Chapter 27 #4
But there had been enough of a pause for Hallie and the zauber to react.
She raised what little magic she had left, the zauber in her pocket screaming fury and pain as both of them drew on almost non-existent reserves of energy.
Holding a defence against the attackers at Zurine’s apartment had been agony.
This was worse. There wasn’t enough for a shield.
Even as she reached for her magic, she knew she couldn’t hold a shield.
All she could do was deflect. So she sent the bullets flying sideways, away from their targets, so that the lethal rounds slammed into the vast expanse of tempered glass.
Even though she wasn’t trying to hold back the assault, she could still feel every single bullet as a stab into her skin, chest constricted, breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
She was on the floor, unable to spare the energy to even hold herself upright, and felt someone move nearby.
Girard, she was quite sure. She heard the steady cadence of gunshots all around her as the investigators fired back, and shouts from Peredur, calling all the members of the Conclave and their aides to huddle together as close behind Hallie as they could.
She felt another person’s magic slide over her, easing some of the pain, and realised Cotovatre was there as a bit of healing crept through her body, enough to let her draw a deep, horrible breath.
Then Emmet was there, too, his long fingers curling around her wrist, helping her reinforce the magic, the deflection, to stop the bullets from hitting them or anyone else.
It couldn’t last. Hallie knew it couldn’t last. She was almost out of energy, a dark void opening in her mind. The zauber was all but gone, and even Emmet was fading in her senses, the fingers wrapped around her wrist cooling rapidly.
“Get everyone out,” she said to Girard. Or tried to. She thought the words were too loud in her ears but she couldn’t be sure that any sound came out.
The world was slowing around her, breath harsh in her ears, the sounds of gunfire impossibly loud.
Then there was more gunfire. Different. Not the same weapons.
She knew these new weapons. She’d heard them before.
They came with booted feet, moving across the marble floor of the Conclave chamber.
She knew the pattern of those feet as well.
Not more enemies. Relief made her weak. As if from a great distance she heard familiar voices giving orders in calm, controlled tones.
She couldn’t make out the individual words or voices, just knew that they were not hostile. There to help.
The bullets she’d been struggling to deflect, to send flying into the glass window, slowed and stopped and a sob lodged in her throat at the abrupt absence of more pain.
Shockingly hot fingers wrapped around her other wrist and squeezed gently.
“Hallie, you can stop now. The tactical team is here. You saved us. You can stop now.” Girard’s voice was low, urgent.
The words made no sense at first, but he kept saying them until somehow they penetrated and she understood them.
Hallie let go of the shield with a sigh of relief, flopping onto her back, trying to breathe.
Just breathe. Why was breathing so hard?
Everything was purple and black and grey and everything hurt from her toes to the top of her head.
And there was a great, yawning void beside her where something living and vital should have been.
She heard gasps around her and managed to get her stupidly heavy eyelids open and roll her head to see what the fuss was all about and managed a gasp of her own.
Emmet was lying on the ground beside her.
In his natural form, the hochlen disguise stripped away, his silky white hair spread around his head like a halo, pale green skin lifeless.
It didn’t look like he was breathing. Cotovatre was kneeling next to him, cradling his head in her hands, and crying ugly, heartbroken tears that sounded like they were coming from the depths of her soul.
A stabbing pain ran through Hallie and a guttural sound forced its way out of her from the very depths of her being. Not Emmet. No. He couldn’t be gone.
The zauber at her hip, the barest flicker in the dark and purple shadows, stirred and Hallie could sense the pain and effort as it formed a single thought and sent it to her.
It wasn’t words but Hallie understood the meaning.
Hallie and Emmet were both dying, their magic stretched too thin and too far.
The zauber might be able to save one of them. But only one.
“Emmet,” Hallie whispered, the choice easy in the face of Cotovatre’s agony and the good that Emmet brought to the world.
The zauber faded from her mind, accepting her choice, and Hallie saw and felt a tiny spark of energy transmit from the artefact to Emmet.
It was barely there. But it was enough, just enough, to send breath into Emmet’s body and jolt his heart into starting again.
He opened his eyes, looking up at Cotovatre, and the sweetest smile bloomed on his face.
Hallie turned away from the private moment, finding Girard’s face above her, his face too pale and furrowed with concern. She tried to smile, tried to speak, but couldn’t. The black and purple pools all around her were too strong and she fell down into them.