“Evelyn,” Sebastian said, his voice close, encouraging. “Evelyn.”
I kept going, kept crawling forward, following. Until he was suddenly there, in front of me, and there was nowhere to run.
“Sebastian,” I gasped. “I don’t—”
“Don’t let this happen again,” he said, he sobbed. “Please. Not to you. Never to you.”
I gazed at him, not wanting this to be the last time, and not wanting this to be like last time. His long, wavering eyelashes, that stern brow, those lips searching for words. I wanted to kiss him. If there was a time for magic, then it would be now, and through some miracle of love my power would be enhanced and cancel his out and save all of our lives.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen …
My body remained cold and powerless. Our powers were not magic. A kiss would kill me. My brain was moving so slowly, searching for another way, there had to be something. Please, anything. Deep breath. Raise your power. You useless, useless girl.
His jaw tightened, and he gave me the poorest excuse for a smile. “Find the successor. Help them control it better than I could.”
I took up my dagger and gripped it tightly. I felt weak. I felt powerless. I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”
Eighteen, nineteen, twenty.
Before he could say anything else, the blade slid into him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
HE SOBBED OUT a high-pitched whimper as the dagger lodged above his hip and I prayed that I’d missed his vital organs. I felt a weight lifted, the thick smog of his power dissipating, and my breath came easier, even as I cried at his horrible groans of pain.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I’m so sorry, my love, but you’re right. No one else can die, especially not you. I need you to fight. Please, Sebastian. Fight.”
Blood poured out of his wound, and I staggered over to rip off Captain Goode’s jacket to temper the bleeding.
I gently draped the thick fabric over his stomach, the proximity making my head spin. “Hold this firmly. Just for a little while. Please.”
His hand shifted weakly onto the bloody jacket and he moaned. My heart twisted at the sound, tightening my chest so it was hard to breathe.
Though that was likely his power still.
I climbed to my feet, my bones aching, my head stuffy, shivers racking my frame. The effects of his power still wore on me without my healing to reverse them. I’d infected myself to the very edge. The next bit of exposure I had to him could knock me unconscious.
The same was true with Mr. Kent and Miss Fahlstrom. They looked about as bad as I felt, but they were still conscious and desperate to help. I set to work untying their restraints.
“Miss Wyndham, what did you do?” Mr. Kent asked.
“I weakened his power by hurt-hurting him.” I said. “But I-I don’t know how long he’ll last or how long we will or—”
Mr. Kent grabbed my shoulders to stop me from shaking. Though he looked as pale and sick as ever, his brown eyes still glowed with urgency. “I am going for help,” he reassured me. He knelt down to take his pistol and removed a handkerchief from his pocket. “I will bring them and keep them from running into that singing woman. Miss Fahlstrom, find something to help us carry Mr. Braddock out of here.”
She nodded and stumbled down the stairs to the armory, while Mr. Kent followed, tearing the handkerchief in two and blocking his ears. Before he left, he turned and hesitated, eyes on Sebastian. “Don’t let him die.” And he was gone.
I made my way to a window facing the Thames and pushed it open. “If you can hear me, see me, Arthur, William, please hurry.” Night still lingered, and it was impossible to see anything across the river. I received no response, but I had to trust they heard me. I had to trust they were coming.
“Sebastian?” I called out, my voice echoing across the room. “Are you still awake?”
He groaned, and I watched him readjust slowly and painfully. His hands and torso were drenched in blood. “Yes.”
“Good. You have to stay that way,” I said, limping over to the opposite end of the room from him.
I wanted nothing more than to fling myself onto him, heal the damage I had inflicted. Another cough and sob escaped me, and I turned away miserably. I could not go to him; I had no idea what level his power was at. I suspected I’d brought him down to near his normal level, but I didn’t quite have stabbing down to a science yet. I didn’t know whether his range would be ten feet or thirty, and I didn’t know how many more seconds I could remain conscious in either case. My body had already been running on sheer panic for the past twenty minutes, and that had to run out sometime.
I collapsed against the wall and slid ungracefully to the ground. “Sebastian? How … how are you?” I asked.
“It’s … a little uncomfortable.”
“We are in a life-or-death situation; you don’t have to spare my feelings.”
“It’s exceedingly uncomfortable. And exhausting.”
“Help is coming. Don’t fall asleep. Fight it,” I said, trying to calm both of us. “Keep your eyes open and keep talking.”
There was a long pause. “I … can’t think of anything to talk about,” he said.
“Understandable. We live such boring lives,” I said, immediately regretting sarcasm for what could easily be my last words to him.
If Sebastian died …
“You … tell me … about tonight.”
“Well, we had help from Arthur and William. And Miss Rao, even.”
“Huh,” Sebastian’s voice was fainter, and I spoke louder in response, hoping to rouse him.
“Oh! Miss Chen received a proposal today,” I said. “From Mr. Pratt.”
Sebastian’s head lolled forward. “What did she say?”
“She politely declined.”
“And you … beat him?”
“Yes,” I said numbly. None of the night felt real. “We used his power against him. Did that to a number of people on their side, actually.”
“You are remarkable, Evelyn Wyndham.”
“I … it was mostly the others. Rose, Emily, Miss Rao, and Miss Chen.”
“They are remarkable, too,” Sebastian said. “But you found a way to storm head-on through the entire Society to get here—”
“Half,” I corrected.
“And if”—he coughed—“that doesn’t sound like an Evelyn plan … I don’t know what does.”
“And if nobly sacrificing and turning yourself in to the enemy isn’t a Sebastian plan, I don’t know what is,” I replied. “Honestly, when you are back to your old self, I will murder you for being so insufferably, horribly noble.”
“Mm.” The faint murmur from him barely made it across the room.
“Sebastian! Wake up!” I half yelled, half coughed.
His head shook and slumped back. “I am. I am.”
“You need to talk.”
“I was,” he said. “I don’t … my head … it’s hard to think.”
“Anything,” I pleaded, hoping I didn’t sound like I thought he was dying. “You can say anything at all, whatever is in your head. Just a little while longer.”
Please. Please let help come.
Another silence.
“Sebastian!”
“She … she walks in beauty, like the night,” he recited, his voice thin and terribly weak.
“Oh no,” I moaned, tasting tears as my lips cracked into a watery smile. “Not that.”
He ignored me, of course. “Of cloudless climes and starry skies. And all that’s best of dark and bright; Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light; Which heaven to gaudy day…”
“Rhymes with eyes,” I encouraged him. “It’s what you do when I accuse you of a Lord Byron obsession.”
Silence.
“Sebastian!”
No response. I pushed myself back to my feet and crossed the room to him. I gritted my teeth and tensed every muscle, hoping to withstand a couple more seconds trying to wake him back up. “Sebastian, love, can you hear me?”
He wasn’t moving. I tapped the hilt of my dagger, which was still lodged in his abdomen. It did nothing. I couldn’t tell if his breathing had gotten too shallow, or he wasn’t breathing at all and my useless, blurry eyes weren’t helping.