Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(69)

It flared from my palm in an orb of red and black, growing to the size of a small car in mere seconds before I released it into the air toward the monsters, burning a hole in the web in a ring of flame that quickly moved through the rest of them, weaving its way through the creatures like a burning wick.

The smell of singed flesh assaulted me as we flew through the carnage, my feet hitting asphalt as I ran away from them, sure they were following me, but not really carrying at that point.

I was kind of enjoying burning the little things.

Bring it on.

We turned a sharp corner into one of the many courtyards that rattled the city, the stone square one I had visited many times throughout my life. It had always been beautiful, full of life, full of laughing lovers and tourists.

Now, it was red and black, the sound of pain and fear so strong it rippled through me in a tangible wall that turned my blood to ice.

People screamed as they ran through the open space, frantic to reach the buildings that stood around them and the supposed safety they offered, only to end up pounding on doors that were already barred against them. While some ran, so many more had already fallen, curled into themselves as they writhed, as they screamed, as the tiny things ripped into them, awakening their magic, turning them into another of Edmund’s pawns.

The large statue of Jan Hus stood on the other end of the square, the green copper of her face streaked with the blood of those who had tried to escape, her body covered with the tiny creatures.

As one, they caught sight of me, of my sagging shoulders and the tangle of hair that fell over my face. Their joy echoed around me in a screech that drowned out the pain they had caused.

I looked at them for only a moment, my magic flaring aggressively in a wanton desire to attack, to flare, to rip the world with fire and destroy the beasts, but not here. Not now.

I didn’t know if Thom had made it to the clock yet, and there were too many innocents. I wanted to help them, not kill them.

I could still fight.

With one burst, a wall flew away from me, rumbling over the old cobbles as it flew toward the Vil?s that would attack us, toward their distorted faces and the fangs that dripped with blood.

I looked at the powerful attack for only a moment before I began to run toward the side street and the corner where the clock stood only a few steps ahead, a few precious paces until safety.

I passed the humans as they screamed, as they writhed, my magic ripping the creatures away from them as I went, knowing there was nothing else I could do. Uncertain if I should put them out of their misery.

It was only screams.

Only fire.

Only blood and the sound of my shoes against the cobbles, Ryland beginning to writhe in the air beside me as he woke.

Within mere steps, the door came into view. The old wooden slab covered with claw marks, a few dead creatures huddled to the side.

Almost as if someone had already made it inside, as if someone else was safe.

Hope of their safety flared inside of me like a beacon, bright and powerful as the door swung open, and I flung Ryland into its depths without a second look.

“Wyn?” The voice came from somewhere above, and I calmed. Even though Sain’s was not the voice I wanted to hear, it would do for now.

I didn’t stop to see if Ryland was safe, if he was waking up. I didn’t stop to see if Sain was coming to help the boy. I only turned on my heels, framing the door as I faced the wall of creatures that had followed us, faced the blood and carnage I had left behind. Now, it didn’t matter if they followed the flame.

Let them come.

I would burn them all.

My magic reacted without me, flaring into the darkened road in an explosion that rocked the ancient building I stood in then rippled down the old stones of the streets and the stores that had stood there for hundreds of years. It singed the very air as the creatures disintegrated into nothing. The poor people who still walked fled from it, the ones who lay bleeding put out of their misery.

A pang of guilt I never would have felt before roared through me in an angry wave as I moved into the darkness behind me, the heavy wooden door of the space closing with a thud.

I jerked at the sound, regretting what I had done, regretting taking the lives of all those people. All the ones that lay on the street.

I knew they weren’t all dead. I had heard them moan, seen them writhe. I had heard their pain as the poison Edmund had engineered moved through them, awakening their magic, infecting it and turning them into just another of his puppets.

I had lived that nightmare for years, and I didn’t wish it on anyone.

I held to that as I battled the regret that was corrupting me. The guilt at such pointless loss made me wonder if perhaps there had been a way to save them, to help them.

If we could have saved them.

If I could have helped instead of destroyed.

We would never know.

I tried to push away the emotion that kept growing and turned into the dark toward the boy that was writhing as he began to wake up. His body was limp and pained from exhaustion and insanity.

With one hand against his forearm, I plunged him back to sleep, his body lifting itself as my tiny frame hoisted him over my shoulder, carrying him awkwardly as I ascended the stairs toward Sain’s voice and the men who hadn’t left my mind.

I needed to know they were okay. All of them. I need to see them with my own eyes.

My heart pulsed painfully with each step, each one taken at a run before I burst through the ancient, carved door at the top of the narrow stairwell and to the three men I had been so ecstatic to see. Whom I had been so concerned about.