Page 349

It took him a minute to turn around. He flicked off the watch, nothing coming through now but static. “We need to go,” he said, face bleak, his green eyes more haunted than she’d ever seen them. “Leave Yveswich, I mean. Atlas estimates less than thirty minutes before the replica blows.” Less than thirty minutes. Gods.

But Loren wasn’t running. Not anymore, and not when it meant abandoning the people she loved. Abandoning Darien. “I’m not leaving.” She turned and went back into her room. “We need to get to the Control Tower.”

“Fuck that noise,” Malakai bit out, storming in after her, the dresser rattling from his heavy footfall.

Loren pulled her pajama shirt over her head, causing Malakai to whip back around, his back now facing her, though he didn’t leave the room. She had to get that bodysuit on and get out of here—quickly.

“We both know what happened last time,” Malakai said, still facing the other way as she shimmied her shorts down to her ankles and stepped out of them. “You almost died.”

“Thirty minutes isn’t long enough for them to make it out of those tunnels,” Loren said. She grabbed a baby-blue t-shirt and a pair of black leggings and put them on—clothes that would fit most comfortably under the bodysuit. “They’ll be too close. They’ll either die from the blast, or they’ll wind up stuck in the tunnels.”

“And how are we supposed to stop a literal bomb from going off?” He peeked over his broad shoulder, and once he saw that she was dressed he turned to face her. “Might I remind you again that the last time you poured your magic into the Control Tower, your heart stopped beating. I refuse to be responsible for that happening again.”

“It won’t. I have these now.” She held up her hands, showing him the conduit tattoos on her palms, the sun and crescent moon shimmering as if with glitter. “These will help, won’t they?” She studied him closely, but he was good at not giving himself away. “Do you have any?” she pressed.

He begrudgingly showed her the hooded Reaper tattoo that wrapped around his right forearm. “Sure fucking do,” he muttered, but he was still frowning, clearly not wanting to admit that her plan might work.

And that was exactly what gave Loren the last of the confidence she needed. There was no fear left in her anymore—just adrenaline. “Okay—what does it feel like when you’re using your magic?” The white ring Arthur had made for her sat on her dresser. She grabbed it now and put it on. With a twist, the bodysuit shot out, covering her from head to toe, the magic blowing her hair back.

“It starts to hurt when you get close to your…limit,” Malakai said, every word tight with reluctance. That was good enough for her.

“Get your suit on,” she said, walking past him and out the door. “I won’t be able to save everyone, but I’ll be able to shield part of the city.”

He stopped her with a hand on her arm, pulling her around to face him. “Loren…” He held onto her, emotions warring in his gaze. “I can’t let you do this. I can’t be responsible for you dying.”

“And I can’t be responsible for them dying.” She pointed out at the city.

Malakai had nothing to say to that. But he kept holding onto her, quarreling with himself.

“I spent so many years being afraid,” Loren whispered. “I’m done with fear.”

“It’s not about fear,” he argued. “Sometimes it’s smarter to know when to run.” She knew he was trying to save her, knew he must’ve made an agreement with Darien. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—leave.

“Do you want to walk away from here knowing they’ll die?” she asked him.

He frowned. “Of course not.”

“Then let’s go.”

It took him a minute, but he finally loosened his grip and sighed. “Lead the way, Blondie.”

116

The Tunnels

YVESWICH, STATE OF KER

Darien bolted through the underground chamber, away from the Well bellowing out its ancient, horrible song. Every wave of magic it released raked along his bones like claws and set fire to his blood.

“Faster!” he shouted. He kept his pace slower than the others’, hanging back just enough to ensure Roman, Tanner, and Jack would make it out. They had minutes if they were lucky—minutes to put distance between themselves and the replica. Enough for their bodysuits to have a chance at saving their asses.

They had almost reached the mouth of the tunnel when Darien caught sight of a blinking red light above the archway. He scanned the ledge and crevices as he ran, his stomach dipping the moment he spotted the wires and the bulk of cylinders that had no business down here.

“GET BACK!” Darien roared. The others skidded to a stop, shouting out questions.

Darien swept his magic into a shield of protection just as the explosives went off—

And the tunnel collapsed right before their eyes.