Authors: Deborah Cooke
They turned on me, thousands of hungry beings, and lunged toward me. They were intent on ensuring that I was surrounded and trapped, their spell light flying through the air like ropes and grappling hooks cast at the walls of a medieval fortress.
I held the NightBlade high and shouted a taunt, then dove through them. It was my best impression of a football play. I flew toward my pals without thinking about landing, just
descending as fast as I could. I burst through Jared’s bubble of spell light, almost certainly because he let me, then shifted shape.
In human form, I skidded to a halt. I put my hand down to brace myself, and felt something sticky and warm.
I chose not to look at Suzanne just yet.
I was glad that I still had my backpack. I hauled out Skuld’s shears and cut Nick free with a savage slice. He shifted shape, leaping skyward in dragon form to rage dragonfire at an approaching golden tendril of spell light. I cut it away, as well, chopping it into tiny chunks. It writhed as I did so, like a snake that simply would not die.
When it was still and blackening to ash, I would have gone to Isabelle and Kohana. But I felt heat and I turned just as the bonfire leapt suddenly high. I thought the ShadowEaters were calling to it, because it fired straight up in the air, making a tall plume of flame.
Which burned right through Jared’s carefully constructed spell wall, the way a flamethrower might incinerate a piece of tissue paper.
I pivoted to see that Jared was ashen from his efforts. All the same, he taunted them. “Can’t even take out a novice Mage? What a useless bunch of spellsingers!”
I cried out when the ShadowEaters surrounded him, their spell light wrapping around him like a thousand heavy ropes. Jared sang a defensive spell, but he was ferociously outnumbered. He cast me a hot look, one that told me he’d drawn their fire on purpose.
For me.
“No!” I shouted, and would have gone after him, but Nick shouted a warning.
“Now, Z!” I looked up to see the net of spell light closing around us, as it had once before.
Nick soared down and snatched up spellbound Isabelle, grimacing as the spell light tried to wind its way around him, too. I reached with Skuld’s shears to cut it back and heard Jared’s song become louder.
“Go!” he roared, just before they surrounded him and took him down.
“No!” I screamed, and would have gone after him.
But Nick snatched me up, letting me cut Isabelle free as he shot into the sky. He flew straight toward the closing wall of spell light, holding fast to both Isabelle and me. She was unconscious in his grasp, and I could feel his tension.
I was crying for Jared, knowing they’d finished him off. Grief gave me power, though. I held the shears open and used them like a sword, slashing at the rapidly closing net of spell light. Nick slipped through like he was greased, then raged ever higher in the night sky.
Isabelle didn’t stir.
Jared was lost far, far behind us.
And the air was brilliant gold with the frenzy of ShadowEaters at their feast. I was tempted to lean my head on Nick’s powerful shoulder once we had escaped and cry my heart out.
I’d failed.
Miserably.
But I felt his anxiety and fear for Isabelle, and knew that showing my terror wouldn’t help him at all. It was my job as leader to give him hope and inspire him to go on.
I’d do my best and we’d fight right to the end.
Even if the chances of winning seemed more slim by the minute.
Jared was dead.
“Go to the school,”
I said in old-speak.
“Meagan and Jessica might be able to help Isabelle.”
“Good idea,”
Nick agreed, then looked down at me.
“What about you?”
“
Just take care of Isabelle. I’ve got an idea.
”
It wasn’t true, at least not yet, but Nick didn’t need to know it. I felt his heart skip with hope.
Then I closed my eyes, knowing exactly where I wanted to be.
Alone.
I
SLAMMED INTO THE DRIVER’S
seat of my car, panting and perspiring and trembling. I looked around with some trepidation, but the street outside the hostel looked just as it had earlier in the morning. There were a few pedestrians, one woman pushing a baby carriage, another walking a dog, and a couple of older kids with backpacks, maybe going to class at the college. The snow was still falling lightly.
It was astonishingly normal.
I took a deep breath and looked at the house, which also appeared to be the same. The driveway wasn’t shoveled and the paint on the porch was peeling.
Had I dreamed it all? Or had it really happened?
You know what I wanted the answer to be.
I took a deep breath and opened the car door. My heart was pounding, but I had to know for sure. I went down the driveway, noting the single tread from a motorcycle and a line of footprints. Were they mine? They matched my boots perfectly, which was not a good sign.
There was silence behind the house, no tinkling with motorcycle parts, and I pretty much knew what I’d see when I came around the last corner. There was a mark in the snow where a motorcycle had been parked. The sheet where Jared had spread out the gear parts was folded and jammed under the railing of the back porch, right where he’d left it.
And there was a circle of melted snow where the bike’s exhaust had heated the ground.
No motorcycle.
No Jared.
Losing him hadn’t been a vision or a dream. It had happened.
I tipped back my head, fighting my tears, wishing I really was going crazy, because then Jared would be safe and I wouldn’t be the biggest failure of all time.
Insanity was the much better choice.
After a few moments, I pulled out my messenger. The in-box was loaded with messages, but I didn’t have the heart to sit and read through all the news. Kohana and Jared were dead. Nick and Isabelle were headed to the school, and Jessica and Meagan would be there. What about everyone else? How much of a team did we have left? I sent Garrett and Liam messages to come to the school, too.
Most important, how much power had the ShadowEaters gained in that ceremony?
I might as well find out the worst of it, live and in person.
I turned around and trudged back to the car, then drove to school, my heart dragging behind the exhaust pipe. I was sure things couldn’t get any worse, but, naturally, I was wrong.
O
NE LOOK TOLD ME THAT
the ShadowEaters had really scored.
The school could have been one of my dad’s pyrotechnics displays, but an interactive one. It was surrounded by a halo of brilliant yellow and gold Mage light, so bright that I could hardly look straight at it. The building seemed to radiate golden spell light, the binding spells weaving around and above it in such frantic patterns that the sight made me sick.
I’d probably made the school more of an attraction by having everyone gather here. But I needed them all together.
Still, I had major trepidation about going into the school. I parked the car and watched the spells dance for a minute, dreading whatever I would find inside. Never mind what would happen to me when I got in there. Maybe we were all doomed. Maybe the ShadowEaters had already won.
Maybe this was it.
Maybe I wasn’t going to go down easy.
I pulled out Skuld’s shears and tucked them inside my coat, wanting them closer than in my backpack.
Then I got out of the car, my mouth as dry as sandpaper.
The first ShadowEater appeared beside me when I’d gone only ten steps. Its eyes glowed with that luminescence. I turned to look at it, shocked that it would be so overt about stalking me in broad daylight.
It bared its teeth and snapped in my direction.
I pulled out Skuld’s shears and snapped back, chopping off its hand with one savage gesture. It howled and retreated.
Victory was fleeting. I watched in horror as spell light poured from its severed wrist. It swelled up like a cloud of animosity, a miasma of sizzling spell fury. The spell light inside the ShadowEater was spilling out of his skin, and as the orange cloud became bigger, his silhouette deflated like a balloon. In a heartbeat, there was a towering cloud of spell light before me, crackling like a bonfire, lit with interior sparks.
And a flat, dark skin on the ground, discarded.
It looked a lot like a shadow, actually.
The cloud swirled and joined the display surrounding the school. I knew it made the existing spells burn brighter and move with more agitation.
When I looked back at the ShadowEater’s skin, it was gone.
So I had eliminated a ShadowEater, but its energy had strengthened the spell surrounding the school. This couldn’t be a good revelation. I hid Skuld’s shears beneath my coat again and walked warily toward the school.
How could the ShadowEaters be dispersed and the spell light extinguished for good? It was a riddle, and I reminded myself that I was good at solving riddles.
Even when somewhat short of sleep.
T
O MY RELIEF, THERE WAS
a tendril of purple spell light slipping through the barrage of brilliant swirling gold. I knew that had to be coming from Meagan and followed it with purpose. There were lots of kids in the halls, so it must have been between classes. I looked at the time on my messenger, not sure what class I was missing.
I didn’t even have a chance to find Meagan.
Muriel stood by my locker, a sentinel with a sour expression. “You’re late,” she said, scanning me with disapproval.
“I, uh, had car trouble,” I lied. “It wouldn’t start.”
“You should have just walked.”
“I thought I could fix it but I was wrong.” I forced a smile. Muriel, she of the many merry smiles, did not smile back. “Sorry, Muriel. I should be in English class, right?”
“Art class,” Muriel corrected.
“Bonus!” I feigned enthusiasm.
She watched me with suspicion. “You never miss art class, Zoë,” she said quietly. “Would you like to tell me the real trouble?”
The real trouble. I was tempted to tell her, just to see her reaction.
I watched Trevor murder Suzanne this morning in order to convert himself to a ShadowEater, a being of spell light and malice. There wasn’t anything I could do about it since I was fighting
binding spells myself at the time. The worst part is that the guy I’m crazy for let himself be killed by the ShadowEaters to give me a chance to escape, and I have no idea what the point of living is with him dead.
No. The truth had no place in this discussion.
I glanced up and down the hall, relieved to see Meagan closing in fast and Jessica right beside her. Both looked freaked, but both were surrounded by a glistening blue halo of Meagan’s spell light. I sent Jessica a thought about Meagan defending Garrett, Liam, Nick, and Isabelle, who should arrive soon. She nodded once and bent to whisper to Meagan.
Meagan’s gaze was locked on me and her eyes were wide with horror. Best-friend radar never fails. She knew something really bad had happened, something bad enough to shake me to my marrow.
I couldn’t send the news about Jared through Jessica.
And then there was Muriel. “You should know, Zoë, that the police wish to talk to you.”
“The police?” I was genuinely shocked and Muriel knew it.
She beckoned with one finger and a police officer strode down the hall toward us. He was trying to look friendly and pretty much failed. He was older than Muriel, a bit stocky, and had the weary appearance of someone who had seen a lot of nasty things.
Maybe because his eyes were dancing with spell light.
Good. He was going to keep me busy while the ShadowEaters slurped up the last bits of Kohana and Jared. I appreciated their concern for my schedule.
I would fry them all—as soon as I figured out how.
I shot a look at Meagan and Jessica, but they were heading down the hall. Going to defend the others. At least something was going right.
“This is Detective Smith,” Muriel said. She preened a little, as if she thought he was hot, which was just about the most revolting idea I’d had all day. (Which is saying something.) “He wants to ask you a few questions.”
“Okay. Are you going to stay with us?”
Muriel flushed and smiled and gestured to the empty classroom adjacent to my lockers. Detective Smith got out his digital notepad, and the interrogation began.
He asked my name and address, my age and my grade, even though he must have known all of that already. I understood that these questions were supposed to help me relax.
They didn’t.
He asked about my car and my parents, then gave me an intent look.
That golden spell light dancing in his pupils gave me the serious willies, but I held his gaze. I knew he’d think I was lying if I looked away.
“Suzanne is missing. I believe you know her.”
“Everyone knows Suzanne.”
“Someone saw her get into your car last night, but no one has apparently seen her since.”
“Yeah, I gave her a ride.”
He scribbled with his stylus. “Why?”
I shrugged. “She asked for one. It was snowing and she said Trevor hadn’t picked her up like he was supposed to.”
“And what was her destination?”
“Trevor’s house.”
He flicked a look at me. “And that’s where you left her?”
“No. She wanted to be dropped off at the end of the block.” Detective Smith arched a brow, and I smiled apologetically. “She didn’t want to be seen in my car.”
His attention sharpened at that. “Why not?”
“It’s too old and beat-up to be cool.”
He flicked through his notes with a fingertip. “But doesn’t Suzanne have her own car?”
“Yeah. A new Interceptor convertible.”
“Then why did she need a ride from you?”
“Her car wasn’t here. Maybe because Trevor was supposed to give her a ride.”
He impaled me with a brilliant yellow glance. “Isn’t it true that you and Suzanne had a fight yesterday? Isn’t it true that she didn’t have her car because she was being punished by her parents for that fight?”
“I don’t know why she didn’t have a car.”