Donovan wrenched the door handle, but it didn’t open. “Cecil! Un-armor this carriage right now!”
“Don’t do that!” Bart was clutching his chest, panting—he needed somewhere safe to stay. I leaned forward and hit the child safety lock. “There.”
Donovan wrenched the door open immediately and leapt out, Nate and Eryk following him. “Stay here, Chosen!” Pulling weapons and firing up magic on their hands as they ran, they charged off into the horde of banwyn rushing towards them.
In the front seat, Cress yanked at her door handle, and let out a scream of frustration, pulling my attention away. I knocked on the plastic partition. “Cress, you have to—”
“Heir.” A cold, empty voice sucked all the oxygen from my lungs. I whipped my head around to see a shadowy figure stepping in front of the lights of the school bus. “Face me.”
Oh, shit. That wasn’t Agarthon; he didn’t wear pitch-black armor. This assassin was thinner, almost emaciated, his cheekbones and chin almost razor sharp in the harsh headlights. He wore a cloak made of shadows that drifted eerily in the non-existent wind. Donovan had called him Purg. What kind of monster was he?
As I watched, Purg flexed his hands. Red fire poured from his fingers like claws.
My entire body broke out in goosebumps. This terrifying creature was brimming with so much magic I could see it, dark, sinister magic, wafting off him like a miasma. The stench of power and corruption almost choked me. Donovan couldn’t face that. Not alone.
But what could I do? I could almost feel my own burgeoning magic—that warm heat in the pit of my belly—freeze up in the face of such blistering power. I couldn’t throw this assassin back with a simple command. I wasn’t going to be able to toss him in the air. He felt like he was made up entirely of magic himself; a skeleton of a man animated by the deepest, darkest magic.
But I had to do something.
I pointed at Cecil and Bart. “Stay here, and look after the driver.” I leapt out of the car and slammed the door behind me.
Chapter
Nine
Okay, Susan… What now?
I ducked behind the taxi and watched the battle unfold. Eryk and Nate were back-to-back, fighting off banwyn as they darted down the alleyway, climbing up the walls, eyes glowing, teeth snapping, and tossing silver balls. Donovan advanced, batting back the magic grenades and chopping and slashing banwyn into sticky puddles. Even with fear coursing through me, my heart throbbed in my chest. He was so glorious in battle, his movements graceful and his strikes fast and powerful like lightning. He was art in motion—a force of nature.
The assassin, waiting back at the entrance of the alley, threw his head back and laughed. The cold, high-pitched sound echoed down the alley, drowning out the sinister patpatpat of the banwyn’s hands and feet as they crawled over the walls. “My patience grows weary. I do not have all day.”
Donovan kicked a scurrying banwyn out of the way and let out a roar. “You are a coward, Purg! Disperse these vile insects and face me now!”
“They must feed, heir.” Idly, the cloaked mage tossed a silver ball towards him. Donovan leapt in the air and slashed with his sword, and the ball shattered into red sparks. “They grow tired of feasting on vagrants and runaways here in this realm,” Purg went on. “My traitorous nephew and his friend will make a tasty treat for them.” He tossed another ball carelessly. It soared through the air, heading towards Nate.
Nate turned in a circle, blurring, and whispered frantically; a glowing green light-shield appeared in front of him and Eryk. The silver ball bounced off, then exploded, throwing several banwyn aside.
Purg laughed.
Donovan, with a jaw-dropping display of power, charged into the last group of banwyn. He fell to his knees, skidding along, and whipped his sword in a circle, cutting off twenty heads before I could even blink. The rest of the banwyn scattered, pushing up the laneway towards Eryk and Nate.
Donovan stalked towards Purg.
Purg flexed his fingers, and the red flame shot out again. He lunged at Donovan, swiping with staggering speed with his long, red flaming claws. A bolt of horror surged through me; Purg was using magic. Donovan just had a sword.
I had to do something. But there was no way through this swarm of banwyn, especially not with Eryk and Nate throwing flaming balls and explosive spells everywhere. The entire alley was lit up like the Fourth of July.
I looked up; a fire escape hung down just behind me, hidden behind the taxi. Before I could even think about what I was doing I ran over, pulled the ladder down, and started to climb. I hauled myself up on the rooftop, and bolted, watching the battle below as I ran.
Purg’s shadow robe billowed around his skeletal frame as he whipped his magic claws like a cornered cat. Donovan, sword broken almost to a stub by the claws, ducked, pivoted, and feinted, taking every opportunity to lash out with his fists and kick with his feet whenever he could. Purg’s blood-red eyes were huge and round in his skull-like face, his lips pulled back from sharp teeth in a horrifying rictus.
My stomach clenched painfully. Donovan’s hoodie was torn, a vivid red gash slashed through his biceps. Another ragged cut ran through his upper thigh. His gray sweatpants were soaked in blood. I gasped, but neither of them looked up as I ran above them.
The bus loomed just below me, still idling with a loud rumble. I took a precious second to summon the courage to jump onto the roof. Come on, Susan. You’re a strong, capable woman.
I jumped, landed hard, rolled, and managed to stay on, then crawled on my hands and knees to the back. It was a good thing I’d been irrationally obsessed with rock climbing in my late thirties, because I managed to get a grip on the door and slide to the ground, landing quietly on the balls of my feet.
The shriek of banwyn was still earsplitting, but over the noise, I heard Donovan let out a grunt of pain. The assassin was cutting him to ribbons with his flaming claws. All he could do was dodge them and sweep out with brutal kicks and vicious punches whenever he could get close enough. Purg had too much magic and not enough brute strength; Donovan had too much brute strength and not enough magic.
I crept around the side of the bus and peeked inside.
The bus was empty, little specks of tarry goo spattered on the inside. I climbed into the seat, carefully pulled my seatbelt on and clipped it in.
Right in front of the bus, Purg and Donovan fought viciously. Donovan was covered in blood. Purg advanced, his teeth bared. He waved his hands in a circle, gathering more dark energy towards him. The flaming scarlet claws grew longer.
God, he was horrifying. I fixed him right in my sights, battling with the heat within me. Come on, Susan. You can do this. You’re new to magic, but you were new to rock climbing not that long ago, and look at you, climbing onto rooftops and jumping onto buses! You go, girl! You can do anything when you put your mind to it!
My magic surged. I mentally grabbed it with both fists joyfully and forced it up, pushing it into my diaphragm just as Purg let out a triumphant cackle, extending his claws into long whips. He wound back, ready to strike.
“Stop.”
The assassin froze, mid slash.
Donovan’s eyes found me immediately, widening in shock and horror. No time for explanations, no time for arguments, Purg was already twitching. I gave Donovan a desperate nod, braced myself, and hit the gas. Donovan threw himself out of the way just in time.
Purg’s eyes widened in his skull-like head as the bus slammed into the brick wall, squashing him flat against it.
Chapter
