Chapter Forty-Eight
Andrew had to get to Isla.
Juliette lay unconscious on the boat, Jimmy hunched over her, shielding her with his body. Edmund was still firing off bursts of lightning, but the infernal punt kept spinning, and he was looking greener by the minute.
He and George managed a few shots of their own, keeping the Aetherians on the bank ducking behind their mounds of earth. For a few moments, pandemonium reigned, and Andrew poured every ounce of strength into staying alive. It was total carnage.
But Isla...
He couldn’t stop the other Aqua. No Aetherian could completely halt another’s elemental flow—their energies were like opposing currents, pushing but never quite canceling out. What he could do was counterbalance it.
If the enemy was spinning the water clockwise, he could create a countervortex—equal force, opposite direction. Physics in motion—all he needed was precision.
He steadied his breath, feeling the pull of the water beneath the punt. “All right, then,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Hold the line, gentlemen—once this punt stops spinning, they’re done for.”
Closing his eyes for half a second, Andrew reached down through the chaos—not just the surface churn but the deeper undercurrent. The enemy’s Aqua had spun the water clockwise, a vortex of brute force, wild and erratic. He could feel the torque pulling against the boat, dragging it off-balance.
So he answered it with calculated accuracy. His palms glowed an icy blue as he sent his own current spiraling the other way. Pressure met pressure; current met countercurrent. The water heaved once, violently, before beginning to level out.
The punt shuddered beneath them, spinning slower now as the centrifugal drag eased. A fine mist sprayed up from the clash of energies before it finally settled into a steady, wavering rhythm.
“Got you,” Andrew breathed, voice low and taut. His arms trembled from the effort, but they were steady. “Now, hold.”
He felt the punt rock as Edmund moved quickly to take advantage of the now-still vessel.
The detective lifted both palms to his chest, his hands glowing, and then he pushed out with the force of a stalled lorry finally jolting into motion.
A powerful gust of wind roared away from them, knocking the four men on the bank flat on their backs.
“Go after Isla,” he rasped.
Andrew ran, causing the river ahead of him to freeze in places where his feet touched the surface so he didn’t sink into the cold river. He still felt a little wobbly from all the spinning, but speed drove him forward.
Once on land, he darted between the fallen enemy, one man trying and failing to grasp his ankle.
His breath came fast, his pulse hammering as he sprinted into the trees—and then his heart nearly stopped.
Ahead, Isla moved with unnerving calm, her gaze fixed on a man poised to strike her.
She wasn’t attempting to hide or block his attacks.
Why wasn’t she trying to fight him? Time seemed to slow, every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig magnifying the threat.
Andrew raced toward her, knowing that the man’s strike would reach her any moment.
He dove at her to close the distance. Lightning sizzled past his back, thankfully missing Isla as they fell, though it slightly singed him, making his hair stand on end.
He twisted midair and managed to break her fall .
.. mostly. His bony back protested loudly as it slammed into the ground and he let out a squeak, more like a startled little girl than the grunt of a hero.
He felt exhausted; he wasn’t sure how much he had left to give.
He lifted his hand, sending bolt after bolt of ice streaking toward the Ventus, his fury at the man who had nearly harmed his love fueling every strike. The attacker crumpled to the ground.
“Andrew?” Isla’s voice came, soft, as if she were emerging from a fog.
He helped her to her feet just as a Terra with glowing green palms advanced.
Andrew unleashed a cascade of water, drenching the man under a waterfall, the best he could manage while keeping Isla steady.
Then he encased the two of them in a shimmering igloo of ice, creating a safe haven around her.
He drew her close, their breaths mingling in the cold air.
“Isla, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” she murmured, shivering. “I just need a moment. I remember thinking the Ventus was manipulating my thoughts ... It all felt like a good idea, to, you know—hand myself in to keep you all safe.” She shuddered. “The feeling was so overwhelmingly powerful.”
He brushed damp strands of hair from her face. “I’m so sorry. It was awful to watch. And it would never be a good idea to lose you.”
Isla stepped back slightly, her gaze sharpening. “What about Juliette? Is she all right? I heard her scream.”
“She was unconscious when I left. Jimmy was trying to revive her.”
“We have to help.”
Andrew nodded. He didn’t want to take her back out there, but they couldn’t hide—his ice shelter would not stop the Terra he had just drenched or the other Aetherians from the bank. He drew a deep breath, squeezing her hand.
“We can do this, Isla. Together.” He heard the crack of emotion in his voice. “But if anything happens, know that through every lifetime, my heart will find yours.”
She looked at him. “And my heart will always be waiting. It took me a while to figure out that we are good together, and it’s taken until this moment to truly believe that death cannot stop what we have.
We’re Fated.” She nodded her head, indicating the outside world.
“Shall we head out into the melee together? Just because I have accepted that we will find each other again in the next life doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight for our chance at happiness in this one. ”
He leaned in and gave her a short fervent kiss. Pulling back, he looked at the incredible woman before him.
For a heartbeat, the world fell still, the tension hanging in the cold air. Then he let the ice around them melt, causing a muddy puddle on the rich English soil beneath his feet. He stepped forward with Isla at his side, ready to face whatever came next.