“We're far from any burial ground, Brynn. You won't summon much for that.” He flashes his palm at me, and I recognize the elemental spellwork. “We need to go long distance for this and summon the elements.”
A cold shiver runs through me as memories of failed elemental castings flash through my mind—Professor Lorent's disappointed face, my classmates' snickers. “Oh, okay,” I stammer, suddenly feeling like a first-year all over again. “Sorry, I told you, I'm more on the theoretical side of things.”
“And there's plenty of theory about the elements in those books of yours, Brynn,” he says, voice edged with impatience. “Surely, you know how to summon the winds, for example. Or the earth.”
I glance at the clearbloods: fifty yards and closing fast. My window for not looking like a complete idiot is shrinking by the second.
“I know how. I've just... rarely ever done it.” And by rarely, I mean catastrophically.
Chad whips around, his face a mask of pure what-the-actual-hell. “Are you serious right now?!”
I mean, fair. I'd be pissed at me too.
“Duck!” he shouts, shoving me down as he throws his arms wide. A shield erupts between us and the clearbloods, this shimmering, pulsing wall of energy that makes my teeth vibrate. Their attack spells slam into it with a sound like thunder cracking directly overhead.
Okay, Brynn. Think. I've got this. Probably.
I drop to my knees, palms slapping against the salt flat. My blood—the stuff dripping from my half-assed spell carvings—seeps into the white crystals. It spreads in these creepy little tendrils that honestly freak me out a little. But I push through it, exhaling slowly like Professor Lorent taught us. Let my spirit guide the blood. Let it find its target.
The salt erupts into crimson spikes under one of the clearbloods. He goes down screaming, clutching his leg where a salt-dagger the size of my forearm just impaled him. Gross, but effective. He fumbles for a healing potion, blood pooling beneath him.
“Stay back,” Chad warns, already charging the other two.
Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna hide while he gets his ass handed to him? We might hate each other’s guts, but we're stuck together in this mess.
I scramble to my feet, hands already tracing the sigils for an air pulse. Something quick and dirty to knock one of these bastards off balance.
“Kill both the darkbloods!” the injured clearblood snarls from the ground. “For Heathborne!”
“For Heathborne!” the others echo, and I roll my eyes so hard they nearly fall out of my head. Seriously with the battle cries?
Fine—revenge for Heathborne. My blood’s actually heating up. These guys are just speed bumps on my path to finding my sister. The faster we clear them, the faster I move on.
“Brynn, watch out!” Chad screams. Before I can blink, a blast of blue flame hits me square in the chest like a mini tornado. I’m hurled backward, gasping for air. My attacker strides forward, sword raised for the kill. Chad’s wrestling another goon—blades flash, metal screeches.
I catch the red glow in Chad’s eyes, the blue fire swelling between our guy’s white-gloved hands. He’s itching to end me. “Finish her!” the wounded clearblood bellows. Chad’s roar shatters the silence: “NO!” The ground quakes as he flings his arms wide. I hear flesh tear, see black claws sprouting and slicing into the clearblood nearest him.
Pinned by pain and shock, I can’t move. My attacker whirls—too late. A wave of pure darkness surges in Chad’s wake: eyes glowing red, fangs glinting, claws dripping blood.
“Oh hell,” I manage, which barely covers it.
The injured clearblood tries to haul himself up on that mangled leg but collapses in a whimper. His potion’s no match for Chad’s assault. I consider tossing him a healing vial but nah. I’ve got my own breathing to worry about.
“Leave her alone!” Chad snarls, launching himself at my attacker. I look away, stomach twisting at the sounds of ripping flesh and cracking bone, the man’s final screams cut short by a dull thud. When I glance back, he’s dead. Eyes wide, mouth frozen in terror, sinking into the salt like some ghastly statue.
I look up, and holy crap—Chad's standing over me looking like he wandered straight out of a nightmare coloring book. It's still him, but with the saturation cranked to eleven. His eyes are literally on fire, like someone jammed two burning coals into his eye sockets. Those little red flickers I'd been noticing? Yeah, full-blown inferno now.
“You're... You're a demon,” I stammer, because what else do I say?
“Hold on,” he mutters, then stalks back toward the injured clearblood who's suddenly found humility.
“No, no, no, please, don't!” the guy sobs, all pathetic now that he's on the receiving end. Whatever. Even with his leg gushing blood like a broken pipe, his only priority was watching me die. Hard pass on the sympathy card.
Chad doesn't hesitate. One flick of those wicked claws, and the clearblood's throat opens like a second smile. Gross, but efficient.
When he walks back, my pulse hammers so hard I can feel it in my eyeballs. Every breath feels like someone's jabbing a hot poker between my ribs, thanks to that blue flame spell. Likesomeone lit a match inside my chest cavity and forgot to put it out.
“What the hell, Chad?” I wheeze. “You're a demon?!”
