Chapter Forty-Five
Bursting from the apartment building, Isla ran, her skirt tangling around her legs.
Her hand slipped from Andrew’s grasp and she stumbled to the ground, crying out as a projectile clump of dirt bashed her shoulder.
She turned her head just in time to see Edmund drop back from the lead.
He pivoted, hand glowing white, and unleashed a bolt of lightning from his palm.
The wind whipped around them, rattling iron railings and sending shadows dancing across pointed archways. Gargoyles glared from every ledge, their eyes glinting in the torchlight as though mocking the frantic quartet.
Andrew helped her to her feet, positioning himself at her side, Juliette on the other. Edmund moved in front, forming a protective barrier. Her fear spiked when she saw that they were outnumbered two to one, men’s faces hidden beneath balaclavas.
The scent of rain-soaked stone mixed with scorched magic was sharp and metallic. Lights flickered into existence on both sides—fire, ice, lightning—and made the darkness feel eerie as each prepared for the clash to come.
Edmund raised his hands, and a powerful wind whipped up the already turbulent British weather, summoning the wind—thunder and lightning crashed across the sky, and Isla felt her whole body tremble in fear.
The air thickened, charged with static and primal energy. A low rumble built like the overhead expanse was growling. Then, along with a loud crack of thunder, wind exploded into an organized circular motion.
A cyclone tore through the courtyard, roaring to life with impossible force—spiraling upward as it whipped around the six masked men.
One by one they were lifted from the floor, limbs flailing.
The air burned cold and electric, the noise deafening.
It was surreal for Isla to be this close to such raw power and not be affected by it. Edmund’s control was astounding.
“Andrew!” Edmund’s voice cut through the chaos, commanding and fierce. “Get the women away! I’ll hold them off for as long as I can, but I cannot keep this up for long!”
Lightning flickered in the air around him, chasing across his broad shoulders like silver fire. Isla felt her stomach twist—she could sense the strain in the wind, the wild energy Edmund was barely holding together. In that moment he looked like Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders.
She felt Andrew shift slightly, summoning a thick mist that swirled around her skirt, encasing them in a protective shroud, obscuring the vision of their pursuers to their exact location—if they could see anything as they spun around. Andrew was trying to shield their escape.
The powerful sound of thunder echoed loudly, then lightning flashed above, visible through the mist. How much longer could Edmund remain in control?
Lightning danced toward her and Isla screamed.
A gargoyle smashed down in front of her; the body was crushed and the face rolled toward her, its grotesque tongue hanging out, taunting and heightening her fear.
The storm intensified, dramatic and relentless as Edmund defended them against the group, and all she could do was stand there frozen, hiding in Andrew’s mist. She was vaguely aware of Juliette urging her to run, but she couldn’t. The storm—it was too much.
“Isla.”
Andrew’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Isla, you’re not alone. You can do this. You are an incredible woman. We need to go.”
With effort, she forced her legs into action. The first steps were slow, uncertain, but then her pace began to quicken.
She realized that sometimes fear could hold people captive, but movement—even the smallest action—was the first step to freedom.
The three of them moved toward the closest door.
They slipped inside, and the large wooden door closed behind them, muffling the roar of the storm outside.
The calmer atmosphere made Isla’s head clear considerably.
Her chest tightened with fear for Edmund.
He was a formidable soldier, but out there, he was alone, and she had selfishly left him.
“Edmund—we should go back,” she whispered, worry twisting her stomach.
“I’ll go back for him as soon as you’re at a safe distance,” Andrew said, slipping his hand into hers to pull her forward, “but we need to find an alternative route to reach George.”
Juliette’s gaze lingered on the closed door, her face pale and tense. “Keep her safe, Andrew,” she said. Before Isla could protest, Juliette darted back out the door and into the fray, her coat catching the wind like a banner before the door slammed behind her.
“Juliette!” Isla cried.
Andrew tightened his grip on her hand. “Isla, it’s you they want. It’ll be safer for them if we get you away from here.”
Nodding, she followed his lead, worry for her friends twisting her gut.
They were just about to round a corner when she heard the door open again.
Isla turned, thinking Juliette had returned, but a fireball streaked through the opening toward them.
Andrew thrust out his palm, conjuring a shimmering shield of ice.
The fire collided with it in a deafening sizzle, scattering sparks and steam.
He dragged Isla around the corner, his arm raised, the ice shield held firmly before him, like a knight of old guarding his charge while facing down dragon fire. They ran along the maze of corridors, the stone walls echoing their frantic footfalls. Isla heard men’s voices hot on their trail.
Jagged streaks of elemental power seared the air behind them. They started up a winding staircase, Andrew leaving a slippery coat of ice on each step as they passed. A sharp crash echoed behind them—one of their pursuers had slipped hard.
“I have a plan,” Andrew panted, hauling Isla two steps at a time up the stairwell. His breath came in ragged gasps. “Oh, I really wish I worked out more...”
Isla couldn’t help a brief, terrified laugh, the sound caught between fear and overwhelm. Her heart thudded as they climbed, and she thought of Juliette, racing back into danger to help Edmund. She swallowed hard as the storm raging outside mirrored the tempest inside her chest.
They climbed the spiraling staircase toward the tower above. Its walls and roof were made entirely of glass, offering a panoramic view of the university grounds and the darkened landscape beyond.
At the top, Isla’s eyes widened as the campus stretched out beneath them, flashes of intermittent lightning cleaving the storm-darkened sky. Andrew tapped one of the windows with the palm of his glowing hand. It cracked with a sharp ping, and a rush of wind whooshed through the opening.
In the distance, Isla could hear their pursuers gaining on them—they had a little time, but they were closing in. Andrew helped her out of the tower window and onto the roof. As soon as she stepped out, her hair whipped around violently in the storm.
A sculpted stallion reared before her, standing proudly on hind legs, every sinew and muscle carved with fierce precision, poised as if ready to leap into the storm-tossed sky.
She had seen this from the ground, but up close it was rather a magnificent sight.
She placed her hand on one of the stallion’s rearing forelegs and leaned forward, vertigo causing her to step back quickly.
“Andrew ... why are we up here?” she yelled out into the night, betraying more fear than she wanted.
He pointed. “Can you see? Right there—that’s the student’s accommodation block where George is waiting for you.”
Isla turned a horrified glare on him. “I can see that ... but we’re up here, in a storm, and he’s down there.
” Her stomach twisted and her mind immediately leapt to worst-case scenarios: He’s going to ask me to jump, isn’t he?
Or do something completely ridiculous and terrifying. And of course, I’ll have to do it.
“And how do you propose we get down to him? As far as I am aware, flying is not part of the Terra Summoner’s abilities.”
“No, you’re not going to have to fly—not exactly, anyway. I have an idea.”
Lightning again crackled overhead, illuminating the majesty of the gothic spires.
The wind tugged at her skirt and hair, sending chills down her spine.
She clutched Andrew’s arm, half for support, half in protest, and muttered under her breath, “Brilliant. Of course this is how it ends. I just wanted to teach my students about plants!”
Her eyes flicked down at the grounds below, then back to the distant building where she hoped George was waiting.
Andrew’s hands shot out, the shield now gone, tracing a path around the stallion’s rearing legs.
Once ice was solidly attached just above its hooves, his palms shone brighter as more ice grew from the secured spot, rapidly forming two huge stalagmite structures that extended and formed a path toward one of the buildings below.
The two ice branches grew thicker the further down they went.
With a shimmer they stretched across the courtyard, taut and gleaming in the stormy night.
Andrew continued to work on his invention. “I’m rapidly melting and refreshing the ice to make sure it won’t be too brittle.”
Too brittle? “Andrew, what mad, hairbrained idea is this? I mean, you’re a genius engineer—you literally make planes fly—but what on earth do you expect us to do with that?” She jabbed at the long extended icicle ... things ...
“Stand here,” he said calmly.
How could he be calm when she could hear distant footsteps getting closer?
He guided her beneath the ice and, with a sweep of his hands, created a solid ice swing beneath her.
Her hands grasped the cold chains, and her feet lifted off the ground as she drew in a startled breath, settling onto the seat.
It was like a child’s play swing, suspended by two loops that clamped securely around the ice ropes above.
“Andrew ... oh no—no, no, no, NO!”
“Just remember that I love you, and I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, his voice steady in the wind.
“You’re going to zip-line down to meet George.
I’ve thickened the ice gradually at the bottom, so you’ll start off quickly, but it will slow and then stop you before you reach the wall. You’ll be safe.”
“Don’t worry? I am at the edge of a tall building and you’re telling me not to worry! And what do you mean you’ll be safe—what about you?”
Andrew leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’ll catch up to you as soon as I can.”
With that, he pushed her off the side of the building.