Strange and Ever After (Something Strange and Deadly #3)(90)

The battle thundered over me. In the space of a gasping breath, my eyes took in everything: clashing swords, hammering feet, and Jie’s wailing sobs. The queens’ guards swirled their swords faster than my eyes could follow.

But they were severely outnumbered.

I stumbled into Oliver. His face was flushed with relief, but I spared him no words, only a nod of soul-deep thanks before I staggered the two steps to Daniel.

His body was already stiffening. His lips blue. The blood on his chest was brown and congealed. And his head stayed on Jie’s lap as she continued to rock back and forth, screaming for him to wake up.

I couldn’t watch. Instead, I honed in on Jie’s face. On her weeping eyes.

“Where’s Joseph?” I shouted.

No response—I wasn’t even sure she heard.

But Oliver did. “Marcus has him.” He motioned into the fighting guards. “He collapsed right before I arrived, and Marcus reached him before I could.”

“I have to get him.” I swooped down and hefted my sword off the blood-covered sand. Daniel had died to protect Joseph; I would not let that sacrifice be for nothing. “You stay here and keep Jie safe.”

“No.” Oliver yanked the clappers from his belt. “I will get us through.” He thrust the ivory toward the attacking queens’ guards. Then he snagged my sleeve and yanked me onward.

The queens’ guards opened a path.

And we stepped into the battle.

Imperial spears stabbed at us; queens’ swords arced up. Tattered arms and shriveled skin blurred. It was an endless roar of slamming bodies and clanking weapons. Each step brought bronze armor and spear tips into my face, but always, swords would streak up and sling away the attacks.

On and on we moved, until I finally caught sight of Marcus. Just as he had done in Philadelphia all those months ago, he had Joseph by the collar, and he dragged. Joseph’s feet left two long trails in the sand. His eyes were closed.

I couldn’t tell if he was still alive. It didn’t matter; I was coming for him.

But the queens’ guards weren’t fast enough for me.

I shoved into the fray alone. I thrust and parried and screamed at the mummies to sleep. My magic blazed over my sword, blue and brilliant, and Oliver’s power scorched around me. Each mummy I met blasted back, briefly frozen. Each spear I hit snapped beneath the fury of my blade and my magic.

Until we finally reached the edge of the battlefield. Mummies gave chase, but Oliver’s magic and the queens’ guards kept them at bay.

I lurched into a run. Marcus was almost to his balloon two hundred paces away. He was almost to the boulder on which it was fastened.

And Joseph’s eyes stayed closed.

I screamed Marcus’s name. My heels kicked up sand. Moonlit dunes and crumbling ruins melted within my vision. But I wasn’t fast enough. Never as fast as I needed.

Marcus reached the boulder and slung Joseph across it. Then he knelt to his boot.

Silver flashed in his hand. A knife. Which meant Joseph wasn’t dead yet—and Marcus was finally doing what he’d planned all along.

But just as light glimmered on the blade, a second shimmer caught my eye. A movement in Joseph’s hand.

A crystal clamp.

Marcus stood, his back to us.

“Stop!” I shrieked.

“Attack!” Oliver bellowed beside me.

But slow. We were so slow.

Marcus reared back with the knife.

Not again, I thought. I would not let this happen. So with all the strength and soul I could summon, I threw my sword.

Tarnished and ancient, my magic carried it in a perfect line through the air. . . .

It sliced into Marcus’s back. All the way to the hilt.

His knife fell. He staggered into the stone . . . but immediately shoved himself back up. When he twisted around, blood bubbled from between his teeth.

For the tiniest space of a breath, I saw him as Elijah. My brother impaled.

But then he smiled, and his hands rose. This was not Elijah.

Magic rammed into me. Cloying and putrid, it charged over me—over Oliver and the queens’ guards.

I swayed back . . . and then clutched my throat.

I couldn’t breathe. Magic coated my throat, choked off my airway. My lungs heaved and fought, but there was nothing coming in. Nothing going out.

Shadows crossed my vision. Just a little air, I pleaded with my body, thrusting magic against him. I fought the oil sliding through me. I pushed it back out. . . .

But it didn’t work. Marcus continued to chant . . . and smile . . . and dig his fingers toward us. And the sword in his back began to push out of his body. The flesh mended with each passing second.

My legs buckled, and panic seared through my brain. Was this the end? A single spell to suffocate us?

Just as I tumbled toward the sand, I had enough time to see a dark figure rise up from behind the stone. Behind Joseph. Behind Marcus.

She lifted her arm, and a distant crack! pierced the fog inside me.

Blood exploded from Marcus’s forehead.

His spell lifted.

And I thrust back to my feet as Oliver staggered up beside me.

Crack!

Blood burst from Marcus’s chest, and Allison’s pistol smoked. She fired again. And again. Yet somehow, even as each bullet broke through him, Marcus stayed upright.

He was so strong.

But so was I.