The Veil
Page 16
The sign popped off its hooks and hurtled through the air toward us. But that’s where the easy part ended.
The sign was only a couple of feet across. But moving it was like guiding an elephant across a piece of dental floss a thousand feet in the air. I drew it toward me, but the sign barely wanted to obey. It barreled across the street, bumping into the brick at the edge of the alley and ricocheting backward.
I didn’t have time to be excited I’d gotten it this far, because I was going to have to thread the elephant-laden dental floss through a needle.
I narrowed my eyes with purpose, imagined the alley growing bigger, the sign shrinking until it was the side of a postcard. And when I had them lined up, I tugged the sign toward me.
One of the wraiths reached out, and I dodged to the side to avoid him. The thread between me and the sign jerked, too. It barreled down the alley, cracked against the wall like thunder, splintering in half. I spun, standing straight again, clasped my hands in front of me, and then wrenched them apart so each hand pointed at the wraiths.
With that motion, I hurled the two pieces of the broken sign toward the wraiths, nailed them both on the back. They screamed, arching and rolling in pain.
But they weren’t deterred. If anything, I’d made them angrier, more intent on getting to me and punishing the hurt I’d caused. I wouldn’t be able to use the power much longer, and could already feel exhaustion settling into my bones. I had to make this count.
I sucked in air, still hot and humid, and jerked the signs forward with the leash of magic I’d created. They moved toward me, and I hit the wraiths again—one across the back, the other on the shoulder.
They were still furious. But they were in pain, and their hearts weren’t in the fight any longer. Howling in frustration, they loped back down the alley and into darkness again.
I held my breath, counting to five just in case they changed their mind. But the street was quiet and still. I let the rest of the power go, felt it flow through the alley like a brutal wind. The remains of the sign hit the ground with a clatter, and silence fell again.
• • •
I didn’t have much time to savor my victory. I had been on camera, filmed working magic in violation of the Magic Act. I’d be locked into Devil’s Isle, where I’d sit behind bars and wait to become a wraith. There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have any magical endurance, so using it left me starving and dizzy. I took a breath, made myself concentrate, remember what I’d told myself to do, the list I’d made myself memorize just in case worse came to worst. That’s how I dealt with the real possibility I’d be found out: I had an escape plan. A bag and a goal. I’d head west into the country, across southern Louisiana toward Texas. That was the closest Zone border, and if I could get out of the Zone, I’d have a chance.
Follow the steps, I reminded myself. “Step one,” I quietly said, then repeated it again until the words made sense. “Step One: Go home.”
Easier said than done. I crept to the end of the alley, saw two flashlights bouncing up from the river end of Conti. I dodged down the street into the next doorway, pausing while the agents looked into the alley, and then hustled around the corner to Royal.
I hauled ass back to the store, nearly tripping over the uneven sidewalk as I reached the door. I pulled the keys from the dress’s pocket, but my hands were shaky, and it took three tries to get the right key and shift the tumblers home. When the lock snapped, I shoved the door open, slammed it shut behind me again, and ran to the narrow staircase that led to the building’s second and third floors.
The sign was only a couple of feet across. But moving it was like guiding an elephant across a piece of dental floss a thousand feet in the air. I drew it toward me, but the sign barely wanted to obey. It barreled across the street, bumping into the brick at the edge of the alley and ricocheting backward.
I didn’t have time to be excited I’d gotten it this far, because I was going to have to thread the elephant-laden dental floss through a needle.
I narrowed my eyes with purpose, imagined the alley growing bigger, the sign shrinking until it was the side of a postcard. And when I had them lined up, I tugged the sign toward me.
One of the wraiths reached out, and I dodged to the side to avoid him. The thread between me and the sign jerked, too. It barreled down the alley, cracked against the wall like thunder, splintering in half. I spun, standing straight again, clasped my hands in front of me, and then wrenched them apart so each hand pointed at the wraiths.
With that motion, I hurled the two pieces of the broken sign toward the wraiths, nailed them both on the back. They screamed, arching and rolling in pain.
But they weren’t deterred. If anything, I’d made them angrier, more intent on getting to me and punishing the hurt I’d caused. I wouldn’t be able to use the power much longer, and could already feel exhaustion settling into my bones. I had to make this count.
I sucked in air, still hot and humid, and jerked the signs forward with the leash of magic I’d created. They moved toward me, and I hit the wraiths again—one across the back, the other on the shoulder.
They were still furious. But they were in pain, and their hearts weren’t in the fight any longer. Howling in frustration, they loped back down the alley and into darkness again.
I held my breath, counting to five just in case they changed their mind. But the street was quiet and still. I let the rest of the power go, felt it flow through the alley like a brutal wind. The remains of the sign hit the ground with a clatter, and silence fell again.
• • •
I didn’t have much time to savor my victory. I had been on camera, filmed working magic in violation of the Magic Act. I’d be locked into Devil’s Isle, where I’d sit behind bars and wait to become a wraith. There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have any magical endurance, so using it left me starving and dizzy. I took a breath, made myself concentrate, remember what I’d told myself to do, the list I’d made myself memorize just in case worse came to worst. That’s how I dealt with the real possibility I’d be found out: I had an escape plan. A bag and a goal. I’d head west into the country, across southern Louisiana toward Texas. That was the closest Zone border, and if I could get out of the Zone, I’d have a chance.
Follow the steps, I reminded myself. “Step one,” I quietly said, then repeated it again until the words made sense. “Step One: Go home.”
Easier said than done. I crept to the end of the alley, saw two flashlights bouncing up from the river end of Conti. I dodged down the street into the next doorway, pausing while the agents looked into the alley, and then hustled around the corner to Royal.
I hauled ass back to the store, nearly tripping over the uneven sidewalk as I reached the door. I pulled the keys from the dress’s pocket, but my hands were shaky, and it took three tries to get the right key and shift the tumblers home. When the lock snapped, I shoved the door open, slammed it shut behind me again, and ran to the narrow staircase that led to the building’s second and third floors.
