Page 92

When she opened her eyes again, she felt dizzy and she could barely make out Dawson. Specks of blood covered his face. All the energy that had surged to her left her just the same. The bracelet, once again several sizes too big for her, fell to the ground, and her knees wobbled. Dawson caught her just as she started to fall and steadied her against his chest.

“I’m fine,” she said.

His eyes narrowed on her. “I thought we’d agreed you would abolish that word from your vocabulary.”

“Right. I’m a bit dizzy but nothing to worry about. Feels like as if I got up too quickly.”

His grip around her did not ease. “Only instead of getting up too quickly, you used an impossible amount of Dark Magic.”

“At least I didn’t use a white spell.” She smiled at him, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes.

“Perhaps you could have started with something less sinister than the Relic of Death?”

There was an accusation there somewhere, but she was too exhausted to dissect it. The relic looked like a regular piece of jewelry again, but when her fingers touched the metal, a drumming beat in her returned.

“I’ll take that,” he said as he pulled the relic from her in a fast swoop, stuffing it into the pocket of his slacks.

For a moment, everything turned dark. Then she was in his arms, unsure how she got there.

“I can walk,” she protested.

His face was hard and unreadable. “You can’t even stand.”

“I’m just tired. Let’s coin travel back.”

“We can’t.”

That stupid anti–coin travel gas. “How long do the effects of the gas last?”

“Doesn’t matter because you can’t coin travel with injuries.”

“I’m not injured,” she said, staring at the blood-soaked sleeve of his white shirt.

“Do you have any idea what the amount of Dark Magic you just used can do?”

Dark Magic always came with a price.

“It couldn’t be all that much if a single-signifier Wielder was able to use it.”

He said nothing, but his expression darkened as he carried her away from the riverbank back to a cobblestone street. Lights above her passed by like falling stars. Everything felt cloudlike. She was floating. Dreaming. But a headache started to creep up her neck.

When she touched her forehead, she saw that his name on her wrist had disappeared. That moment at the club seemed like a lifetime ago. Had it happened? Was it a dream? Was this a dream?

And then she looked at her fingers. Her vision was a bit blurry, but she could see black ink on her middle finger, the one that was usually bare. Her headache increased, biting through her skull. With it came this voice, shrill and piercing. It was her own.

“I have a second signifier?” Adrenaline shot through the haze, and she gasped. “What happened? How did I get this?”

Dawson remained quiet, his steps the only sound echoing across the empty streets.

“Put me down,” she demanded, and then repeated it more firmly when he didn’t comply.

When her feet touched the ground, she continued to stare in horror at the second signifier. Two small stars, separated by a thin line, marked her middle finger.

“I…I didn’t ask for another signifier,” she stammered.

“You did when you activated the relic.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even know how to call for a new signifier.”