CHAPTER NINETEEN
I rushed down the stairs as fast I physically could, practically leaping from landing to landing.
Meanwhile, Larimar’s magic felt like it was sizzling beneath my skin.
I hoped that just meant it was waiting, ready to be put to use, and not that it was doing some kind of irreparable damage to my body.
Larimar had forewarned me that it was a possibility, especially considering that I had had exactly zero training with this.
There were no Enforcers posted in the stairwell, and when I burst through the door to the first floor and startled only two of them, standing by themselves in the long hallway, I realized that most everyone must have been called to handle the situation—the “battle,” as Larimar had referred to it—with the Strangers.
The door the two men were guarding obviously led to the storage room, because it was almost directly across the hall from the room we were in yesterday, as Bergam had said.
I held out both hands this time, focusing on releasing energy from both. Moisture began to build on my palms as if they were sweating. Then water began pouring steadily from them, creating two puddles on the carpet.
“What in the actual fuck are you doing?” one of the Enforcers asked, starting to walk in my direction.
I wanted to tell him his guess was as good as mine. What the hell was I doing wrong?
Then just as with Bergam, I felt something like click. Like Larimar’s magic and my intentions had finally found one another. A cacophony of creaking and snapping filled the hall. Thick tendrils of ice climbed the two Enforcers.
Unlike with Bergam, genuine shock, horror, and fury paraded across their faces.
“You fucking bitch!” one of them snarled as I pulled another shirt out of my bag and stuffed it in his partner’s mouth. I shoved a third shirt—my last one—in his mouth as he was gearing up to hit me with another slur.
I looked down into my bag, already knowing what I would find there.
What was left of the bread that I had devoured earlier.
A reusable bottle of water. And no more clothing, shirt or otherwise.
If I encountered more Enforcers, I was going to have to cover them in ice fully and hope that it melted before they ran out of air.
I pushed between the two Enforcers trapped in their icebergs and tried the handle to the storage room. Unsurprisingly, it was locked.
I took a deep breath and again summoned Larimar’s magic to my palms. Having used my right hand several times now to expel it, the burning sensation was becoming more intense.
Like the circulation had been cut off to my hand and forearm, but worse.
My left hand wasn’t far behind. As I focused my breathing, my energy, my mind, my soul on the ice that was now forming over the handle and the lock within, a dull ache began to spread from the back of my neck to the front of my head.
“If you feel a headache setting in,” Larimar had said. “It means you are doing too much, too fast. You are still a human wielding another being’s magic. Your body still has limitations.”
I didn’t have time to care about limitations. I steeled myself.
There was a screechy, grinding, crunching sort of noise that seemed to be from metal bending in ways that it shouldn’t.
Gritting my teeth, I focused on what I wanted the ice to do next. I curled my fingers into a fist, willing that physical motion to guide the ice.
I could have cheered when it did.
Clouds of steam began to rise from the surface of the ice. And then the surface became damp. Melting.
The ice was still dissipating into liquid water when I shoved the door open.
And there he was.
“Kieran,” I breathed.
He was sitting against a wall, hands still bound behind his back. His legs were straight out in front of him, his ankles also bound. Tears of relief welled in my eyes as I observed that his chest was rising and falling. He was breathing.
Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. He was alive. Kieran was alive.
But the tears of relief turned to tears of horror when I saw that his injuries were endless. It seemed there was no part of his body that wasn’t covered in dried blood and the beginnings of bruises.
His eyelids fluttered open. Two dull gray orbs. Then they snapped shut, as if holding them open was too painful. His dry, pale lips moved as if forming words, but no sound came out.
I stepped closer, into the room.
A violent wave of nausea exploded in my gut, and the room pitched as if on a wild sea.
I heard an audible smack and felt a corresponding jolt of pain as I hit the sealed concrete floor, landing on my right side.
“Wards,” a voice choked nearby. If Kieran weren’t the only other person in the room, I never would have imagined that hoarse sound had come from him.
My head was spinning wildly. I willed Larimar’s magic to do something. Anything. But I could practically feel it sputtering as the burning sensation in my palms died.
I had to get Kieran out of there. There was no other option. If I didn’t pull myself together, we were both going to die. And I could make peace with my own death, but not his.
I squeezed my eyes shut and sat up, trying to orient myself. The nausea writhed in me like a great beast. Like the Leviathan, thrashing in the seas as it battled the Strangers. I barely managed to aim my head away from myself as I vomited.
I was still coughing up thick saliva, blessedly moving toward dry heaves, when I became aware of a shuffling, scraping sound.
I allowed myself a quick look before squeezing my eyes shut again.
Kieran had managed to get up onto his knees and was dragging himself slowly in my direction.
With each movement, he exhaled sharply through gritted teeth.
I repeated to myself again that I had to get him out of there, bringing my mind back to the task at hand. At any moment, someone could see what I had done to the two Enforcers just outside the room, and it would be over for us.
I raised onto my knees. If Kieran could manage it in his state, I could, too.
I braced a hand on each knee, forcing air into my lungs even as I gagged.
I stole another look, barely peeling my lids from one another, and saw Kieran was almost within arm’s reach.
This “storage room,” whatever it had once been used for, was compact.
In fact, it couldn’t have been much bigger than my bedroom.
We could do this. We could escape.
I extended my arm out in front of me, feeling for Kieran. It nearly dropped reflexively the moment it was raised, overcome with a sickening fatigue. I forced it to stay aloft with everything that I had. Then I pushed my eyelids open again.
Kieran was close. So close. Seeing that gave me a burst of strength.
I fell forward, bracing myself on all fours, and extended my right arm again. This time, my fingertips brushed against the fabric of his shirt. Whatever tattered scraps were left of it, anyway.
I yanked on the fabric, and he fell forward into me.
We were collapsed on the floor of a storage room, him covered in blood and me—despite my best efforts—likely covered in vomit, both of us struggling to hang on, but I had him.
And that was everything.
I leaned back as far as I could manage, bringing him with me, and began dragging us back toward the threshold.
This would have been a difficult task even without the wards to weaken me.
Kieran was taller and heavier than I was, and I didn’t have much upper body strength.
But I could feel him moving against me, trying as best he could to help push us closer to the door.
Each movement was minuscule, but we were making progress.
My left hand was on his shoulder, wrapped across his back. My right hand was on the door frame. I flailed my arm backwards, my shoulder straining in its socket. And then my fingertips were touching carpet. My whole hand was touching carpet.
This power was new, but when the burning sensation returned to my palm, it was already like an old, welcome friend.
With every ounce of strength I had left, I flung myself backward, pulling Kieran with me.
At the same time, I aimed my hand at the wall to the right of the doorway.
The awareness of the connection snapping into place was instant this time.
Thank fuck.
I blasted the wall with a torrent of water so intense it catapulted us past the two Enforcers and across the hallway. My back slammed against the opposite wall so hard that it knocked the wind out of me.
I opened my eyes fully, grateful to be able to do so, and saw the two Enforcers still soundly trapped in their ice bindings at the door. Even with their mouths stuffed, I could tell their jaws were hanging open. Their eyes were almost comedically wide.
I couldn’t tell if it was the sight of them or hysteria that made this the funniest thing I had ever seen. My diaphragm relaxed and my grateful lungs filled with air, only to have it escape again as I burst into laughter.
“What in the hell did you just do?” Kieran’s voice was still raspy but less pained. He raised up to look at me. In the midst of his battered face, his eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Larimar’s power,” I managed to choke out. I was laughing so hard that I could feel tears forming. For the first time in a long time, they were welcome tears.
“Larimar’s power,” he repeated.
I could only nod, beyond speaking.
Kieran burst into laughter along with me, his body pitching forward so that his forehead leaned against mine. But his laughter was cut short by a sharp intake of breath.
“Are you okay?” I asked quickly, all humor vanishing in an instant.
“Could be worse,” he gritted out. “Actually, I was worse until you got us out of there. Those wards were no joke.”