He flashed another orb—yellow this time, and even squishier-looking than the green one—and pitched it toward the Neverseen like a curveball.
Sophie braced for an explosion. But the golden blob deflated the second it touched the white energy, spluttering around like a wild balloon before winking out with a shower of glitter.
Ruy laughed. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“How about this?” Dex shouted, and Sophie pivoted to watch him throw what looked like a handful of Hershey’s Kisses. But these were no candy—the small silver blobs latched onto the force field and unleashed some sort of sonic pulse that made the white energy ripple and spark.
“Eh,” Ruy said, waving his arms to thicken their shield. “You would’ve been better off bringing along your Shade.”
“Nah, he’d be no match for me,” Umber argued. “He lacks proper training.”
Ruy shrugged. “He’s still the only one they have with any real potential.”
“Then why do you keep coming after me?” Wylie asked, pressing his hands together and forming a beam of light that was the same deep blue as his eyes.
He slashed it like a sword, and Sophie’s heart swelled with hope as it sliced through the force field like butter, making the white energy blink away with a crackle of static.
But the second the shield disappeared, Ruy had another one in place. “You realize I can do this all day, right?”
Wylie sliced the new dome with another blue beam. “So can I!”
Sophie wanted to believe him—but sweat was pouring down the strained lines on his face. And the next gadget Dex hurled only kicked up a little dust.
“I’m done with this!” Umber shouted, launching shadow spears at both of them.
Lovise tackled Dex to save him from being hit, and they both tumbled across the dunes, rolling out of sight as Wylie formed a red orb around himself—and this time the light held strong when the shadows landed.
“Interesting,” Gethen said, adjusting his ugly hat. “Weren’t you just calling us cowards for shielding ourselves?”
“You lower yours, I’ll drop mine,” Wylie offered, forming a green orb with each of his hands. “We’ll settle this right here.”
“And you’ll lose,” Gethen warned. “Your little tricks will never be strong enough—no matter how hard you’ve been practicing. Look at the state of your friend, if you don’t believe me.”
Wylie’s eyes shifted to Sophie’s hand, and fear, fury, and pity flickered across his face.
“Same goes for you, boy,” Gethen added, his voice projected toward wherever Dex was currently hiding. “Technology will never beat natural ability.”
Wylie’s jaw clenched. “If you’re so sure about that, prove it.”
Umber sighed. “If you insist.”
She whispered something Sophie couldn’t understand, and her shadowy claws expanded, the darkness pouring out of her fingers and twisting into a short, thin strand that looked blacker than anything else Umber had formed.
Sophie realized it was an arrow the same moment Wylie dropped to his stomach to dodge—and it was a good thing he did, because his shield unraveled the second the darkness hit.
“That’s the problem with light,” Umber said as Wylie struggled to shield himself inside a purple orb. “It will always be weaker than shadows. No matter what you try.”
“It’s one of the great flaws of our world,” Gethen agreed. “We built everything around the lesser force because we were fooled by the shimmer and shine. But if we want to harness true power, we’re going to need to embrace darkness.”
“Like this,” Umber said, weaving another arrow from her shadow claws. She threw back her arm, aiming it toward Wylie, but halfway through the throw she pivoted and launched it at Fitz.
Sophie’s scream sounded like a death rattle as she watched the darkness slice through his force field and pierce his chest—then liquify and sink into his heart.
Dex’s shout sounded just as guttural. But then he was charging toward Umber and tossing another handful of his silver blobs—but not at her.
At Sandor’s force field.
Ruy spun to reinforce the bodyguard’s cage—which meant he wasn’t ready for Wylie to swipe a long blue beam toward Grizel and unravel her force field. Lovise lunged out of the dunes beside her, and together they sprinted for the Neverseen, while Wylie hacked at their shield and Dex hit it with silver gadgets.
But the female warriors only made it a few steps before a massive bolt of darkness blasted them both backward, sending them tumbling across the sand until they both fell very, very still.
Sandor roared.
Umber pumped her fist. “Two down—though I guess it’s three, since there’s no way the Vacker boy is going anywhere now that my shadows have seeped in.”
More darkness poured from the ends of her fingers, and she wove it into another eerie arrow. “Who’s next? How about you?”
It looked like she was aiming at Dex—and Wylie made another purple shield to cover him.
But the arrow blasted into Sophie’s mangled hand.
A sob broke free when the darkness sank into her veins, tearing up her arm like frozen fire, blazing past her elbow, over her shoulder, up her neck.
Flashes and shouts raged all around. But Sophie lost track of the battle. She lost track of herself as the shadows seared into her head and sank into her brain.
“Hang on!” Dex shouted.
She didn’t want to listen—she wanted to hide in the soft little nook in her mind where it was quiet and safe and far, far away from the pain.
But she sucked in a long breath, trying to slow her pulse as she shoved another Panakes blossom into her mouth and dragged her throbbing body back to her feet. Her head spun and her eyes watered, and when the world came into focus she found Dex and Wylie standing side by side in the center of a massive, blobby-green bubble. Both still looked strong and steady, but Wylie had a deep gash above his right eyebrow, and Dex’s left arm was twisted at an odd angle.
The Neverseen, meanwhile, were hiding behind yet another force field.
But at least they’d taken some hits. Ruy’s cloak was now missing a sleeve, and his exposed skin was covered in blisters. And Umber seemed to be favoring one of her legs.
Gethen’s lips were even swollen and bleeding as he shouted, “Enough! I don’t think you realize the predicament you’re in.”
He pointed to Fitz, whose face was now a terrifying shade of blue—the same shade that Sophie’s wounded right hand was turning.
“Those shadows you’re fighting are different,” Umber warned. “The longer they mix with your blood, the more they take over. You have about thirty minutes before you lose your arm—and half that before the Vacker boy’s dead. And don’t even get me started on what’s happening to that special little brain of yours.”
“Your goblins aren’t looking so good either,” Ruy noted.
They weren’t.
Sandor was at least on his feet, pacing around his glowing cage. But he was bloody and pale. And Grizel and Lovise still hadn’t moved.
Sophie stared at her blue-tinted fingers, feeling the truth in Umber’s words. This pain was different than the blood and the breaks—deeper and more defining, like everything the shadows touched was changing.
And they kept spreading with every heartbeat—the Panakes blossoms didn’t feel like they were helping.
“You have a choice to make,” Gethen said, flashing a smile streaked with red as he turned to Wylie. “Surrender now and leave with me while your Technopath brings the others to a physician. Or you can have your friends’ losses on your conscience while we drag you away.”
“Don’t do it!” Dex shouted, and Sophie tried to say the same. But the panic and pain choked off the words.
“How do I know you won’t hurt us?” Wylie asked.
Umber laughed. “We already have. Far more than you realize—or maybe Sophie does. You can feel the shift, can’t you? The way the darkness
is slowly remaking you?”
“You’re running out of time,” Gethen agreed. “And you’re in no position to bargain. But since I find these sorts of standoffs to be rather tedious, let me be clear: I wanted to locate Wylie—and I have. So I have no more need for anyone else.” His eyes fixed on Wylie’s. “I’m willing to let your friends go if you come peacefully. And all I need from you is information. Once I have it, you’ll be free to go as well.”
“Right,” Dex snorted. “After you torture him.”
“Telepaths have no reason to resort to such dramatics,” Gethen argued. “I can find the memory I need in a matter of minutes.”
“What memory?” Wylie demanded. “I already told you—I wasn’t there when my mom made her final leap!”
Gethen wiped his bloody chin. “Yes, I know. I was there.”
Wylie flinched at the words. And even with the shadows dimming her brain, Sophie realized . . .
He was facing his mother’s murderer.
If the story Lady Gisela told her was true, Fintan sent Gethen to do some sort of mind trick to break Cyrah’s concentration as she tried to leap home, causing her to fade away—right in front of her son.
Wylie’s hands crackled with threads of light as he stalked to the edge of his green bubble. “If you knew I wasn’t there, why did you keep calling me a liar during my interrogation?”
Gethen sighed. “I didn’t. That’s the problem with compartmentalizing information. Fintan and Brant only had certain pieces of the story, because they weren’t supposed to be focusing on your mother at that point. But Fintan adjusted the timeline when he took over—and I wasn’t around to fill him in on the many ways he was mistaken. So now I’m trying to get us back on track—and adjust for Vespera’s additions. Which means I need to know what your mother hid from us—and before you claim that she never told you, ask yourself this: Have you ever noticed any gaps in your memories? Any details that seem a little fuzzy?”
Wylie pressed his lips together.
“That’s what I thought. Cyrah was no fool. She knew anything she told you would put you in danger. But she also knew that something might happen to her if she chose to cross us, and then the information would be lost. If she’d written it down, I would’ve found it by now. So she must’ve had one of her Telepath friends hide her secrets deep in your head.”
“That’s all just a theory!” Sophie managed to grit out as she turned to Wylie. “If he can’t find what he’s looking for, he’ll do a memory break.”
“I’m not wrong,” Gethen insisted calmly, “and if Wylie cooperates, I won’t need to resort to anything so extreme. But that’s a risk he’s going to have to take—and you’re wasting precious seconds. Is the Vacker boy even still breathing?”
Sophie couldn’t tell. But Fitz’s skin was turning from blue to gray, and the shadows in her head were latching on like they were permanently part of her brain—which made the selfish, terrified part of her want to beg Wylie to do whatever he could to save them.
Instead, she forced herself to remind him, “Whatever your mom hid, she did it to keep it away from them.”
“I know that,” he said quietly. “But . . . they’re never going to stop coming after me until they get what they want. At least this way we get something out of it too.”
“Such refreshing wisdom,” Gethen said, flashing another bloodstained smile. “See the beauty of cooperation? I hope you’ll remember this, Sophie, the next time we pay you a visit. Especially since I think it might be time to bring a few of our ogre friends along—or maybe some dwarves. But we’ll save that fun for later. For the moment, I’m going to need everyone that’s still conscious to raise your hands above your head—except you, Sophie. Given your condition, I’ll settle for just your good arm.”
She had to let go of her injured hand to obey, and the pain left her doubled over.
“Very good,” Gethen said, narrowing his eyes at Sandor before he turned back to Wylie. “Now I want you to unravel your shield on the count of three—and if you so much as think about reaching for one of your little trinkets, Dex, I’ll have Umber send her shadows somewhere I suspect you’ll find very unpleasant.”
“Just do what he says,” Wylie ordered when Dex didn’t agree. “I know what I’m doing, okay?”
“Everybody ready?” Gethen asked.
He waited until Dex nodded, then counted to three, and Wylie snapped his fingers, making their green shield dissolve into the sand.
“Now, walk slowly over to me,” Gethen ordered. “And everyone else, keep those hands where I can see them.”
Sobs shook Sophie’s body, and she forced her eyes to stay focused—forced herself to watch as Wylie handed himself over to the enemy to save her.
But when he was only halfway to Gethen, he threw out his hands and shouted, “GET DOWN!” as a beam of rainbow-streaked light swirled from his fingers.
“Fool,” Umber snarled, waving her arms and creating a long spear of black woven from threads of both kinds of shadows—those she gathered, and that strange darkness that poured from her hands.
Thunder clapped and lightning flashed when the light and darkness collided, hurling both Wylie and Umber backward as the force exploded.
Sophie tried to cover her head, her vision dimming from a fresh surge of pain. But she could still see the waves of shadowy light whip in every direction, spinning into a cyclone and spreading wider and wider until it burst with a blinding flash that somehow blacked out the sky.
More crackles and flashes followed. And when the air finally calmed, all of the force fields were gone.
All of them.
Sandor must’ve realized the same thing, because he raised his sword and charged.
And when Ruy tried forming a new force field, the energy flickered and dissipated.
So did Umber’s shadows.
“Well,” Gethen said, frowning as Sandor closed in, “looks like we’ll have to finish this another time.”
He reached into his cloak, pulling out a cobalt blue crystal and holding it up to the sky. Ruy and Umber did the same, calling, “See you soon,” before they stepped into the light.
The last thing Sophie heard was Dex telling her to hold on. Then someone lifted her off the sand, and her consciousness slipped away.
SEVEN
VOICES FADED IN AND OUT. Some Sophie recognized. Some she couldn’t place. And most of the words were lost in the layers of black.
The pain was only a memory now.
Gone but not forgotten.
Another thing to carry—and she would.
But the fear . . .
This was not the kind of terror she’d battled before.
This was solid.
Tangible.
A monster in the dark.
Prowling into the prickliest places. Feasting on what’d been hidden away.
Growing stronger. Fiercer. Dragging her down.
“Sophie,” a voice whispered. Wrapping around her heart and pulling her closer. “Sophie, please wake up.”
She tried.
But the monster was too strong.
And the bright light of reality was too full of horrifying possibilities.
Neither was safe.
Panic coiled tight, and the voice seemed to understand.
“Okay,” it told her. “Just sleep.”
She didn’t know how—not with the monster down below, waiting. It would hurt her this time. Somehow she knew that. And she wasn’t ready—not yet.
But then a soft blue breeze trickled through her mind, scattering the shadows like dandelion seeds. Slowing her racing thoughts. Steadying her breath.
Until there was only silence.
And rest.
• • •
Hours passed—or maybe it was minutes.
It might’ve even been days.
Then the darkness thinned and there were voices again. Two of them. Calling her name louder and louder until she forced her eyes open, groaning as a blast of light burned in
to her brain.
The world shifted into focus, and she realized she was staring at the ceiling of the Healing Center, with a bruised, weary Dex leaning over her and a boy next to him with black hair and silver-tipped bangs.
“It’s about time,” Tam said, then winked one of his silver-flecked blue eyes. “Leave it to you to find a completely new way to almost die.”
“Sadly, he’s not exaggerating,” Elwin agreed as he leaned in between Dex and Tam. His dark, wild hair was even more rumpled than usual, and his eyes looked bloodshot behind the huge iridescent spectacles he always wore while treating patients. “Bullhorn screamed his head off when he saw you, and then he insisted on lying by your side—which pretty much gave me a meltdown, just so you know. Especially when you wouldn’t respond to any of the elixirs I gave you. But when Tam called the shadows out of your blood, your system finally started cooperating, and Bullhorn scurried back to his favorite spot under my desk.”
“Wow,” Sophie mumbled, the word sour and broken.
Elwin’s pet banshee only acted like that if someone was almost out of time.
“Yeah, it’s not a moment I want to live again anytime soon,” Elwin admitted, snapping his fingers and forming an orange orb around her torso. “Those shadows were like poison. If Tam hadn’t rushed over when I hailed him . . .”
“It’s a good thing I actually had my Imparter with me,” Tam added quietly.
He and Linh had spent years on their own after the Council banished them from the Lost Cities because Linh’s untrained ability had earned her the nickname “the Girl of Many Floods.” So staying in contact wasn’t really a habit for them.
“Well . . . thank you,” Sophie told him. “All of you,” she added, taking a careful sip from the bottle of Youth Elwin pressed against her lips and wondering if it would ever not feel awkward to thank people for saving her life.
It was the kind of moment that deserved some sort of deep, impassioned speech. But everything still felt too shattered.
“How long have I been here?” she whispered.
Elwin made her take two more swallows of the cool, sweet water before he told her, “Not that long—about eighteen hours.”
Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities Book 7) Page 8