Devils & Thieves (Devils & Thieves #1)(63)

“Darek is a psychopath,” Crowe said. “And he murdered my father.”

Killian blinked at him in genuine surprise. “I never would have condoned that.”

Crowe looked away. If he had thought Killian was lying, he would have called him on it, but it was too painful for him to acknowledge that he believed a man he’d been so invested in hating. “Help us stop Darek now,” Crowe finally said, “and you’ve got yourself a truce.”

Killian ran his hand over his hair. His glasses were nowhere to be seen, probably a casualty of the fight. “He’s got them at the logging mill,” he said bleakly. “All of them.”

“All of them?” I asked. “What about animus—who else besides you has that kind of power?”

“He said he has someone already,” Killian said. “Which means if we don’t get there fast, he’s going to complete the spell.”

“And then he’s going to tear everyone I love apart,” growled Crowe. His power pulsed around him as he started to run along the path Hardy had taken. I followed, with Killian just behind me, panting heavily.

I’m part of this, I told myself firmly. There’s no turning back now. It’s going to happen no matter what. And I was willing to risk anything to save Alex and my parents, so it didn’t really matter whether I was ready to die or not.

I reminded myself of that over and over again as I ran, even though the rest of my mind was screaming to stop, to run, to go far away and hide from the truth that had been in Jane’s horrified eyes.

It was going to be me. Somewhere beyond these woods lay my fate, but that fate wasn’t in question anymore.

I was going to die. But maybe, just maybe, I could help save everyone else first.





SEVENTEEN


WE REACHED THE MASSIVE CLEARING OF THE LOGGING mill a few minutes to midnight. In the darkness, the decrepit building hulked like a beast surrounded by the bones of its victims. Stacked lumber and unprocessed logs had been left to rot under the rain and the sun, casualties of a failed business that had shut down a decade earlier. Crowe and his family owned this land now, but they’d never done anything with this part of it. The Sable River rushed along the eastern edge of the clearing, where the logs used to be sent downstream. The mill had been built right here on its banks, and the curve of the water hugged its edge, threatening to carry it away someday.

Light glowed from the windows on the second floor of the main structure. I pointed at it as Crowe crept in next to me. We were crouched behind a stack of damp, spongy wood. Killian stared up at the windows from his nearby hiding spot behind a rusted-out truck. “I tried to influence him when I realized what he was doing, but he’s been siphoning locant magic and using it to conjure shields against me.”

“Against all of us,” Crowe muttered.

“I might be able to take it down,” I said.

“He has other ways of defending himself. He can siphon any magic with a simple touch.”

I met Crowe’s gaze.

“I’ll be able to warn you about what he’s doing so you can defend yourself,” I whispered. “I can try to conjure a shield, but…” I looked down at my hands. Pulling barriers apart was one thing, but Darek had completely drained my locant magic just over an hour ago, and I wasn’t sure I could actually conjure one that would be effective.

“Hey, they’re over there!” someone shouted from our right. We’d been found. From between piles of lumber, a twist of green magic wafted into the sky.

“It might be a trick,” I whispered as footsteps sounded off nearby. “I can see inlusio.”

“Or it could be Flynn, under the influence of Killian’s stolen magic,” Crowe said, rising to his feet.

“Got ’em,” shouted another voice, from our left.

“We’re surrounded.” Crowe grabbed my hand and dragged me along first one aisle of lumber, then another. We ended up in a muddy area with piles of wooden disks, cross sections of trunks, some of which were large enough to serve as tabletops. Looking around wildly for a better hiding place, I headed between two enormous old metal saws, into a junkyard of abandoned trucks and other construction equipment. Crowe stayed behind me, maybe recognizing that I would have some warning if magic was coming our way.

And I did, but a moment too late. The bitter bite of ash and cinder hit me and brought me wheeling around. Darek stood with a gun to Killian’s head, crimson animus magic coiled around both of them. Darek’s other hand was wrapped around Killian’s neck, and streaks of ebony marred the red ribbons of Killian’s power. He was siphoning it and using it against his uncle yet again. “Thanks for bringing him back to me,” Darek said to me and Crowe.

“Go ahead and shoot him,” Crowe said.

Darek pulled the gun away from his uncle’s temple and pointed it at Crowe and me. “Nah. I’ve got a better use for him.”

Killian stared at him miserably while his own magic wrapped around his legs and his arms like the strings of a marionette. “You said you had someone else.”

“You’re the best, Killian. You’ve always been too weak to use your power, though. That’s why I need it. I’ll actually be able to put it to good use. Now, give me your knife.”

Stiffly, Killian reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a sturdy knife from a hidden holster. The blade glinted in the moonlight as he handed it over.