Which is going to be harder than I imagined because, the moment I plunge into the forest, I find out why Enlilkian must have favored such a place to hole up in. There are thorny brambles growing against the base of the trees everywhere, ones whose mercy is nowhere to be seen with each move I make. I’m bleeding within seconds, my clothes shredding as the fabric catches upon each thorn. To make matters worse, I’m stinging and itching, too.
Jesus. What kind of plants are these, anyway? An irrational wish for my mother to be here and counter them surfaces. But my mom isn’t here to save me. The people who are here are in grave danger themselves; I need to get to them as soon as possible. I calculate my odds—try to make it through these brambles or take my chances in the open expanses of the backyard and landscape?
Somebody screams, crying out in agony. Fireballs shoot into the sky, exploding into a mushroom cloud.
I hate to think of it as such, but it’s the perfect diversion. I force myself back out of the grove and take off across the lawn, only to be struck within seconds by a flying branch. I hit the ground hard, right on the leg Cicely tried so hard to fix. But that’s not what’s causing my eyes to fill up; it’s my arm that I tried to balance my fall, the one that was broken and so recently fixed.
I’ve rebroken it.
I force myself to get back on my feet anyway, cradling the arm to my chest. Ash swirls around me, drawing patterns in the sky. The trees are on fire; it’s spreading toward the house.
I have to move faster.
When I skid around the side of the building, I trip once more—this time over Vance’s body. His neck is funny, twisted, like it’s not even his. My good hand immediately covers my mouth, to hold back the scream that fights so hard to get out. Oh gods, he’s dead. Vance is dead.
Another person is dead because of me.
I scramble to get up, but something shoves my face into the grass; my legs tangle with Vance’s. An eerie, distorted voice hisses, “What have we here?”
CRAP.
My bad arm is pinned below me; thousands of tiny hammers nail spikes over and over into my skin, sucking the air clean out of my lungs. Even still, I kick and thrash, frantic to get myself up and out so I can fight this thing until I remember: I’m already touching it. It’s touching me.
It’s gone within a second, never to be heard from again. That’s three.
I roll onto my back and stare into the darkened, angry sky above me. Stars circle my head, but I don’t think they have anything to do with the sight above me. A bone sticks out of my forearm. Holy hell on a donkey, it hurts so bloody bad.
But I force myself first up on my knees and then my feet, promising Vance I will take as many out as I can.
There’s no sign of Kellan as I pan the front yard, or for that matter, Enlilkian. Raul’s out there, though, his two feet wide twisters playing tag with three incorporeal Elders. Cicely hadn’t seen any of them—but I guess maybe they’ve been the guard dogs outside after all. And there’s Lola, off toward the far edge of the tree grove, her lightning strikes fast and furious as they dance between the funnels.
There are three to my one. I will have no Emotional right now compelling them to cower before me, no Quake stunning them into stillness, no Métis pinning them to the ground with a blade so I can get them. There’s just me, two tornados, and a hell of a lot of lightning.
I don’t mind this death wish. Not when one of these might have been the one to stab my husband over and over. And just the thought of that has me leaning back against weathered blue, wooden panels of the house for a second so I can stuff the grief multiplying at an alarming rate inside my chest and heart into far too small a box, to be opened later on, when there is plenty of time to fall apart and drown. Right now, though, Kellan and his team need me.
I run straight toward the tornados.
Raul must see me, because the thin twisters shifts and backtrack. Luckily for me, the Elder I’m charging pays more attention to Raul’s machinations than to me. It isn’t until I’m a few feet away, and another Elder shouts my location, that it turns to face me. No matter. I allow myself to slam right into it, even though white light flashes before my eyes and pain thunders through my useless right limb.
One of its arms elongates, but I let it know that I’m no longer playing games. I waste no time winking its sorry excuse of an existence right out of these worlds. Without even a second given to catch my breath, another Elder comes in swinging, its clubbed limbs pummeling me into the grass. Too bad for it that retribution hones my focus like nothing else in all the worlds, because it doesn’t stand a chance against my wrath.
It’s gone in seconds, too. That’s four.
“Chloe!” Raul’s running toward me—or rather, limp-running. Lola is sprinting toward me, too, but as selfish as it makes me sound, all I care about right now is Kellan. Where is Kellan?