The slightest twitch of Kazen’s eye betrayed his rage.
Rone backed into her, pressing her to the brick wall. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not looking at her. His wide eyes focused on the approaching men. Marek’s eyes narrowed in his wide face, his stride sure. “I can try . . . maybe you can escape . . .”
She needed Ireth.
She needed Ireth now.
It struck her like cold rain. Every summoner had to serve as a vessel at least once. That meant she met the qualifications of a summoner, didn’t it? The ones she knew . . . and she thought she knew them all.
Seventeen feet. Sixteen. Fifteen.
But a vessel couldn’t summon into herself!
And yet Sandis knew she wasn’t an ordinary vessel. Ireth had tried to communicate with her on multiple occasions. She’d felt his presence. Could swear she felt it even now. She remembered things she shouldn’t. And then there was her strange reaction to the Noscon writing at the records center . . .
Had Ireth been urging her to take matters into her own hands? To act? And if she was wrong, what would it cost her? Embarrassment? What a small price to pay.
Fourteen feet. Thirteen. Twelve.
She knew this. She knew this.
Fear curled around her limbs like smoke.
Kazen’s men continued their approach, Kuracean and Kazen’s small army looming behind them. Kazen was so sure. Sandis was so unsure.
Eleven. Ten.
Keeping her eyes on Kazen, Sandis pressed her palm against her head. Muttered under her breath, “Vre en nestu a carnath.” Words she’d heard so many times. Words she didn’t understand. “Ii mem entre I amar.” Her hand grew hot. Burning.
Rone turned toward her. “What?”
Nine feet. Eight. Seven.
“Vre en nestu a carnath.” Pressure flooded from her head into her limbs, straining on the border of tearing. Readying her for the excruciating pain that came with possession.
Kazen tilted his head. “Sandis, what are you mumbling?”
She hooked her foot around Rone’s and jerked it back, sending him to the ground. Leveling her gaze with Kazen’s, she finished, “Ireth epsi gradenid.”
Her body exploded.
The light was blinding, searing, burning. Fire engorged her chest and cut off her air; hot coals raked down her back and breasts. Her body contorted, twisted, wrenched— And stopped.
It stopped there, at the height of agony. Sandis blinked flames even as they seemed to flay the charred skin from her body.
She saw Kazen. The Aces. Kuracean.
She was on fire.
She was going to die.
And yet the moment she thought it, she felt his presence. Ireth. His essence braided into her own in a way it never had before, filling her nostrils with the scent of molten iron, her skin with ripe agony, her heart with . . . a strange sort of pressure. Like an embrace. Like being wrapped in the arms of her parents, shielded from the rest of the world.
Despite the sensations of her body tearing in two, her blood boiling beneath her skin, and her bones warping and snapping, Sandis smiled.
Forward. Fight. Destroy.
She understood.
Sandis threw the pain and the tremors and the burning forward, engulfing the alleyway in white fire.
Chapter 15
The amarinth wheezed as it spun. Tears from the blinding light poured rivers down Rone’s face. A great, low bellow filled his ears—the cry of Kazen’s monster, punctuated by the screams of burning men.
He pressed himself into the ground, his face inches from Sandis’s ankles. Ankles that were on fire. She was on fire. Everything was.
The amarinth spun, its gold tines reflecting bursts of red and white. The hairs in Rone’s nose singed, as did the threads of his shirt. While instinct told him to cower, he looked up.
Her body radiated impossible light, blinding him from the surrounding world. She was still Sandis, but a halo of white fire surrounded her, and her eyes—her eyes were blacker than coal.
He gawked, feeling heat that should have flayed him, but the magic of the amarinth spun around him, carrying its soft, protecting song.
For a fleeting moment, Rone forgot to breathe. Then, like the snapping of fingers, the fire snuffed out and cast him into absolute darkness.
A body thudded down beside him.
Rone blinked wet eyes. Rubbed them. Darkness turned to colored spots. To bits of light. He lifted his head. Blinked. Ash filled the alleyway.
The monster was gone. And Sandis— He turned. She lay on the broken cobbles—unconscious and completely naked.
For a moment, Rone simply stared at her. Not at her nudity, but in utter awe. How?
The amarinth stopped spinning. In the silence that followed its magic, Rone came to himself.
This wasn’t over. This was far from over.
They had to run. Now.
He grabbed Sandis, shoving one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. His bad shoulder shot a spike of pain up his neck, but he couldn’t exactly take a break and massage it. He hooked his pinky around the amarinth almost as an afterthought. He sprinted down the alleyway, kicking up ash as he went. One of the men moaned close to the junction near the road, trying to drag his devastated body to help.
Sandis couldn’t have killed all of them—there wasn’t enough ash, and the stretch of burned brick didn’t reach far enough. Kazen, where was Kazen? And his monster? There was no enormous pile of embers to mark the incineration of the numen, and both it and Kazen had been far back in the alleyway. Had they run?
His vision swirled with black splotches. He was still in their territory—but he wouldn’t be able to get far. Not in daylight. Not with a naked, unconscious woman in his arms. He had to hide. Hide.
He started down a wider road, purposefully leaving an obvious trail of ashy footprints, then turned around and retraced his steps, walking as close to the wall of a decrepit building as he could. Pushed himself down alleys that were not meant to be traveled. Found a warped door and kicked it in, then quietly pressed it back into place with his shoulder.
It was dark inside, save for a few glimmers of light from windows on the second and third stories that shone through the holes in the roof above him—a floor that could likely come crashing down on them at any moment. They couldn’t stay in this abandoned place. They couldn’t leave.
Rone checked for debris with his foot before laying Sandis down. He took her face in his hands. “Sandis,” he whispered. She felt warm under his fingers. Not fire warm, but fever warm.
Had she summoned Ireth on her own? She hadn’t brought forth the numen, however. Only his fire.
He shook his head. Patted her cheeks. “Sandis. Sandis. God’s tower, please wake up.” His heart sped. Sweat traced trails down his forehead. She breathed steady and slow, like someone in a deep slumber.
Rone checked himself. He didn’t feel any burns—thank the amarinth for that—but the back of his shirt was charred and threadbare. Even as he pulled it off, he felt ash fall into his hair. Whatever. He could afford a new shirt. He laid the ruined article of clothing over Sandis. His eyes were starting to adjust, and he didn’t trust himself not to look.
She’d saved his life. The least he could do was not ogle her while she was unconscious.
Rone sat next to her and wiped a filthy hand down his face. First the one-winged, claw-handed woman, then that . . . pincer monster. The more he saw of the occult, the more it scared him.
He glanced at Sandis’s supine form as he shoved the amarinth into his trouser pocket. This Kazen wanted her back. Badly.
Exactly what sort of hellish creature had possessed her?
Rone didn’t want to explore much, for fear of the building falling on top of him, not to mention worry that any noise would bring both grafters and numina upon him. But he looked around, searching for anything that might be of use. He found a lot of old nails and other debris. Mice, dead and alive. That was pleasant. No food, but if he had found food, he wouldn’t have eaten it.