalistic noise that doesn’t sound human.
Four hellhounds circle Nina near what’s left of the fire wall’s western section. Her usually precise flames are flickering, then one of the creatures lunges at her, and then, she’s gone.
“Everyone get behind me!” Deidre’s running toward the breach, her hands raised, fire blasting from her palms. “I’ll create a barrier! I’ve studied advanced defensive formations!”
The fire catches and holds.
Then a hellhound crashes through, and its jaws close around Deidre’s throat.
She’s dead. Each time, she always ends up dead.
I’m staring at the bodies when the creatures turn to me. Their red eyes glow and their teeth are bared, with smoke curling from their muzzles as they stalk closer.
I raise my hands. But before the electricity comes, someone touches my waist, and black flames erupt around me.
The screaming and chaos fades to a distant hum, like hearing the ocean through a seashell. I’m still in the cave, but I’m also not. Everything is muted and shadowy, like watching a nightmare through dirty glass.
Logan’s arms wrap around me from behind, and they’re colder than normal. He pulls me back against his chest, and even after four timelines of death and failure, he feels like safety.
