Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(47)

“Is that the best you can do?” I yelled with a laugh, knowing it was foolhardy yet not really caring. At this point, the lone weapon I had was snark. I had better use it, considering I could hardly see straight. My body was barely more stable than a puppy as I attempted to find my feet, my Chuck Taylors squeaking loudly in the open space.

I hadn’t even stood before sparks of colors and sharp, conjured knives fanned toward me with a bang like a cannon.

Falling back to the ground in a crouch, I held my arms up in a shield, magic spreading from my skin in a wide bubble that wrapped around me in a sheath of grey. In my head, it was a shield so powerful it should have blocked anything. It would have if I hadn’t been in such a rush to get it up. In reality, it was barely strong enough to deflect her attacks.

I could feel the tiny pokes of strain as the knives hit the shield before falling to the floor with a clang. The heat of her magic seeped through the thin barrier, oozing into me like a painful gas I already knew I didn’t want to feel the full force of.

I waited, desperate for her attacks to stop before the shield gave out. I shouldn’t have expected her to give up that easily. As though I was trapped in the middle of a war, the attacks increased, explosions and knives and who knew what else coming at me.

I was vulnerable, crouched down like this with the shield up, and she knew it. Forget that silly rock and its dumb hard place. That didn’t even make sense. There was nothing worse than a weak shield and a powerful best friend with no shame.

I was doomed.

“Give up yet?” she shouted in a lull of attacks, her voice heavy and playful and pulling at me in all the wrong ways. “Or are you still pretending to be a master assassin?”

“Ha! I’ll never surrender!”

Darn me and my stubbornness. I could kill myself for getting into the position, and if this had been a real fight, it would have killed me. Of course, if this had been a real fight, I would have killed her by now.

Either way, it was a stupid move, like eating cheese out of a can.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” she taunted, the laugh poorly concealed in her voice.

I groaned loudly enough for her to hear, mentally kicking myself. “No fair, Joclyn.”

“Come and face your reward, Wynifred!” It was a taunt, a loud one, and I groaned louder. I guessed I deserved the full name. I had started it in any case.

I would have to be grateful she didn’t know my middle name.

“You can’t call this…”

Mommy?



I froze with my mouth open, ice rippling through me, the game and the battle and the barrier all but forgotten. It was all gone in one haunting word that rang loud and clear through my mind.

I couldn’t breathe. I could barely see straight through the panic. It was her voice, the same pleading that had haunted me for months, the same gut-wrenching heartbreak that ran through me. You would think I would have managed it better after so long, that I would have gotten used to it.

But I didn’t think there was a way to.

Not with this.

Mommy? Where are you?



“Rosaline.” It was a whisper, but I regretted saying it instantly. It was as though the shard of blade in my pocket could hear me. No, as if she could hear me, as if she could react to me.

“What did you say? Did you say you give up?” Jos asked playfully, her voice sounding like it was a million miles away.

Everything was warm, too warm. Heat was radiating from the tiny shard of souls and blood that I kept concealed, the voice coming again, making me flinch.

Mommy? Where are you?

“Wyn?” Joclyn’s voice came simultaneously with hers, but I wasn’t even convinced I heard it. I wasn’t even convinced anything existed behind the way everything twisted inside of me. Behind this past I was trapped in.

Mommy?

My hands ground against the floor as I stared at it while it shifted in and out of focus. I tried to concentrate on anything that would pull me out of this quickly descending spiral, but nothing was working.

I needed to get out of there before I did something stupid.

“Are you okay, Wyn?” The humor was gone from Joclyn’s voice.

I flinched, a fear I couldn’t quite place taking over.

“Are you crying?”

Was I crying? I couldn’t focus on anything beyond her voice, beyond the memories.

Mommy! Save me!



“No!” I snapped, uncertain if it was to Rosy or Jos.

“You better not be messin’ with me … I’m not going to fall for it, Wyn.” She was worried; I could tell. However, it didn’t stop the way my magic had begun to bubble, the way the fear was ripping through me in painful waves of heaviness and heat. “Wyn?”

Mommy? She was crying, too. Please.



I needed to go.

I didn’t care how; I needed to go.

Fingers digging into the stone, back arched, breathing ragged in my ears, I felt my magic grow, felt the heat of it, felt the desperation taking over. A small voice in the back of my head screamed at me that the magic was too strong. If only it was louder … if only I cared…

In a burst of fire, my magic spread over the floor so fast I wasn’t sure Joclyn could avoid it even if she was paying close attention. I felt the stones. I felt the raw power of the fire magic move into them, heating them as the floor shifted underneath her, sending her tumbling to the ground.