Page 8 of Claim the Twilight
“Singer!” Charles calls from the gates. “Get back here. The gates are electrified.”
Boom!
The air crackles and bites at my skin as a wall of blue energy shoots up between the angry mob and everyone on my side of the physical barrier.
The cacophony of sound drops, muted by the magic keeping the crowd at bay. Several drones appear in the air above the mob, and a moment later, a mist falls over the people. They stop gesticulating and shouting and go still, looking at each other in a daze.
“What the fuck is going on?” I turn to Charles, but he looks just as flummoxed as me.
The crowd parts in front of me, and a figure walks through. I know this man. Lorenzo Crescent. Mageri and Orina’s friend.
He walks through the blue wards, and the physical barrier parts of its own accord to allow him through before shifting back into place behind him.
“Ordell.” His expression echoes the tumult of emotions inside me. “Any communication from the white wings?”
Straight to the point. I like this man. “Nothing.” I glance behind him at the people who are now drifting away. “What did you do?”
“A little calming mist courtesy of the mageri council. We must keep this incident quiet to avoid panic. A further boundary and more wards have been erected a mile from here. A chemical spill is the story that will be circulated. We’ve informed the press.”
The blue wards behind him flicker. “How long will your wards hold?”
“A few hours. The mageri who erected them have been instructed in what to do.”
“Have you heard from Orina?”
His mouth tightens, and he shakes his head. “I spoke to Ezekiel the night Loviator broke free. Before…before it happened. Orina was missing at the time. I haven’t been able to get through to anyone in Dracul since.”
Oh god. That awful feeling in my belly is real.
“The wards disrupt regular technology,” he continues. “But I have this.” He pulls a phone from his pocket. “Once we’re inside, it will give us a direct line to the mageri out here.”
Yes, we need to get inside. “Where the fuck are the white wings?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I arrived here early yesterday morning, and we sent several signals. They didn’t respond. I left once I saw the crowds gathering. I had a suspicion that thingsmight get…hostile.” He glances at the blue wards and beyond where the crowd has now dispersed.
Uniformed people walk among them. Regular law enforcement passing out fliers. Spreading the lie about a chemical spill that will hopefully placate the masses.
Maybe I was wrong to speak the truth.
“Come,” Lorenzo says. “We can try calling on the white wings again.” The tension rippling off him matches mine a little too acutely, and I can’t help but wonder how close he and Orina are. Or how close they’ve become.
He went to the Isle with her, after all, and Orina and I didn’t have a chance to speak about her time there in detail, but Hemlock told me the witches tried to kill her. That Lorenzo saved her.
“Orina is lucky to have a friend like you.” I watch carefully for his reaction, and he watches me right back for several seconds before the corner of his mouth lifts in a wry smile.
“Orina and I are more than friends.”
I exhale. “Right. And you know that she and I are?—”
“I do. I don’t care who she loves as long as she’s safe.”
My stomach clenches because I know deep down that she isn’t.
“What is it?” he asks, eyes narrowing. “What do you know?”
“I don’tknowanything, but I feel…I can’t feel her any longer.”
He takes a sharp breath. “She bonded to your beast, didn’t she? And you could feel her before and now…” He briefly closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they’re bright with determination. “The wards could be blocking your connection. We need the damn white wings. And we need them now!”
