I swung at her, and she spat another ice shard at me, clipping my shoulder. She dodged my clumsy attack and kneed me in the gut. I lost my breath, and by the time I found it, she’d frozen my feet together into a block of ice and kicked me to the ground. I tried sliding away from her, chipping at the ice with my dagger and then resorting to banging the whole thing against the stone.
She smiled at the futility of the endeavor and then stared at me wide-eyed as the walls behind me started to crack and shatter, followed quickly by the ice around my feet.
I took the opportunity to kick her shins and scramble back up. I darted for the closest stairs I could find as more walls on the west side started to come down, exposing the inside of the White Tower and giving Miss Chin and the others a better view of my enemy.
I made it up to the second floor, where I found what I was looking for: the extensive armory. Figures in the shapes of past kings and their horses donning four-hundred-year-old armor. Glass cases of swords, pistols, and shields. I smashed one open with debris and pulled out the tallest shield I could find. It was heavy and unwieldy, but when Miss Quinn caught up to me and unleashed the full power of her freezing breath, I blocked the entire attack, beyond a slight chill in my feet.
She was getting frustrated, especially with the constant barrage from my friends. Every time Miss Chen broke open another section of the tower, Emily would grab Miss Quinn, dodging her attack and throwing her into the glass cases. In desperation, she fired shards at Beauchamp Tower and blew a mist into the air that gave her some cover, but that only helped her make it behind another wall that Miss Chen started cracking apart.
I maneuvered into the exposed areas, keeping my shield between Miss Quinn and me. Every wound stayed with me now, but it wasn’t fear that made me defensive. It was trust in my friends’ powers. That they were doing everything I couldn’t do to help. I readied my shield, waiting for the last of the walls to fall away, when I discovered Miss Quinn had friends of her own. A knife sliced into my arm, and as I reflexively swung back at the attacker and found myself stumbling through a body, I knew exactly who it was.
“Fei, dear, this has gone far enough!” Mr. Pratt’s illusion yelled out into the darkness.
Another slash tore across my chest, and I had to start swinging wildly, hitting air. He’d managed to render himself invisible. Emily tried to help by throwing debris, but nothing seemed to make contact with the invisible enemy. Blood dripped from my body onto the floor, and now I was certain my power had been shut off. My arm was a mass of hot pain and my skin stung where the shallower cut had sliced across my chest.
“I understand the need to preserve your feminine modesty by rejecting my first few proposals, but you need not destroy the Tower of London for it!”
Glass broke in a corner display case and a sword and shield quickly disappeared before Emily’s rocks could make it there. I started to back away, though I didn’t quite know where to back away from. I barely knew how to fight a visible enemy. How could I fight an invisible one?
Then I heard Miss Chen answer me with the crumbling of the ceiling. Dust sprinkled from above, disappearing wherever it fell upon Mr. Pratt. Holding my shield out, I backed away from him while keeping one eye on Miss Quinn, who seemed to be preparing an attack. Thunder growled in the sky with me.
“If it would make you feel better, your traitorous friend Miss Wyndham can attend our wedding!” Mr. Pratt’s illusion offered from behind me. “We’d have to keep her in a box, of course, but we can make it look quite lovely!”
Three knives flew at me at once, two illusions making no sound as I blocked with my shield, and a real one leaving a burning slash in my leg.
I stumbled toward the edge of the building, where a patter of rain started to fall, and I felt the awful helplessness of slipping on ice. My legs spun out from under me, my dagger clattering out of my hand. I was completely open to attack, which, of course, is when Mr. Pratt charged.
A charge I could now see, with Miss Rao’s barrage of rain droplets disappearing upon contact, forming an outline of a man swinging his sword down upon me.
I wrenched my shield up, blocking the attack from the ground, my shoulder screaming in pain. I kicked at his feet while Emily’s stones struck his head. With a final push of my shield, I twisted it and slammed into Mr. Pratt’s torso, knocking him off-balance and off the building with a scream.
A shard struck me in the shoulder. I spun around, putting my shield up to block, feeling the thumps of icicles lodging in the front. I rose up to my knees behind the cover as I felt shivers and heard Miss Quinn let loose another heavy freezing breath. Nothing touched me, but as I heard her footsteps come closer, I tried to move the shield and found it frozen to the ground. I pulled and pulled in desperation, waiting for Miss Chen to help. But the ice had been formed on the other side of the shield, out of her sight.
The footsteps came closer and closer. I reached out for my dagger on the ground, and another shard impaled my hand immediately. Which left me stuck on the edge with no weapon and one hand.
“I’m sure that will heal eventually,” Miss Quinn said.
I turned with her voice and steps, trying to keep the shield between us as I tried to think of a plan. The rain had stopped, along with Emily’s rocks, and it seemed my friends had also run out of ideas.
What was the most unexpected thing I could do? She knew I was cautious, afraid, searching for a way to survive without my healing. I wouldn’t be reckless enough to charge straight at her.
So that’s what I did. I steeled my nerves and leaped out from my cover, startling her into firing a shard straight into my foot. My terrible charge quickly came to an end as I hit the cold ground.
And slid on her ice. Right to her feet.
I slammed the shard of ice lodged in my hand straight into her leg, and as she toppled down over me, my palm turned up and caught her with it. She fell onto the shard and cried out in pain.
I shoved her aside and wrenched my numb hand free before clumsily scrambling to my feet. She remained on the ground, coughing up blood, unable to do the same. A scream left my mouth as I pulled the shard out. Bruised, bloody, and broken, I picked up my dagger and limped up the stairs to the third floor.
Time for the hard part.
I climbed the dark, narrow stairs slowly and loudly, every part of my body aching. No need for stealth at this point.
I reached under my skirts and pulled out Mr. Kent’s pistol. I wasn’t going to shoot Captain Goode, but I needed to be enough of a threat to distract him.
But before I even reached the top of the stairs, I heard his voice call to me. “Miss Wyndham, I want you to know that I have a gun pointed at Mr. Braddock’s head.”
I covered my mouth to swallow my cry. Of course it wasn’t going to be quick and easy. I climbed the last stair and stopped at the doorway, my gun pointed at Captain Goode. The room was austere and unadorned. No displays of armor or weapons like the rest of the keep. Just three prisoners, wrists and legs tied to chairs. I winced when I saw the blood and cuts on Sebastian’s face, the rag stuffed into Mr. Kent’s mouth. But they were alive, this pair of brave, wonderful fools.
I didn’t know what to make of Miss Fahlstrom being held as the third prisoner. Did our revelations about Captain Goode convince her to help us?
“Will you give the gun to Mr. Thorpe?” Captain Goode asked.
To my right, the torturer from the train cleared his throat, watching me closely with his uncovered eye. He was bandaged and leaning on a cane, but it didn’t make him any less dangerous. Even if Miss Chen managed to break down the wall for Miss Rao and Emily to sweep everyone up, it would not be fast enough to keep Sebastian from getting hurt.
“No,” my mouth answered, unbidden. He’d turned Mr. Kent’s power up to make this a truthful conversation.
“I see,” Captain Goode said. “Now, do you know what Miss Fahlstrom’s power is?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“She can see the deaths of powered people.”
“Good,” he said. “Now, Miss Fahlstrom, how and when is Mr. Braddock going to die?”