Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(18)

I fought the irritation at her oh-so-obvious statement, hating how right she was.

Novy ?idovsky h?bitov. The old Jewish cemetery. Perfect.

He would follow me there, but I knew it well enough that he would never catch me. See me, yes, but not reach me. Besides, what was more haunting than an apparition amongst tombstones?

Moving through the stutter, I kept my eyes wide, ready to begin running the second I reappeared in the old graveyard. The lines of past and present moved through the darkness I traveled in, the colors bright against my vision before they left me staring at the red world again.

Darting through the old, broken tombstones, my heart thundered in eager anticipation, shoulders tense, everything in me trained on the silence, waiting for the faint pop of magic to signal the chase had begun.

As I ducked behind a large mausoleum, the same pop boomed in my ears. Then there was a low grunt of pressure as someone fell to the ground.

Wonderful.

They were here.

Now I needed them to see me, to see the cloak, to have Joclyn feel my magic. It was something that should be concerning since she was my daughter and should know the signal of my magic. But she didn’t know me.

Even with my magic fully charged and broadcasting, she would never know it was me. Even as her father, she would have no idea. She had never felt the full magic of the Drak before.

No one had. I was the only one who possessed it, after all.

But soon, everyone would feel it. Everyone would know what Draks were fully capable of.

Darting from behind the large, cement building, I ran between two smaller tombstones, attempting to give them the best possible shot of me, trying not to laugh as the gasp of fear and surprise hit my ears. I was grateful for the large headstone in front me, the massive thing perfectly placed to dodge the single stream of violent magic fired my way.

Swearing loudly, I plastered myself to the back of the massive pillar, gasping for air as my heart raced. I hadn’t counted on that. They were closer, more aggressive than I had thought.

I needed to be more careful.

It was a shame, really, that I could not control her magic right then, that I was not able to trigger another broken sight within her mind. It would be enough to send her reeling. However, my magic was too focused on the task at hand. Besides, connecting to her now, letting her feel my magic from a different side could be dangerous.

The soft crunch of dying grass bounced off the forest of stones, their steps slow as they approached me. The heavy pulse of my heart seemed comical against the snails they were.

I didn’t dare move out from behind the monument, certain they would hear my heart race if they got much closer.

Too bad I didn’t have a choice.

Last one.

It was all she needed to say. The last jumping point was always the same. It had to be in order to intersect with the underground pool of magic that gave me enough power to pull through the barrier.

Sucking in a breath, I steeled myself against what was coming, knowing I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t throw up a shield if I wanted to have enough power to make it through the barrier. I had one shot, so I had better make it good.

Running out from behind the old headstone, I darted between a garden of ancient statues as stream after stream of debilitating attacks were sent my way. Then, disappearing with a snap, the stutter pulled me into the long, endless street of old town, the high buildings surrounding me on all sides.

I had run down this street a million times before, run to the same intersection, burst through the barrier unscathed. For the first time, however, I was scared.

They were close, and they had already shown they weren’t afraid to stop me. Here, there was no cover, no alley, nothing more than a straight runway until my next stutter when I would exit the tepid confines of the dome.

The vulnerability of it made me a sitting duck.

At a dead run, I moved, everything tense and fearful as I tried to focus. The dread increased tenfold at the sight of the long, blond mane of a man who landed right before me. It was all I could do not to scream.

I could see his tall frame, the anger and hatred gleaming in his eyes, waiting to attack, his hair fanning around his powerful build. He looked right at me, but I knew he couldn’t see me, not with the hood shadowing my face, not with the darkness and shadow that surrounded us.

The glow of power sped from his hand in a brilliant purple flame that would incapacitate me if it had time to make contact.

I never even saw it leave his hand before the faint pop of the stutter surrounded me, sending me out of that space and into a field that had been a farm, but there, in the dead of winter, it was little more than endless rows of withered corn stalks. Twisted crumbs of lifeless flora swayed in the bitter winter wind that tugged at the cape that was now a necessity.

My heaving breath flowed before me in millions of specs of white ice, the yellow sun and blue sky hovering above like crude shapes in a child’s drawing.

The other side of the barrier.

Try as others might, only I could move through it … Or rather, only I had the power needed to do it. However, I let Ovailia and Edmund think the move was made possible by their connection, by the control they had over me.

Another simple lie, ripe with benefits.

“Hello, Sain,” Her voice was the distorted silk it had always been, the sound of seduction and pleasure and gain. So fake, so forced. I had heard her true nature a few times before, and I would always prefer it to this. She seemed to think whatever she was putting into this fa?ade was an asset; however, she was all acid and vice, everything about her coated with so much malice any lust she tried to conjure was cracked.