On Summer Street, the car rocked as people crowded near it. Eorla leaned forward. People filled the street between the concrete barriers on one side and buildings on the other. The car slowed to a crawl. A block ahead, tanks lined the Summer Street bridge as searchlights arced through the sky above them.
“Rand, please send ahead to the checkpoint and see if they can clear a path for us.” She leaned back with a sigh. “You need legal help, Connor. Unless you have truly important allies in the Seelie Court, you should consider Bastian’s offer.”
“You knew about that?” I asked.
“I know more about what Bastian knows than he will ever realize. His major flaw is a chronic habit of underestimating me,” she said.
“He’s an idiot,” I said.
She laughed. “Yes, I’ve told him so, many times. Do you feel that?”
A faint vibration trembled through the car, a sensation like a large truck or a train passing by. “We’re nowhere near a subway line,” I said.
On the bridge, National Guardsmen ran for a wall of sandbags on the Weird side of the channel. Danann security agents hovered over the command post on the downtown end of the bridge. The vibration increased to a rumble. The crowd shifted direction as nervous people sidetracked into the nearby alley. The solitaries who had been making their way to the bridge turned and began to run.
“Your orders, ma’am?” Rand said.
Eorla watched with confused interest as people streamed by. “This might be happening to get us through. Let’s see if they clear the way.”
The car rocked on its suspension and a fracture appeared in the road. Rand backed away, turning the car amid a sea of people. The car bounced as another large rumble filled the air. With a loud snap, the edge of the bridge shifted on its supports. My teeth rattled as the shaking increased. With a roaring rumble, the bridge buckled, chunks of concrete and stone bursting into the air. Soldiers scrambled as tanks slid off the crumbling pavement. With a slow shudder, the bridge collapsed into the river. Essence shimmered over us like a wave front.
“Troll work,” I said.
“Congress Street Bridge is gone, too,” Rand said. He wheeled the car around in the intersection and turned down A Street.
“Why the hell would trolls destroy the bridges?” I wondered aloud.
Eorla leaned toward her window. “I’m getting confused reports of fighting throughout the neighborhood.”
More National Guardsmen blocked the street two blocks ahead. As we approached, essence-fire cut across our path. Rand hit the brakes and spun the car.
“They are not responding to my sendings, ma’am,” Rand said.
Eorla’s gaze shifted back and forth as she watched the running crowd. “Let’s go to the power plant. Guild staff should be present there,” Eorla said.
“Guild staff just fired on us, Eorla,” I said.
She looked out the rear window. “They’re following orders. I’ll get us through at the plant.”
Eorla’s calm reactions impressed me. I supposed they shouldn’t have. She was an Old One, an eyewitness to more war and danger than I had ever seen or probably ever would. “You’re enjoying this,” I said.
She shook her head. “I don’t enjoy pointless bloodshed, Connor. The Guild will need to be held accountable for this.”
“The Consortium isn’t blameless,” I said.
She nodded. “True. The Consortium has its own crimes to answer for.”
Summer Street became impassable as the crowd changed direction again and streamed back toward the channel. Rand cut through an alley and headed down Old Northern toward the power plant. More fires had sprung up, whether set by angry residents or spread from existing ones, I didn’t know. It would be a long investigation when it was over.
“Ma’am, we have a problem,” Rand said.
Rand brought the car to a slow stop near B Street. Ahead, Old Northern ran into a gauntlet of fire. From the city’s World Trade Center on the left to a series of empty warehouses on the right, flames and smoke filled the air. Fire trucks hung back, but it didn’t look like they were going to make much difference if they got through. “Find a way around it, Rand,” Eorla said.
Glowing embers floated on the air, wind whipping them in a dance of orange lights. Rand backed the car. A single mote of yellow floated down, then dove toward us. It hit the windshield, popped inside, and plunged into my forehead.
D and Northern. Vize here. Need help.
Murdock. The essence faded with the message, but his body signature was unmistakable.
“Wait! Murdock’s up ahead there. We have to go through it,” I said.
Rand stopped the car and looked at Eorla in the rearview mirror.
Eorla’s eyebrows drew together. “We can’t risk it, Connor. We have to go around.”
I stared at her. “You said I’m free to go anytime. If we don’t go through, I will get out and walk through that fire if I have to.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, exposing the temper I knew she had. She shifted in the seat and leaned back. “Rand, I will bond the car. Drive through when I’m finished.”
His expression read disagreement, but he shifted his focus to the fire. Eorla closed her eyes and chanted. Pale blue essence welled out of her and spread through the car. The essence seeped through windows and doors, indifferent to the metal. When it surrounded us from end to end, Rand hit the gas.
We skidded on ice before the wheels caught. The car raced toward the wall of flame and pierced it like an arrow. The car rocked violently in the firestorm, the temperature spiking incredibly fast. Indigo cracks appeared in Eorla’s barrier, but she maintained her chanting. In a funnel of burning air, we shot out of the fire into a clear space. Rand slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a mass of people on the other side.
Eorla caught her breath. “That wasn’t as bad as I imagined it would be.”
Solitaires and the Dead battled in the street. Essence raked the air, streams and spikes of amber, burgundy, yellow, and white. Green streaks of elf-shot poured in from all sides, and the blue spark of essence bombs flashed and burned. Twisting and turning through the fighting, a sickly green fog with black mottling undulated. The Taint clung to everyone, goading them, boosting their own essences and overwhelming their minds. The malevolent essence glowed in the faces of the Dead, bonded to their body signatures like a second skin.
I flicked an eyebrow up. “I’m afraid to know what you imagined.”
36
A fire truck sat on the sidewalk. Several dozen humans used it as a vantage point—firefighters, police officers, and National Guardsmen. When the solitaries were not attacking the Dead, they kept their distance from the truck but took random shots at it. The humans were not shy about shooting back. Whenever anyone came too close, the firefighters directed high-pressure truck hoses to push them back. That would only last until the water ran out.
“Do you see your friend?” Eorla asked.
The sight lines from the backseat made it difficult to see much of anyone. “I have to get out.”
Behind the car, the firestorm roared with fury. The night sky lit red and orange with the reflected glow. Eorla opened her door and got out.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “The fire’s advancing. Rand, get her out of here.”
Rand got out, but Eorla raised her hand. “I’ll keep the fire back while you find your friend.”
I was about to turn away, when Brokke’s words came back to me. Something was going to happen to her because of me. He was sure of it. “Eorla, you don’t have to do that. Get out of here. I’ll find my own way.”
She smiled. “And I, mine. I want to ensure that you are safe before we part.”
“Rand,” I said.
“Rand”—Eorla interrupted—“answers to me alone. Go, before neither of us survives this.”
She raised her arms and chanted, a fierce neon green essence welling up in her hands. I locked eyes with Rand. “If things go wrong, you make sure she gets out whether I’m back or not. No matter what she says, got it?”