Another solid wall of clay surges up from the ground to box the creatures in. The bobcat heaves itself upward, just as Salvatore caps his cage off with a matching roof.
In a matter of seconds, we’re staring at a domed structure like a miniature clay igloo. It’s dense enough that I can’t make out any sounds from inside, but I doubt the voids are chumming up to each other in their captivity.
“What the fuck?” Heath mutters.
Salvatore waggles his fingers in the air with a manic-looking grin. “I’ve got my glim, bro. Luminary better watch out.”
I wave him farther down the path, toward the cries carrying from deeper within the park. “There are more voids to tackle.” I glance over my shoulder at the two classmates we just rescued. “Get out of here and call for help. If you run into any more creatures, you might be able to convince them to run off if you make a lot of noise from different sides.”
Stella tips her head in acknowledgment. Her gaze lingers on Elodie through a momentary hesitation before she dashes off. Heath casts about as if searching for a weapon and then jogs after her with a determined scowl.
The nearest cries, mingled with gulping sobs, are filtering through the brush on the other side of the path. I pick up my pace, pushing between the bushes.
The sobs come from higher than I expected. I peer between the leaves and make out a girl who can’t be more than sixteen perched on one of the lower boughs of a hunched maple tree. She’s clinging to the trunk, the side of her cardigan stained with an ominously dark blotch.
A void creature I think is an otter lunges at her from the ground, its claws scrabbling against the bark. Its snapping fangs only miss her dangling foot by a couple of inches.
Then a chittering squirrel bolts past the otter up the tree, heading straight for the girl like it’s possessed by a demon—which it might as well be.
I hurtle forward on instinct, my sword arcing through the air. The blade slams into the tree trunk and sends the squirrel’s vacant head careening to the ground off its now spasming body.
As the smaller void flops onto the grass, I realize my companions have spread out around the maple without being told. There’s another creature I hadn’t noticed alongside theotter: a snake slithering around the base of the trunk with an eerie rattle of its tail.
Byron sets off a flare of electricity right near the snake’s head, then another next to the otter. I step closer with a wordless bellow, thumping the flat of my sword against the tree trunk. Salvatore pounds his feet against the ground, and Elodie tosses another broken branch to crash on the ground near the creatures.
As the otter jerks closer to the snake in the midst of the cacophony, an unexpected exhilaration washes through my body.
We’re doing this together. Working alongside each other like a cohesive union. Almost like… a family.
I like how it feels.
And I made this possible. I did lead the way; I set us on a course to save at least three of our schoolmates.
Looking over at Salvatore and Byron, I know right down to my core that this is where I’m meant to be. That I belong here, with Elodie, just as much as they do.
With a few more hollers, the otter nearly trips over the snake. Salvatore summons another, smaller clay structure to encase the feral creatures. The girl’s frantic sobs dwindle into sniffles.
I’m just starting to turn when there’s a whoomph of motion and a gasp from where Elodie was standing.
I whip around in time to see her form vanishing between the trees as if she’s been flung by an invisible force. A groan and a whimper follow in quick succession.
Without an instant’s hesitation, all three of us race in the direction she was hurled.
A few steps between the nearby tree trunks, I slam into a barrier of ephemera. With a grunt of frustration, I throw my shoulder at it and only earn myself a bruise.
Next to me, Byron’s features tense with a glare. He rams his hands into the barrier with a roar of collected electricity.
The wall of condensed energy crumbles apart, and I throw myself forward.
At the base of a ragged pine, two figures are grappling with each other. A glint of moonlight catches the purple streaked through Elodie’s hair and the threads of silver mingled with the older woman’s.
The woman we saw Professor Jovak talking to—the one he called Gwyn. The one who warned him to make sure he did his job right, or she’d step in.
And here she is.
One of Gwyn’s arms sags limp at her side. Her ankle lies twisted at an unnatural angle.
Are those injuries she gave Elodie that Elodie’s glim propelled back at her?
