The Young Elites (The Young Elites, #1)(53)

He never finishes his sentence. One of the Daggers lunges for him with the speed of a striking viper—he twists the man’s arm around and stabs him straight through his chest with his own sword. A real Dagger. Dante. The other Inquisitors turn at his shriek, then attack the Spider, but he’s far too quick for them. He cuts them down in quick succession. His movements blur in the night, so that even after I erase the false Daggers, it looks as if there were more than one of him. The last Inquisitor at this pier tries to run for his life. Dante catches him before he can, and runs a dagger across his throat.

Up at the festivities, some revelers finally notice what’s going on.

Screams go up—then complete chaos.

My mind races. I move on to the third pier, then the fourth. We slaughter the Inquisitors as more patrols rush from the festivities in our direction. So much death.

My eye goes again to the roofs closest to the piers—and this time, I see figures stir. The other Daggers, flesh and blood, their faces hidden behind masks and hooded sapphire robes. One of them rises up from her crouch, carefully notches an arrow to her bow, and aims at the Inquisitors. Gemma. Above her swirls a circle of ravens—when she lets the arrow fly, the ravens plummet down, aiming in unison for the enemy. My illusion of phantom Daggers moving along the walls flickers for a moment, but I grit my teeth and sharpen my concentration. The phantom Daggers turn solid again. More Inquisitors run in their direction.

The Inquisitors are now within firing range. Suddenly, one of them is yanked straight up into the air. He lets out a strangled shriek as he’s thrown up as high as the top of the buildings, then plummets to his death. I wince—my illusions shudder again. That was Lucent’s work. Up above, more arrows rain down, one piercing the throat of a second Inquisitor.

Hurry, Enzo. As the other Daggers kill the Inquisitors with ruthless efficiency, I clench my teeth in desperation. I want to leave this place. I glance over to the ship docked at the first pier.

And there I see him—Enzo, this time with his face entirely covered by a hood and silver mask. He flashes through the inky blackness of the night. There one moment, gone the next. My cue to get out of here.

Dante grabs my arm, then breaks into a sprint. The wind rushes past us. In a matter of seconds, we’ve crossed the sand and grass and run into the shadows of the festivities overlooking the harbor. Screams everywhere. I drop the illusions I’ve been holding. The threads of energy all snap back into place, and I gasp at the sudden emptiness.

The first ship explodes.

The blast knocks me right off my feet. The earth shudders; screams burst from everyone around me. I cover my eye from the blinding glow, and when I squint through my hand at the inferno, I see a rainbow of fireworks light up the night sky in a terrifying display of glory. Fire and fireworks consume the ship’s deck. I picture Enzo setting each of the ships ablaze, his figure a shadow in the night.

Rough hands yank me up onto my feet. “Get to the Messenger,” Dante hisses at me. Then he vanishes into the crowd, his eyes fixed on other Inquisitors.

I fight my way through the crowd, remembering my next step. Meet Raffaele at the end of the square. He’ll usher you to safety. The energy in the air is like lightning—I can practically smell the terror—the power crackling all around me in a glittering shower of energy threads. The darkness inside me hungers for it, yearning to break free, and I have to force down the irresistible urge to flood this entire square with illusions of Underworld monsters. So much power around me, going to waste. For a moment, I attempt to shroud myself in invisibility—but too many people are jostling past me, and every time I start to throw the illusion over myself, I’m jolted out of it. Finally I just give up and continue running.

It takes me a moment to realize that some in the crowd are cheering. They raise their fists to the sky at the fireworks and flames. They watch the dazzling display with smiles on their faces. I recall what Raffaele had told me earlier. Let the Inquisition Axis see what happens when they force us to humiliate ourselves. The people here are cheering on the Young Elites. Applauding the strike.

At the piers, a second ship explodes. Then, a third. An unstoppable chain reaction continues along the water’s edge, each ship’s demise causing the next, until flames and exploding fireworks consume the entire harbor, transforming the night into day, orange and yellow everywhere I look, the earth trembling from the sheer energy released into the sky. Explosions, the roar of flames, the shouts of thousands of people—it all swirls together into deafening chaos. Never could I have imagined panic like this. Their fear pools in me, a black and powerful current.

I have to find Raffaele. I turn a corner into a narrower alley in an attempt to get away from the frenzied crowds. For a moment, I’m alone. Almost there. My slippers hit a puddle, and cold water splashes against my ankles.

Something white flashes before my face.

Before I can react, a hand catches me around my neck and shoves me against the wall. I see spots exploding before me. Blindly, I strike out.

A voice chuckles at my antics. I freeze. I recognize that voice. The white blur that flashed past my eye now stills into the unmistakable look of an Inquisitor’s cloak. “Well, well, well,” the voice says. “A Tamouran girl.”

I stare into Teren’s face.

No. Not here. Not tonight.

The sight is enough to unleash my energy. I bare my teeth at him as a red-eyed demon lunges out from the wall behind me and throws itself at Teren with a shriek. Teren flinches for a split second, but his grip never lightens. His eyes widen in surprise.