Page 47 of Shattered Stars
“What’s wrong?” Ellie whispers, her face full of concern as she reads my emotions. I shake my head unable to speak, not sure what the hell to do.
If Spencer knew who the man facing him tonight really was, I have no doubt he’d try to kill him. But no matter how powerful Spencer is, Renzo is just as strong and clearly insane. If Spencer tries to kill him, he’ll return the favor tenfold.
My stomach churns. I don’t want Spencer hurt. I don’t want him todie. But do I want Renzo to get away? To escape? Isn’t this the perfect chance to capture him? Then I’d no longer have to live in fear that he’s following me, watching me. I’d be free – or at least freer.
I screw up my eyes. Because there’s another thought lingering at the back of my mind. One I don’t want to acknowledge. That I don’t want to consider. It’s crazy, stupidly crazy for me to feel that way. But no matter how hard I try to stop that thought from leaping forward into my consciousness, it does anyway.
I don’t want Renzo dead. I don’t even want him hurt.
What the hell is wrong with me?
A crack of magic has me jolting, my eyes flying open; they’re already fighting. It’s already begun. I don’t think I can stay and watch, and yet my feet are rooted to the ground. I can’t move. I can’t stop looking as they fling their magic at one another, twisting and lunging and spinning. Some magic slams into their bodies and despite the smell of burned flesh, they hardly flinch, continuing to fight. Other magic spirals overhead, or skids across the floor, the crowd scurrying backwards to avoid it.
It’s mesmerizing, almost beautiful, the way they move like some violent ballet, choreographed to perfection.
“Come on, Spencer!” Tristan calls out from the other side of Ellie.
She squeezes on to me, speaking to him or maybe me or maybe no one in particular when she says, “That other guy is really strong. This is so evenly matched. Have you ever seen this man fight before, Tris?”
“No, never,” Tristan hisses, wincing as a bolt of magic hits Spencer’s leg. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“When does it end?” I murmur to Ellie, as magic slices at Renzo’s face, and blood slides down his cheek.
“When one of them concedes,” she says.
I grimace. When one of them concedes?! I know both these men and I know conceding is not something either of them will do. No way. They’d rather fight to the end than give in. And I can’t stand and watch that. I can’t watch them tear each other apart, my bond smarting with pain every impact they make, until I’m hunched over, clutching my stomach.
I need to get away.
I turn, take a stumbling step forward and then all hell breaks loose.
The lights cut out. Someone bellows “cops!”, and in the distance sirens blare.
People flee, pushing and crashing past one another, all trying desperately to reach the exit at the far side of the Warehouse. Some people are pushed to the floor. Some trampled in the stampede. People are shouting and screaming. Magic streaks above our heads and the floor is shaking again with the thud of a thousand boots.
I try to run too, but I’m buffeted and bashed, carried forward by the press of people, then knocked to the ground. People trip over me, their feet catching on my body. Somehow I pull myself back to my feet, dizzy and confused, my ribs aching where a foot kicked them. More people collide into me and the breath is struck out of me.
The sirens are blasting now and spinning blue light penetrates through the overhead windows. There’s more shouting. People screaming for their friends. I don’t know which way to go. I start to panic as I’m flung to the floor a second time.
And then a strong hand lands on my shoulder and drags me to my feet.
15
Spencer
“Pig Girl,”I shout right into her face. “What the hell are you doing?”
She looks right back at me as people crash around her, horror and incomprehension clear on her face.
Her hands fly to the locket hanging around her neck.
“You can see me?” she asks.
“What?” I say, frowning. “Of course I can fucking see you.” I shake my head like she’s insane. “What the hell are you doing standing around? Didn’t you hear? The cops are coming – we need to get out of here.”
I take a grip of her upper arm, ignoring the way she attempts to shake me off, and pull her along after me as I crash through the crowds of people, heading for the far exit.
“I don’t need your help,” she growls, tugging on my arm. “And I sure as hell don’t want it.”
