Ryland first.
My magic plunged into him as his body elevated, lifting into a weightless mass beside me. His arms drug down to the ground, and his battle worn clothes hung off him as his hair sagged. Unaware of what was going on, I began to run, dodging around the vicious bats as I dragged Ryland behind me. The screeches of the things only grew in anger as I avoided them.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to evade them for long. I was still several blocks from the clock, and the more I moved, the more their numbers increased, like snails after a rainstorm.
I only wished they would drown in it.
The rats clawed at windows, and they sat atop fallen bodies, biting over and over as strange gurgling noises came from their mouths.
I didn’t stop to look. I didn’t dare. I merely ran through the still fleeing mortals, dodging cars as they careened out of control, every inch of the frames covered with the things. Ryland’s elevated frame bobbed beside me as, one after another, I grabbed the things, throwing them away in little balls of fire as I ignited them. The hot, burning embers ignited others as they went down, the snow ball of my magic working in a way I hadn’t expected.
I turned onto a seedy side street, the old buildings closing us in as I ran through the crowd of desperation, narrowly dodging a shovel that was dripping with blood.
It was madness, everyone running in zigzags in their attempt to escape, even though I could tell by the look on their faces that they knew there was nowhere.
The streets where littered with belongings as a foolish few had tried to take belongings in their flight, only to end up bleeding and writhing beside their precious things.
The street ended at a yellow flower shop, the building I clearly remembered being a church at one point in history blocking the street, leaving only two narrow alleys on either side.
The pitch black caverns called to me as I ran, the depth of the haunting color screaming anything other than safety. I had to trust that was what I would find. Perhaps, mercifully, the forgotten spaces would be forgotten by the rats, as well.
Ebony blackness enveloped us as we ran into the narrow side way, the screams of the battle dimming as the high stone walls swallowed everything whole. I fought the urge to flare my magic, to bring light to this space, knowing it would only call them to us. However, the dark was too much for the shadowed sounds of terror. Everything was too heightened, the reality of what we were trapped in only growing in the supposed safety of the alley.
Gravel crunched under my feet as I walked with one hand against Ryland and the other against the cool brick surface of the building beside us. Taking us forward step by step, closer to the clock.
Beyond this alley was another narrow street. Beyond that was the large courtyard that would connect us to the famous attraction. Only a few more minutes, and we could be there.
That was, if nothing else went wrong.
I would say jinx, I would call for wood or throw salt or whatever else superstitious people did, yet given the situation, everything had already gone wrong.
Someone had handed me moldy lemonade, but I was definitely going to make the best of it.
I almost expected someone to jump out of the dark, a wall of the poisoned Vil?s to erupt and take us down with no recourse, but there was nothing. Nothing except blackness and the haunted echoes of the battle I was doing my best to escape.
Nothing but the sound of my shoes against the gravel.
The screams grew as we reached the next road, this one as seemingly empty as the last two. If only it would stay that way.
I could see the little things hanging from the eaves. I could hear the heightened sounds of their teeth gnashing together as they echoed back to me.
It was only empty because the Vil?s had done their job. I could see bodies—alive or dead, I wasn’t sure—strewn over the street. I could see the rivers of their blood, but nobody moved. Everything was still.
There was nothing other than the mutated bats as they waited.
Steeling myself against what was coming, I took one step into the dimly lit road, the sound of my feet against the pavement soft, and yet, somehow, they heard. Even though they couldn’t see us, thanks to the powerful shield we were shrouded with, they heard.
They heard it as if it was a battering ram.
Tiny heads snapped toward me as one, beady eyes narrowing as if they could see me. For one terrifying moment, I was sure they could, until their lazy focus snapped back to the bodies that already littered the street, the desperate hope they would somehow awaken and give them something else to bite clear on their face.
Their change in focus should have been calming; instead, it merely boiled underneath me until my heart ached with the fierceness of the beat. They might not be able to see me, but they sure could hear me.
It was a death march.
I guessed I should have said jinx.