Riven tackles him, shoving him out of the orb’s path by a hair.
They hit the ground. My heart is beating out of my chest. I’m not sure if I’m choking on my own fear or the combined terror of the panicked crowd. Radiating blinding light, the orb hums before expanding to the size of a small car, a black hole sucking in everything around it.
Trapped beneath Riven’s body weight, Malach avoids the suction.
Riven doesn’t.
His foot jerks up, followed by his entire leg.Shit, shit, shit, it’s going to crush him.What can I do? I’m too far away to physically help and hiding them from the orb won’t do a damn thing.
Malach wraps Riven in a bear hug and grabs the pole of the speaker system with his legs. The device hums, and the suction gets worse, pulling in a shoe, then an entire bench. I watch in horror as both Malach and Riven arelifted off the ground. Malach’s legs are the only thing keeping them tethered, but I don’t know how long he’ll be able to hold on.
Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, the orb emits a horrible, high-pitched whine and contracts to the size of a beach ball.
Malach and Riven fall to the ground.
I’m tempted to do the same.That wasway too close.Riven’s foot is bent at a strange angle, but he’s alive. And he still has a foot, so that’s something.
I suck in a shaky breath. Maybe the worst is—a terrified angel bumps into one of the assassins Luca turned to stone, knocking it over in her effort to get away. The hand snaps on impact, releasing the pressure and activating another bomb.
I watch, frozen with horror, as it devours an entire, very occupied, bench—one marked with S’lach’s silence rune, thank the gods. A symphony of horror ensues. Grinding stone joins agonized screams, all punctuated by the throbbing, rhythmic hum of the hungrykoil’nashra.
Their deaths aren’t fast.
They’re slow and loud and fucking gross.
By the time it’s done, all that remains of the angels are a few snapped bones sticking out of a ball of crushed rock and flesh. Plus, buckets of blood. It oozes from the compacted remains, soaking the stone a deep, rusty red.
Stumbling free from the jostling crowd, I cling to my nightmare and try to regroup.
I’m not sure if we’re winning or not, but one thing is painfully obvious: the organized part of the duel is over. This is pure chaos.
FIFTY-TWO
Unspoken Rule of the Fringes #87:
Opposites attract. They also destroy.
CELINE
He was never interested in a fair duel.
Angels are dying because of it. I hear their screams, but it’s hard to tell exactly what’s happening while I’m fighting for my life. My heart squeezes. They might not be innocent bystanders in the most literal sense of the word, but they didn’t deserve a death sentence either.
I’ve seen enough to know that the guys aren’t hidden anymore. Surrounded by angels on all sides, they stand out like neon signs glowing in the dark.
A chill rolls down my back. They’re exposed. They could be hurt.You can’t do this on your own.I don’t want to accept it, but the reality is I need help keeping this duel contained. My reflexes are fast, but I can’t be in multiple places at once.
“So, they aren’t cowards,after all,” Father hisses and spits onto the ground. His lip is split, and the red blood staining his beard makes me smile.
“It’s too bad about your assassins.” I tilt my head toward the nearest stone figure. “Kind of embarrassing, don’t you think? You couldn’t beat me on your own. You had to pay others to handle your business.”
“Silence!” He roars the word, and it bashes into me like a brick to the face.
I chuckle, then stumble in shock.Why was my laugh so loud?My own heartbeat is as resonant as Crag’s lumbering footsteps. I swallow around the lump in my throat, and it sounds like a wave crashing against a cliff face. All my sounds are amplified internally.
It’s horribly strange, and it takes me a second to notice what’s missing: everything else.
Holy shit. He silenced everythingbutme.
