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I mentally reached out and tried to ping the spell, but the sheer amount of magic in the air made it impossible to hear anything.
Impatience, fear, and rage simultaneously slammed into me, but I let them ride through me instead of partaking—noticing them but not giving them control.
Whenever I even thought of letting a sliver of my rage in, Chloe’s precious trash griffin—which had claimed a spot on my shoulder—stuck its round head inside my hood and pecked at my ear.
I gritted my teeth as I dragged the blond fae after me while I backed up, trying to get a better view of the roof. We’d retreated to the ground level, but I was seconds away from running back to Chloe.
I couldn’t see her, much less hear her—wild magic was alternately keening high and howling, and the persistent humming noise that Destruction always made was present.
If Destruction is still out and active, isn’t that an encouragement?
“There!” Charon pointed to the roof.
Chloe was upright. Her shoulders were hunched in a way I didn’t like. She seemed to be in pain, and she was tipsy, but she was standing, her armor still in place, her hands gripping Destruction as she stood in a burnt circle—that part of the roof was undoubtedly going to collapse if it didn’t get some magical support soon.
The claws that dug into my heart eased, and I felt like I could finally breathe.
“There what?” Aristide asked. “There what?”
Ker exhaled a deep whoosh of relief. “She’s standing on the roof. With Destruction. She made it!” She laughed as she hugged Aristide, her laugh fading into a dry sob of relief as she pushed her face into the vampire’s shoulder.
Aristide—relaxed now that he knew what was going on—slung his arms around Ker. “Of course she made it. Our little shadow is as resourceful and brave as they come.”
“Your Majesty.” Charon plucked at the unconscious fae—I had not been the kindest in my handling as we disembarked from the roof. It was possible he’d hit his head on several beams and gutters on the way down. An accident, of course.
“I will handle this fiend,” Charon said. “Perhaps you should see to—”
I tapped Charon on the shoulder in thanks before I left, running before the rest of his offer was out of his mouth.
The trash griffin—French Fry—jumped off my shoulders, taking to the sky so he could flap ahead of me.
I scaled the side of the building, watching for any damage the shockwave of magic might have caused.
The Cloisters were holding together admirably well—it seemed the Paragon was right to be proud of its defense spells.
But my heart sputtered in my chest when I heard the groan of faltering building materials. “Chloe!”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chloe
For a moment I thought I had died.
I only saw white, and there was a persistent ringing in my ears. That didn’t really sound like what I would picture Heaven was like, but I’d also never been skilled at music, so maybe my ears were out of tune.
It was only when I realized how much it hurt to breathe that I figured I was probably still alive.
I planted the butt of Truck’s pole on the ground, then leaned against him for stability as I waited for my eyesight to return.
“Way to go, Truck,” I croaked. My mouth felt numb—blistered by the heat.
The white started to clear from my vision around the same time Truck’s moans pierced the ringing noise in my ears.
The spear was in pieces at my feet—just a bunch of unrecognizable coals and a lump of metal.
Spurred on by my usual brand of paranoia, I ignored the pain and the swimming sensation of my head and slammed my heel down on the coals.
They exploded into embers under my boot, cooling into black ash that the wind blew away.
