Jack rolls to his feet as I get to mine. We circle each other, panting steam, dripping rain. He inches away, backing toward the footpath.
“I can help you, Doug. But we don’t have much time.”
“I am Time! I control it!” I swing the scythe. It hisses past his midsection, kissing the side of his coat.
“If you were in control, the world wouldn’t be coming apart. Admit it, you’re in over your head. You need help.”
“I don’t need a damn thing from you.”
Jack widens the circle, increasing the space between us. His eyes are hungry on the staff, like he’s torn between running and fighting for it. A thick cloud of fog passes between us. Jack sprints, disappearing inside it.
“No!” With a flash of my scythe, I stop time. The pain takes me to my knees. The smell of blood overwhelms every other scent as a thick, hot stream of it flows from my nose.
I stagger upright. Jack’s surrounded by mist, frozen midstride. Positioning myself in front of him, I release my hold on my magic. Jack hurtles toward me, his eyes flying wide as he skids to a halt. He falls at my feet, scrambling away from me, leaping back to avoid the scythe as it swings.
“How did you do that?” he pants.
“Where is she?” I spit blood, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
“Listen to me.” He holds out his hands as we circle each other, as if I’m some kind of feral creature he’s trying to cage. “That pain you’re feeling is the magic. It’s going to fight its way out, and when it does, it’s going to kill you. And if you don’t give up some of the power, it will probably destroy all of us. The Observatory. The Seasons. Everyone.”
I laugh at his assumption that I care. “If I’m going down, Sommers, you’re all coming with me.”
I swing the scythe again, and this time, Jack runs.
56
Tattered and Swift
JACK
I haul ass into a patch of thick fog. Stitches pulling, muscles screaming, lungs on fire, my feet fly down the sloping path toward the northwest side of the park. Doug must be screwing with time. It’s the only explanation for the way he appeared right in front of me. No one can move that fast. But to do it again, he’ll have to spot me first. I stick to the dense white ribbons of mist, changing trajectory every few yards. The staff is heavy. It’ll only weigh him down. I just have to stay far enough ahead of him.
Doug screams my name. I don’t look back.
“Jack?” Chill’s voice in my ear is a light in the dark.
“I’m here,” I say in the short space between breaths. Fog and rain weave a heavy blanket over the park, obscuring the path ahead of me. I don’t know where the hell I’m going. With any luck, maybe Doug doesn’t, either.
“Did you get the staff?”
“No.”
The length of his pause makes me want to turn around. To go back and fix my mistake.
“Keep going,” Chill says. “It doesn’t matter. You’re doing great.”
But it does matter. Our whole plan depended on me taking the staff.
“Fleur?” I pant. “Where is she?”
“She’s here. She made it.”
The relief almost brings me to my knees. I hit flat terrain at the bottom of the hill and push myself faster. “Bring me home, Chill.”
“I’ve got you.”
“Jack!” I turn over my shoulder, nearly tripping at the nearness of Doug’s voice. The fog parts. Through it, I catch a flash of silver.
I lengthen my stride. “Doug’s right behind me.”
“How far?”
“A hundred yards, maybe.” I thought the staff would slow him down. That the fog would hide me. I’ve got to get off the path. Someplace he can’t see me so easily.
A stitch in my leg tears as I hurtle into a cluster of trees.
“No. Stay on the path. I need you in the open.” Chill sounds more confident about this than I feel.
“He’s too close.” I hop fallen branches, splashing through wet grass. “I won’t make it.”
“You’ll make it. Trust me.”
Fuck.
I veer back onto the path, feeling far too exposed, even in the dark. “I hope you’re right about this.”
“Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Don’t get me started.”
He barks out a laugh. “Bear left at the fork ahead of you.”
“What fork?” The city around the park is completely dark, not a light in sight, as if the entire power grid’s down. Suddenly, the path splits ahead of me. I veer left, my pace slowing as a cramp grips my side.
“Keep going, Jack. You can do this. Breathe through it. You’ve got a few miles left in you. You’re not home yet.”
“Sommers!” The wind carries Doug’s voice. It cracks on my name, tight with pain and rage, breathless from running. “I’m going to kill you!”
The wind bites my face, pushing me back by the shoulders. I shake rain from my eyes and see lights flickering at the edge of the park.
Not lights.
Flames.
“Do you see lights ahead of you?” Chill asks.
“Yes.”
“Head straight for them. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
I force myself into a sprint, shoes slapping puddles as I race toward the flickering fires ahead of me. Behind me, Doug’s footfalls grow louder.
Shapes emerge from the darkness, holding flames in their palms. Each time I pass one, another ignites in the distance.
My breath is loud in my ears.
“Keep going,” Chill says. “They’ve got you.”
“Who?” I breathe. “Who’s got me?”
A figure appears through the mist in front of me. I stumble as the shape of the scythe cuts through the fog.
“Shit, he’s in front of me!”
“Get down, Jack!” Amber shouts, somewhere ahead, to my left.
I duck at the telltale whoosh of a fireball soaring. An orange light hisses through the air like a comet. Doug dives left to avoid it, and I veer right, following the path and picking up speed. A crack spreads across the walkway in front of me. As I leap over it, the ground explodes in a spray of dirt. I look back when I don’t hear Doug’s feet behind me. Roots lash at his legs, holding him back. He roars, propelling a blast of wind toward the Seasons crouching in the trees.
The force of the gale blows me off the path. I risk another glance over my shoulder, but I don’t see Doug anywhere.
“Chill?”
“Keep moving! Look for the lights.”
I run toward the flashes of firelight ahead of me, skidding in the muddy grass as Doug emerges out of the fog.
His face is haggard. He’s breathing hard. Blood streams from his nose, staining his bared teeth. He starts toward me. I duck as a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky. Doug turns at the deafening crack as a tree collapses, knocking him down.
A voice shouts from the woods, “Move it, Jack!”
I break into a sprint. My feet find the path. A gate materializes through the fog ahead of me. Too high to jump. No way around it. I slam on the brakes, but my momentum’s too strong, and I brace for the inevitable impact. A tree groans to my left. A branch wraps around my waist, and I’m yanked off my feet, swooping upward as I’m tossed over the gate.
I fall on my face on the other side. An unfamiliar voice shouts through the fog, “Run, Sommers! I’ll buy you time.”
I push myself up and keep running, crossing a street.
“Where am I?” I ask, sucking wind.
“Just passed Crooms Hill,” Chill says. “You’re doing great. Only three miles to go.”
My chest feels like it’s going to explode. “Three miles? I can’t—”
“Don’t slow down, Jack. Just keep going. Follow the fires.”
They flash like runway lights in front of me. “Who are they?”
“A few Seasons we evacuated from the Observatory. We arranged an escort service for you. We thought you might need a little help.”
“Yeah,” I wheeze. “Help is good. Thanks.”
He gives a low chuckle. “Stick to the lights. They’ll guide you to the tracks.”
“What tracks?”
“They’re just ahead of you. Follow them west. Doug’s moving faster than we thought. You need to make it across Deptford Creek. If you can get across the bridge, I can slow him down.”
“The bridge? Sprinting across wet railroad ties in the dark? This is your plan?”
“It’s our best shot. You’re going to lure him into a bottleneck.” Chill stifles his microphone, muting his conversation with someone else. Sweat trails down my sides and my footsteps feel heavy. Everything feels too heavy. I slow, clumsily unzipping my jacket as I jog. My shoulder aches as I peel it off. Fishing the eye from its zipper, I tuck it into the pocket of my soaked jeans and toss the sopping jacket away from me.
The last flame gutters out as I reach the tracks.
The rails are dark, the shape of the raised ties hard to make out. The toe of my shoe catches on one and I pitch forward, my hands and knees coming down hard on icy metal.
“Jack?” Chill asks, a rising tension in his voice. “What happened? Why’d you stop?”
“I can’t . . .” I pant, the words caught in my raw throat. “I can’t run anymore.”
There’s a shuffle in my ear. The tense cadence of familiar voices. I bow my head, my chest heaving, my hands braced on the tracks. Rain streams over my neck and off the edge of my nose.
“Get up,” a voice says.
I lift my head, scanning the blackness in front of me, but the voice I heard wasn’t out there. It was inside me. In my ear. “Fleur?”
“If you love me, you will get up and get across that bridge. Now, Jack!”
I scramble to my feet, negotiating the tracks with careful heavy steps.
“You can do this,” she says. “Just focus on what’s ahead of you, and don’t look back.”
I anchor myself to the sound of her voice as I stumble over the ties. I want to tell her I love her. That if I don’t make it, I died trying. But I can’t catch enough air to utter the words. Every breath burns.
Rain slashes sideways across my face. Behind me, fire hisses through the air. A gale throws me off-balance, and I hold out my arms to steady myself.
I look down. “I’m on the bridge.”
“Don’t stop. No matter what happens, keep going.” Every word sounds tinged with worry.
“Sommers!” Doug’s voice booms behind me. I push myself faster, using my outstretched arms for balance to counter the wind. I hardly feel it where it cuts across my body. Rain forms a layer of ice on my skin. Maybe I’m too cold to feel anything. Maybe I’m already in shock. Doug won’t have a chance to kill me. Hypothermia will.
The track shakes. Despite Fleur’s warning, I look back. Doug. He’s on the bridge.
There are no trees to haul me over the creek. No fireballs to buy me time here.
“I’m not going to make it. Fleur, I—”
“Don’t you dare stop! Doug’s tired and he’s hurting. He’s using too much magic and he’s wearing himself down. Just get to the other side of the bridge. We’ll handle the rest.”
The wind stutters. I duck my head, pushing against it. My ice-crusted hair slaps against my cheek as the wind shifts, building momentum. The black surface of the water peels back from the side of the bridge, the wave receding to reveal the shadowy creek bottom underneath. A familiar howl reaches my ears . . . a funnel forming.
“Move your ass, Jack! Shit’s about to get ugly!” Julio. Behind me. Somewhere on shore.
I run, tripping over the ties. I don’t look back as the waterspout spins over the side of the bridge. The force of it pulls me, dragging me backward into its path. I lean forward, pressing ahead to get clear of it. Doug’s shouts are muffled in the roar. When I can’t resist the pull anymore, I throw myself down on the tracks, grab the rails, and hold on.
The spout rattles the track. I turn to look over my shoulder, certain I’m about to be crushed by a train. The funnel twists across the bridge, tearing up ties. I can’t see Doug behind it.
“Now, Jack! You have to move now!” Fleur’s voice is hard to hear over the crack of shattering wood. I push myself to my knees, then to my feet, my head bowed against the wind. A fire flickers in the distance.
I’m close.
The creek bed disappears. There’s a warehouse to my right. An access road to my left. The wind slows as the funnel disperses.
“Sommers!” Doug’s voice feels farther away. Beaten. Exhausted. Angrier than before.
I stumble off the tracks, following the light, veering left over the edge of the rail onto the narrow road that runs parallel to it. I tell myself to run, but my body won’t listen. I stagger through the deep puddles, clutching the cramp in my side, every labored breath burning.
A pair of blinding white headlights cut sharply toward me. I raise my arms, shielding my eyes as a car skids to a stop. The window rolls down.
“Get in.” Lixue grips the steering wheel, frowning at the train tracks. Her wipers slap at the rain, flinging water at me. “What do you need? An engraved invitation? Get in the damn car!”
“It’s okay,” Fleur assures me. “She’ll take you to Auggie’s. We’re on our way. I have to go. I’ll meet you there.”
My earpiece goes silent as the connection shuts down. I gape through the rain at Lixue. Her knuckles are white around the wheel.
“Last chance,” she says, inclining her head toward the bridge.
With a muttered swear, I slide into the seat behind her, glaring at her in the rearview mirror as I slam the door. Maybe she’ll think twice before she gets any bright ideas about killing me and dumping my body.
She throws the car in reverse, wet tires squealing as she backs down the access road. Her headlights cut through the fog. Doug parts it like a curtain, watching us from the end of the bridge as we speed toward Auggie’s house.
57
He Must Seek Me
DOUG
Lixue and I lock eyes through the open window as Jack ducks into the back seat of her car. I manage a few steps toward it before her car peels out. Dropping to my knees at the edge of the storm-beaten bridge, I clutch my side, watching her taillights shrink to the west.
“Stop,” I say, staggering off the tracks into the street. I shout to the sky, “Stop, stop. Stop!”
The silence of the wind is sudden and shocking.
Raindrops hang like crystals in the air, the sunrise brightening the sky behind them, silhouetting the trees. Their branches are frozen in place, bent by the storm. The churning creek is motionless under what’s left of the bridge, the white-capped waves still as stone.
Nothing moves but me.
I lumber through the rain, breathing through the crippling tightness in my chest. The more I use my magic, the worse it hurts. Every time I called on an element to fend off an attack, it only seemed to stoke a battle inside me. I glance inside a burn hole in my coat, wincing at the blistered flesh. My leg bleeds freely where a falling branch cut me, and there’s dirt in my eye, kicked up by the winds.
My insides feel battered as I walk toward Lixue’s car. I should have known. Should have sensed she’d already turned when she begged me to open the portals for the Seasons she’d led out of the Observatory.
Hissing with every step, I lean heavily on the staff. I don’t know how much longer I can hold time back.
If you were in control, the world wouldn’t be coming apart. . . . Admit it, you’re in over your head.
I shake myself as I approach Lixue’s car, determined to keep it together. I still have the staff. I still have the magic.
Jack’s face is a mask in the rear window. Lixue’s windshield wipers are frozen midstroke, the rain spraying up from her tires suspended in midair. I kick the side of her car, but my foot passes through it like a ghost.
I throw down my staff, pacing in front of her headlights and tearing at my hair.
I draw a heavy breath, surprised to find so many smells still hanging in the air: the exhaust from Lixue’s car, Verano’s cloying reek, the smoky moldering odor of his Autumn girlfriend . . . and something else . . . that brisk cold glimmer that had ridden the air at the clock.
It had come from Jack.
But how?
I close my eyes, tracking them by scent. Julio Verano is already a quarter mile away, headed west. Amber Chase isn’t far behind him.
Lixue and Jack, Julio and Amber . . . they’re all heading west. And I can guess exactly where they’re going—to find Fleur.
She must have changed directions inside the ley lines. If the others are heading west, she must have been diverted off the Meridian. And that’s a trail I can trace. There are only a handful of ley lines in all of London.
What I wouldn’t give to see the look on Jack’s face when he finds her, and me already there, waiting beside whatever stasis chamber they’ve managed to steal, holding her plug.
Clutching my side, I bend to recover my staff from the road and head west, my magic attuned for the electric hum underground. My cracked rib stabs my side with every step, and there’s a void—a strange stinging absence in my mind. I knew it the moment Fleur disappeared. Her magic tore itself from mine like a Band-Aid ripping free, leaving a raw, angry wound in its place.
I roam the frozen streets of Greenwich. I don’t know where I’m going. Only that I’m following the hum of a ley line. Blowing trash hangs in the air, mid-tumble. A fork of lightning glows in the sky. There’s not a soul in sight. Not a light shining on any porch or in any windows. And I wonder if this is what the world will feel like when it ends. If I’ll be the only one left.
The ley line converges with Julio’s and Amber’s scents. The farther west I go, the more the trajectories of their paths seem to align. I follow them through the empty streets toward . . . Peckham.
My feet go still as a conversation I had with Lixue just days ago comes barreling to the front of my mind.
Seasons of Chaos Page 33
