It was something that was going to get me killed.
The snarls were moving closer. The gnashing teeth, the beating wings coming up behind me.
Swinging my uninjured hand behind me like a baton, I tried to bring my magic up, ready to drop the filthy thing out of the sky before any more came. Nothing happened. No flame, no spark of magic. I didn’t even feel it swell inside of me. It was no more than a low buzz under my skin, a gentle throbbing that felt like knives against my soul.
Dodging into an alley, my heart thundering in fear and confusion, I leaned against the wall as I listened, waiting for the thing to follow me, knowing it wasn’t far behind.
With a hiss and a snarl, the Vil? came around the corner of the alley. I reached for it, wrapping my fingers around its neck and slamming it into the wall I stood next to. My whole body shook as I held it there, staring into its dead eyes as it continually gnashed and fought me. Its little claws scraped against the hand that held it captive, but I didn’t so much as flinch. Those tiny pinpricks of pain were nothing compared to the agony shooting up my arm.
This, I could handle.
This, I was used to.
“I remember you things when you were annoying little peacemakers,” I spat, part of me wondering if he could even hear me. “We must love everyone. Do not judge based on what you see. The hippies would have loved you. You were almost as bad as the Drak.”
It continued to gnash and claw at me as it fought against my hold, the motion useless. Even in my weakened state, it had no hope.
With a roll of my eyes, I compressed my hand against its throat, its windpipe closing with a little bit of pressure.
Slowly, it stopped trying to fight me, the sharp point of its claws digging into me less and less.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as its head fell to the side, wings sagging as I let it drop lifelessly to the ground.
I hoped no more found me.
One, I could choke. Two hundred and I would be a goner. I already knew I wouldn’t be lucky enough for that scream to go unheard.
I needed to hide. Not that it would make any difference with Vil?s, but I wasn’t going to go out into the middle of the street and start waving my arms, either.
Dragging my feet against the garbage-strewn floor of the alley, I moved away, clinging to broken bits of mattresses, chairs, and the wall as I made my way to a large dumpster, the massive thing taking up most of the space of the dingy thoroughfare and providing me with the perfect cover.
Or so I hoped.
Hissing in pain, I slid down the wall, pressing myself against the vile metal box that smelled faintly of fruit. I tried to focus on my surroundings, focus on any noise coming my way—be it hissing or wings or blue-eyed men. There was nothing, nothing except dead air and the faint red glow of Edmund’s barrier.
It was something that should have been relaxing, but I didn’t think anything could be at that point, because right then, sitting behind the dumpster, the panic that had gripped me for the past few minutes became more of a frightening reality. Everything that had happened in the last who knew how long washed over me: attacking my best friend, Sain, and Sain standing beside Edmund, and Rosy and Cail, and Thom …
“Thom,” I said aloud, the frightening memory swimming through my mind—that moment as I fought against Edmund’s control in a desperate attempt to stop myself from killing him.
No, to stop Edmund from killing him.
I had thought I was strong enough to face the demons the blade awakened, to save my daughter. But Edmund was stronger. No, the blade was stronger. This dangerous thing had better not end in Thom’s death.
I needed to get there in order to make sure he was okay, to give this dratted thing to Ilyan before something worse happened. I hoped he could destroy it.
My arm exploded in a jolt of pain as I looked down at my hand, at the blade and the dried blood that clung to it like some kind of scab. I had to take it out before he found me, before he tracked it and found me, before he took control again. For all I knew, it was this thing that was blocking my magic, and I wasn’t conceited enough to think I could make it through the city without so much of a spark, that I could make it through the city without Edmund taking control again. I didn’t have another option. It was too dangerous to wait.
Closing my eyes, I wrapped my other hand firmly around the end, the rock slick with dried blood, warm and uncomfortable to the touch.
I tried not to think about what I was about to do. I breathed, part of me praying I didn’t go into cardiac arrest. It would be like a band-aid, or so I said in my head. I guessed the analogy would be correct if the band-aid was made of massive leeches, barbed wire, and duct tape.