Page 115 of Magic Claimed
“That’s the gateway,” I told them, holding tightly to my own sense of relief as I pointed to the swirling circle of colors that hung in the air just off the surface of the platform. “We’re going to step through it one by one. Shane will go first”—he nodded in agreement—“to scout for enemies, and then you’ll follow. I’ll go last.”
Shane didn’t pause or hesitate, just moved forward, leaped through the circle, and disappeared.
“How do we know this won’t drop us right into oblivion?” Jeremiah demanded, suspicion written plainly across his features. “Or someplace even worse than this?”
“You don’t,” I returned bluntly. “This time you’re going to have to trust that we have no desire to hurt you. We want you to make it home, and we’ll do our best to get you there safely, but the first step is going to have to be one of faith.”
The teens all looked at each other, and Tabitha was the first to move forward. “What do I have to lose?” she murmured, and stepped through the gateway.
One by one, the others followed, and as the last of them jumped through, I drew in a deep breath and turned to take one more look at the screens on the wall.
Smoke. There was so much smoke. The crowds were no longer visible, but there was rubble in the street. Fires smoldering on every side. A lone figure running as if her life depended on it.
All else was obscured.
My city was a war zone, and I was walking right into the middle of it.
But that was exactly where I belonged, and as I stepped through the gateway into the unknown, it was with a sense of purpose and grim anticipation.
Blake had made his play, and he believed his victory was inevitable.
But the game wasn’t over yet.
We leftthe kids in my empty apartment, with instructions not to leave until the battle was over or we came back for them.
If Blake and his people won, there was nothing I could do for them anyway. They might still be able to escape and make it home, but I wouldn’t be able to help them.
And ifwewon? They would be safe there until we could return and reunite them with their families.
As Shane and I descended the stairs, the air felt strangely quiet. After the scenes I’d just witnessed from the cameras on Broadway Avenue, I expected to hear the sounds of chaos, but none penetrated the brick walls around us.
The silence was no comfort. It made me wonder if we’d already lost.
“Where are the battle lines?” Judging by Shane’s grim expression, he was already gearing up for a fight. “Could you see anything on the monitors?”
“Nothing conclusive. Just smoke. Burned buildings. Cracked streets.”
Where was Callum?
I could feel him now, but dimly, and I didn’t know if that was due to his condition or mine. At least he was alive.
Everythingelse we could fix.
We reached the foot of the stairs, raced for the front door, and stepped out into an apocalyptic nightmare.
I wondered distantly whether Kevin had made it to safety, but those thoughts were quickly overwhelmed by the reality of the destruction stretching in every direction
Smoke billowed thickly through the air. Abandoned cars dotted the road at odd angles, doors left open, some half-fallen into the cracks that criss-crossed Sheridan Avenue. The trees that lined the sidewalk were toppled and smoldering, while across the street, the hotel’s windows appeared to have been blown out.
Bricktown was shattered and burning, and the fight wasn’t over yet.
From the southeast, we could hear the sound of screams, the crash of metal against metal, the roar of wind-whipped flames, and the rumble of the earth moving underfoot. Elementals doing battle at a distance, while shifters scrabbled tooth and claw, and wildkin wielded the weapons of their own kind.
I looked to the right, peering west down the length of Sheridan Avenue, and barely made out the rubble that had once been the railroad bridge—now a pile of twisted metal rails, crumbled concrete, and shattered railroad ties blocking the road.
Preventing an exit or a roadblock to stop the enemy?
From somewhere beyond the rubble, I saw the flash of red and blue lights from emergency vehicles—the humans, waiting for the battle to be over.
