"I believe you," I said, because clearly, he wanted me to say something. If I’d learned anything about Jonathan both during my time at the Archive and during this last day, it was that he enjoyed being the most important person in the room. The hero. Dropping off much-needed clothing. Being my ally, willing to listen to me when his colleagues wouldn't, though I had to suspect that there were other motivations behind his kindness.
Jonathan’s men grabbed Marc first, unlocking him before man-handling him to the center of the room. All too quickly, he was taken over to one of the support beams, his hands fastened behind him so he was secured to the pole. Dash stayed with me, only a breath away as his hands stayed firm on my arms making sure I couldn’t go anywhere as Fenrix disappeared back through the front door.
A moment later, he was back, wheeling a large chest behind him. "We’re more than prepared to be creative. We've brought quite a few of our favorite toys to play with." And then the bastard winked at me. I shuddered a little, and looked over at Marc instead.
"You good?" he asked, I did my best to read the subtext of his question.
I shook my head. "I'm useless," I said, hoping my answer wouldn't be interpreted by Marc as anything other than literal. Which is, I suppose, how I meant it. I was useless. I hadn't been able to produce anything that could help. I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to summon fire at random. It didn't come. Because, of course, it wouldn’t. I wasn't a wizard, a witch, a shapeshifter, or anything else that could help anyone. I was just a useless girl from a useless town, who wasn't even wanted by the boy she loved. And now I was going to die, after watching some sick asshole beat my friend to death.
Marc held his own like a champ. They'd been going easy on him before, hoping they wouldn’t need to do much in order to coax his powers out. But there were no holds barred now, and soon his face was bruised and bloodied.
But he never uttered a word. Sometimes, I could tell he was trying to keep himself from even crying out and not always succeeding. But he didn't crack, didn't share his secret. Watching him there like that had to be the most painful thing I'd ever experienced. But his ability wasn't mine to share, and it took everything I had to respect his wishes.
More than anything, I wanted to look away, but I made myself watch, made myself take in his pain and lock eyes with him whenever I had the chance. I didn't want to say anything out loud that might encourage Jonathan or his goons, but I tried to promise with my expression that Marc was not alone in this. That I was there with him. Finally, Jonathan caught the gaze between the two of us. For a second, I thought he was going to let it go without comment, but instead his mouth twisted into a thoughtful grimace.
"This isn’t working," he said aloud. Jonathan held up his hand, commanding everything around him to stop. "Maybe we've been overthinking this." Jonathan mumbled a phrase and a gun appeared in his right hand. Its lethal appearance was enough to leave me with a dry mouth and sweaty palms. "Now, this is one way to encourage you to cooperate, but really, it is only here to demonstrate just how serious I am about what comes next. He tucked the gun away in the waistband of his pants.
Soon, he was muttering another spell and a long stick appeared in one of Jonathan’s hands, silver with a pointed end that crackled with electricity. "I don’t pretend to be an expert in torture, but I have to believe this will be most effective."
He reached out and, ever so gently, placed the end of the stick to Marc’s throat. My friend cried out at once with a noise so animalistic I knew I’d remember it for the rest of my life.
"Three strikes from this device will kill any living creature. Animals die with only one touch. For prosaics, it takes only two…" He touched Marc at the shoulder with the device. This time, Marc’s yell held far less power, but only because, by the sound of it, he had used up his voice after the first strike, and not because it hurt any less.
For the briefest of moments, I thought Marc had succumbed, but a second later he took in a gasp of air.
"Interesting," Jonathan said. "It would appear that whether or not you know it, there is more to you than meets the eye. And still, you are no good to me this way." He turned from Marc to me as his hand drew up again to strike Marc one last time.
Please, please, please. I begged myself to somehow become more. I should have magic! It had worked for Devon and for Marc, but I couldn't muster anything from the spark of a flame to a lightning bolt to destroy Jonathan.
He hit Marc again, and I cried out at the same time as my friend did.
We were all going to die here, but Marc was going to die first and I was going to have to watch it happen. Unless, I could do something. But I couldn't wait a second longer, I couldn't stand by and watch Marc die. And I also didn't want him to give into Jonathan and confess his secret, proving to this maniac that what he'd done had gotten the results he’d been looking for. This had to end, and it had to end now.
I didn't have any secret magical abilities hidden in the depths my soul, but that didn't mean I had nothing.
Without thinking, I charged, screaming out with everything I had, trying to draw attention to me and away from Marc. I couldn't see how the men around me were reacting as my vision narrowed in on my target, but I only felt the slightest touch of skin against my back as I surged forward, whoever had been looking to grab me had missed me by a millimeter.
I headed straight for Jonathan, hands behind my back. I knew it was hopeless, but I also knew it was worth trying.
At the last second, he put out his hand to try to deflect me, the stick he’d been using on Marc clattering to the ground, but my focus was laser sharp. I dodged sidestepping around Jonathan, spun back toward him and slammed my head into his chest, sending us both reeling onto the floor.
He was up before me, the advantage of his hands weighing the odds heavily in his favor. But I had at least one more person on my side. As I stared up at the ceiling, I saw Marc used his body weight to push against the pole behind him, throwing both of his feet at Jonathan in one strong kick. Marc managed to send him flying backwards again right as he had regained his balance, causing Jonathan to tumble into Dash at the same time.
From my position on the floor, I used my feet, swinging out to trip Fenrix as he reached me. It gave me just enough time to pull myself upward.
Marc and I stared at each other for only an instant as they came for us, not sure what would come next. The element of surprise had played in my favor, but it wasn't going to be enough for the second round. These guys had weapons, an advantage in numbers, and the use of their hands. We were screwed, but we were going to go down swinging.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
As the three men spread out across the room to make sure Marc and I were well and truly cornered, I knew I was going to die. But what really broke my heart was that I didn't have much of a life at all to flash before my eyes in my final moments. Try as I might, I couldn't even conjure up images of my parents to draw strength from. I had no one.
I was no one.
Jonathan rounded on us as he regained his composure, and I could tell from his expression that there would be no more speeches, no more explanations. He was finishing this, and he was going to do it as soon as possible. I didn't know what that would mean for his experimentation and quest for new ideas. But he still had Devon contained in the Archive, even if he would have to find a way to get him out of there. And Devon, he would already be far more useful than Marc or me--there was no denying Devon's abilities.
I tried to focus on what Devon would have to experience at the hands of this maniac, to let it fuel me. As Jonathan moved toward me, I watched for any sign of his next attack to at least attempt to get out of the way and give myself one more precious second.
Without warning, Jonathan swung for me, his fists flying out in front of him. The first blow barely grazed my shoulder, but when his knee swung up to hit me in the stomach, I couldn't avoid the impact. I crumbled over at once, rolling up toward the ceiling. A boot fastened itself over my throat as my
eyes fixated on the large, lone window open to the hazy sunset through the skylight. I wouldn’t let Jonathan’s face be the last thing I saw.
It was over. I was done. Time seemed to freeze as the world moved on in slow motion around me. But I had at least given it everything I had.
An object, flying high above, caught my attention in the window, and I let myself fixate on that for the few moments it took for Jonathan to start mumbling over me. But the object in my vision was getting bigger. Closer and closer.
Was it a meteor come to end this all at once? The After sick of Jonathan’s plotting. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Except… it was a bird.
I recognized the seagull, only a second before I was sure it was going to slam right into the glass of the window. I'd watch the bird die right before my own life ended. And then I’d wake up right back where I’d started, only to be hunted by Jonathan all over again.
But the gull never smacked into the glass, instead it turned into a man, just long enough for the force of his body to shatter the window and come tumbling into the room, drawing absolutely everyone's attention and loosening Jonathan’s grip ever so slightly. My baser instincts taking control, I rolled away, wincing in pain as my hands pinched in their shackles. But soon enough, I was on my feet again, quickly enough to take in the scene around me. One more body had been added to the fray. Grayson. Somehow, he’d found us. But that didn't mean the fight was over, only that we’d been granted a reprieve.
From the looks of it, Jonathan's silver-bearded lackey had felt the brunt of Grayson's body falling through the glass window. He lay on the floor, either unconscious or dead--I couldn't say which. Marc was currently taking on Dash, using only his powerful legs, while Jonathan had stepped back, watching with shocked interest. It wouldn’t be long before he threw himself back into the fight, and since Marc was still bound to the column, his life could be over in seconds.
I scrambled for the fallen man, hoping that he'd slipped the keys that would free Marc and I into his pocket. Once I was close to him it was clear he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, or ever again. A small pool of blood was forming under the base of his skull. But I didn't have time to figure out how I felt about any of this as I maneuvered my hands into his pockets while still clasped behind my back. Once I had the keys, there was no way I could use them to free myself from the angle I had. But they might just be enough to help Marc. Keyring in hand, I moved toward my friend as quickly as I could.
By then, Jonathan had gotten himself into the fight, but the battle had moved just out of Marc’s reach. I stopped for a second when I saw Grayson’s two opponents had him cornered, and it looked like him being outnumbered was going to be just too much. In the blink of an eye, Grayson transformed into a bird even smaller than Devon had become, flew upward and then shifted back into a man.
"Here, turn around." I rushed over to Marc, trying to get behind him.
Marc didn’t ask any questions and instead did as I asked. It took precious seconds to free him, but soon his hands were his own again and he could free mine. But there was no time for self-congratulations, or anything else. Jonathan had gotten his hands on the gun, and pointed it at the clashing bodies on the floor as Grayson threw punch after punch at his opponent, who was still able to kick, punch and throw his weight around but never quite gain the upper hand. Jonathan was as likely to hit one man as the next.
I did my best to do as my self-defense instructor had once taught me and assessed the area around me and to find something that might work to my advantage. But Marc had no such hesitation, he was already moving toward Jonathan, at least attempting to be inconspicuous rather than merely yelling and charging. But I already knew it wouldn’t be enough. He was no match against a gun, former cop or not. All it would take was one second, and his life would be over.
In slow motion, I saw the moment that it happened. I saw when Jonathan caught a flash of movement in his peripheral vision and assessed which of the two threats facing him was most pressing. And as I knew he would, he turned on Marc.
An instant was all I had, but I used it, bringing my newly freed fingers up to my mouth and letting out an ear-piercing whistle. It had the same effect as Grayson's dramatic entrance and drew the attention of everyone in the room. I heard the moment Grayson's fist collided with the other man's jaw, and then the distinctive crack of that man's neck. A second later, Jonathan's gun went off.
I gasped, unsure what had happened, my body was going into panic mode and was trying to search for any sign of injury. But Marc yelled out at that same moment, and I knew it wasn't me who had been hit. I turned to see Marc cradling his shoulder. He barely noticed as Jonathan swung his gun out toward me instead. Marc was still standing, hunched over in shock, but alive.
I, on the other hand, might not be for long.
"Shit, shit, shit." I dove toward the floor at the same time as the second bullet left the chamber of Jonathan's gun, and I could've sworn I heard it whizz over my head.
I was lying face down on the ground, perfectly aware of exactly how helpless I was. Once I flipped back over, using my arms to push myself off from the ground to standing again, Grayson had already tackled Jonathan, sending the much smaller man down to the ground. But it was still a less-than-perfect situation, as Grayson's back had somehow caught fire in the seconds I'd been looking away. I didn't know if the Hand of the Archive was capable of anything magical beyond shifting into the form of a bird, but we were all aware that Jonathan could do much more.
But Grayson was fighting through the pain all the same, and had managed to pin Jonathan's arms out at his sides. I ran toward the two of them as soon as I could, and even I could see that Jonathan was beginning to form the words for a spell to damage--or even kill--Grayson. Moments later, Grayson's head forcefully slammed into Jonathan's mouth, cutting off whatever he was going to say. I had nothing on hand, no water, no blanket, nothing to put out the fire, so I threw my own body down on top of Grayson’s hoping it wouldn't distract him from what already had his full attention. "It's me," I grunted out as I flew downwards toward Grayson's flaming back, hoping my body would be enough to cut off the oxygen to the flame. Hoping that magical flames responded to oxygen. "You're okay, I promise."
Nothing about this felt like it was going to be okay, and for a second I felt the heat of fire sear through my clothing and tickle my skin. But a moment later, the heat and flame died out. But not before I'd cried out in agony.
I rolled off Grayson's back, as quickly as I’d landed there, and righted myself.
It was enough of a distraction for Jonathan to wriggle one of his hands free, and I could see him moving for the gun that had fallen only a few feet away. I grasped wildly, trying to pick it up before he had the chance, but I was too late.
Marc got there first, and held the cold black metal in his hands for only a second before pulling the trigger.
The third bullet going off was just as loud and disorienting as the first two, but this time, the gun’s owner had been its target. And this time, the gun’s wielder hadn't missed.
Jonathan didn’t have so much as a chance to yell out before the bullet pierced his skull. He went limp instantly. Half a second later, Grayson stopped fighting against him, and slumped over.
From the way Grayson's eyes were already darting around the room, looking for the next threat--the next thing he had to attack--I knew he was at least not in any immediate danger of keeling over and dying himself.
Slowly, achingly, he stood up. The three of us stood there, alive but stunned.
We’d made it.
Between Marc’s shoulder and the burns that both Grayson and I had, we were a sorry looking group, but at least we were in far better shape than Jonathan and his underlings.
It was strange to think I now had a life where people had minions, but I'd quickly come to accept it as part of my reality.
"You both okay?" Grayson said, once we'd all caught our breath.
I nodded and Marc grunted
out a yes. "Took you long enough," I said, trying to keep my voice light, trying to relieve the tension. As if that was even possible.
"It was Jonathan's system for tracking you," Grayson explained. "Devon pointed it out, but it took way too long to figure out how to make it work. He didn’t exactly share his idea with the group. And then, while we were inside the Archive, the spell he'd used should have shown you on a map. Except, it couldn't see past Devon. Probably deliberate. But it was Eliza who thought to try it again once we were outside, in the city. We'd been searching for hours already, and there was no sign of either of you no matter what spells we tried, or methods we used. But there's a reason that Jonathan led the Archive; there are few in the city more powerful than him. Once we tried the spell again, map in hand standing out in the street, it showed us exactly where you were. I don't know exactly how he set it up, but in the end, it doesn't matter. Reinforcements should be on their way, not that they’d be of any use now. But flying here was the fastest way."
I gave a grateful nod. "Not sure what would've happened if you'd shown up a few seconds later." Even as I said the words out loud, I knew perfectly well what would've happened.
"What I want to know," Grayson said, "is what exactly I missed here. I can’t make sense of any of this." He shifted around the room, taking it all in. "We suspected Jonathan was involved, or at least that he knew more than he was letting on when he kept disappearing. But I thought he'd come to help you, I didn't expect him to be the one to blame for all this. And I still can't put the pieces together."
I did my best to help Grayson along, explaining as much as I understood, with Marc filling in a few of the blanks. I still couldn't say I really understood what happened.
"I always knew Jonathan had some unconventional ideas, at least as far as librarians were concerned." Grayson lifted his hand to run his fingers over his jaw, scratching at an itch. "It was something I liked about him. For as long as I've known librarians, even before I was one of them, it was impossible to miss just how caught up in doctrine they can get. They do things their way. I mean, we do. And that's all there is to it. Jonathan had been one of the first I'd met who realized that things are changing around here, but I hadn't realized to what extent his mentality had shifted. I can't believe…" Grayson shook his head. "I can't believe any of this. It's far too bizarre.”
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