The drone would be the power behind Eli’s spell. But there would be no spell if Eli had a concussion. Hard to concentrate on spell casting when your brain was bleeding.
One more step.
Eli stopped, just outside my reach. Began drawing the spell.
My heart was pounding. I’d drawn that spell a hundred times before. I’d taken people’s memories away; I’d taken away their ability to use magic. I knew what kind of concentration went into it.
Closing was not as easy as it looked. As a matter of fact, being a Closer was one of the hardest positions to hold in the Authority.
But I had no doubt that Eli could pull it off. In his right mind. Refreshed.
I gripped the cup, waited for that moment in the spell where he would have to draw the doorway, the opening between his mind and mine. It was a door that only the caster had the key to. I watched his movement so I would know his signature, know his exact lines and style of casting this spell.
So I would know the shape of the key that could set me free.
There. He set the lock, drew the key.
I surged to my feet. Swung with every ounce of strength I had.
Just as the spell triggered.
Just as magic broke free like water from a dam, blasting out from the drone outside the bars and into Eli’s spell.
The mug slammed into Eli’s head with a satisfying crack.
His spell opened its maw and swallowed my mind.
But not before I saw Eli fall, bloody. Unconscious.
And then I was nothing but what the magic wanted me to be.
I was no one.
Chapter 14
SHAME
The problem with falling is that there is always something to hit at the bottom.
I hit a fist.
Or rather, a fist hit me. Pounded my chest, broke a rib. Took another shot. Broke two.
Holy shit, that hurt.
Someone was yelling, cursing. Taking my name in vain. I didn’t know who I’d pissed off, but there wasn’t nobody having any fun here today.
“Fuck,” I gasped, “you.”
The beating paused. A woman’s voice filtered through the hell in my head.
“Shame? Are you alive? You’d better stay with me, you son of a bitch, or I will carve you a new one.”
Sunny. Sounded like Sunny. I wanted to open my eyes to find out, but it was everything—and trust me when I say everything—I had just to fill my lungs with enough air it could wheeze out of me.
Where the hell was I?
“Just keep breathing,” she said as if that was an easy thing. “Dash! Get your ass in here. He’s alive.”
I thought she might be jumping the gun a bit on that one. I wasn’t even remotely close to alive yet. Hell, the jury was still out on breathing.
“Jesus,” Dash said. “Get this under his head. Here.”
There was some movement around me, but I still couldn’t see Jack, and couldn’t feel squat.
“Hello?” yet another voice called out. Took me a second to place it. Finally got it. Cody Miller. The one guy I always got into the most trouble with back in the day. “You two find anything? What are you doing?”
“Calling nine-one-one,” Davy said.
“Don’t bother,” Cody said. “They wouldn’t know what to do for him.”
“He’s dying, Cody,” Dash said.
“No,” Cody said thoughtfully. “I think he’s way past that.”
“Can you help him?” Sunny asked. “Cody, do you know of some way to help him?” She sounded angry, but also a little worried. I might have thought it was sweet if I didn’t also know she’d been the one slugging me repeatedly in the chest just a second ago.
Where the hell was I?
The lungs were working slightly better, though I couldn’t get more than a mouthful of air down into either one of them. The rest of me either was numb or felt like crap.
Time to give the eyes a try again.
One, and a two . . .
Got it. Kind of. Was rewarded with blurry light. Then Dash’s face, screwed up with concern, hovering over me. “I’m calling nine-one-one.”
“Give him a minute,” Cody said. “He’s almost back.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dash said.
“I am saying, he’s almost got it,” Cody said. “The hang of living. Well, when I say living . . .”
Shame? Eleanor floated over from across the room. Remember why you’re here. You have to live. You have to save the world, save Terric, save . . . everything. This is what you came back for. So live.
There was something different about her, something I should remember. Oh, right. She was free. She was no longer tied to me.
That’s right, she said. I took the jump with you. But I’m here on my own terms now. You need to draw on life, on something, Shame, or you’re corpsing out.
“Go,” I wheezed, trying to warn her, “away.”
Dash backed up. So did Cody. But Eleanor didn’t move away quick enough.
The hunger inside me was mindless, wild. Any life would do—it just had to be close to me.
No. Not Eleanor. Not again.
I fought for control, desperate not to hurt her.
She didn’t have much life in her, but she was an energy. And she was in the hunger’s reach.
No!
The magic in me, Death, was too strong. It snapped out, wrapped around her neck, pulled her down to me, and drank her up.
I heard her scream. Tried to let go of her, tried not to tie her soul to me.
And then I couldn’t hear anything anymore because everything in me caught fire at the same time, all nerves firing, screaming. I’d be joining the chorus, only I didn’t have air for it, and was pretty sure I was rattling around on the floor—kitchen floor—seizing like a mother.
Good times.
Something turned out the lights. Maybe just the overload of pain. Maybe Sunny punched my clock, bless her violent little heart.
I woke up in a bed—my bed. I was naked, clean sheets around me, a pillow under my head. Didn’t want to move and ruin the moment, but my face itched like a million ants were swarming over it.
I lifted my right hand to try to push some of the ants off the side of my face. My hand didn’t make it that far.
“Hey, Shame,” Cody said from somewhere to my right. “I thought you might be waking up soon. Welcome back.”
I gave up on making my hand do what I wanted it to do. “I feel like shit.”
“You should. You died.” Cody was sitting in the chair, his feet on the wooden crate of ammo I used as a nightstand.
Right. I thought I’d heard something about that. Seemed to remember there being a bar or something. “Swell,” I whispered. “How long?”
“As near as we can tell, you haven’t been breathing for a week. The bullet holes look at least that old. Well, they did. Since you came to, you’ve healed. Well, you aren’t bleeding and all the bullets were expelled, which isn’t quite the same as healing, but it did seem to help you breathe better. You look like hell on a half shell, though.”
I heard him, I really did. But my brain simply refused to process most of what he was saying.
I’d died. Why didn’t I stay dead?
Eleanor floated up behind him. She was almost completely see-through. A black rope around her throat tied her to me.
No. I didn’t mean to . . . not again.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “God, I’m so sorry.”
She flipped me off with both hands. Then she floated as far away from me as she could reach, arms crossed over her chest, turning her back toward me.
I’d seen her like that so many times over the years. She was angry. At me.
And she had every right to be. I hadn’t meant to consume her again, to tie her soul to me. But I hadn’t been strong enough to stop it from happening either.