And since I had my dad, at least part of him, in my head, and Greyson very much wanted to get his slathering jaws on him, I was pretty sure I could find him easier than anyone on this side of death.
I glanced at Zay and Chase and Terric. They were gone. Nothing but an empty field met my gaze. Right. I’d let go of the Sight spell.
Okay, let me add awesome Illusionist to Terric’s qualities. I drew Sight again, and sucked in a hard breath.
Terric pulled in a huge amount of magic from deep beneath the ground to fuel the Containment. He was breathing hard and steady, like a man enduring a brutal run. I knew he wasn’t about to drop, but I also knew there was a limit to his endurance.
Zayvion beat Chase back against the Containment. She stabbed her knife into the wall of magic Terric had created and drew the magic out of it, channeling it directly at Zay.
Not a spell. Not a glyph. She sent a raging stream of magic burning at Zay like a flamethrower.
Zay held one hand out, palm forward, blocking the flame like some superhero in a movie. Magic poured around him, flaring and sparking metallic colors, filling the Containment space. But it could not get through the walls Terric held.
Zay should cast a spell to knock her out. He should smack her with the blade, hell, punch her, tackle her.
Instead, Chase yelled. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I guessed it was a spell.
And the Illusion that Chase had been casting, holding this entire time, shattered.
Fast. Too fast.
One heartbeat: Chase fell to her knees.
She redirected the stream of magic. Past Zay, who ran now, toward her, trying to stop her.
Magic poured past him. Just like she wanted it to.
Poured into the shadowy figure who ran on all fours, liquid, faster than any man, even Zayvion, at Terric. It was Greyson. Greyson running toward Terric.
I whispered a mantra. Maybe it was a prayer. Pulled on as much magic as I could contain.
Greyson leaped at Terric.
Terric raised one hand. Slow. Too slow.
Zay twisted. Threw a spell at Greyson.
Chase was talking, singing, chanting.
Giving her magic, feeding Greyson.
And waiting.
For the second Zay’s back was turned.
For this second.
She threw her knife.
I yelled. Cast Hold. End. This had to stop. Something had to stop this. I had to stop this.
Greyson tore into Terric, knocked him down, sank teeth into his shoulder.
Magic slid under my feet, skipped, skittered, and was gone. The storm did it again-pulled magic out of my reach.
It was like someone had hit an off switch for me personally. I was empty. The magic I cast fizzled out before it even reached them.
I ran.
Chase’s knife found its target, buried hilt deep into Zay’s back. He yelled. And I heard it. Because Terric’s Containment was down.
Chase chanted. Fast, guttural. She was crying. And she was casting a spell.
The bitch.
Apparently magic was still working for her.
Zay stumbled, touched the ground with one hand, and pushed back up. Running. Pounding forward.
He was almost on Greyson. Spells and steel. He swung the machete.
Thunder rolled, a hard, crushing crack I felt in my bones. A gate between life and death burned into the air, yawned open between Terric and Zay.
Chase was a Closer. She knew how to close gates. She knew how to open them too.
Greyson let go of Terric, and lunged at Zayvion.
He leaped through the gate. From one side to the other. Onto Zay.
Terric rolled up on his knees. Raised a hand, threw magic at Greyson, at the gate.
Zay swung his sword, chanting a spell of pain and death.
But it was Greyson I heard. His growl. His howl. As he drank down all the magic, everything Terric threw. Everything Chase offered. Everything Zay swung. Sucked it all in. Then howled as Zay’s machete sliced into his ribs.
Except there was no blood.
What there was, was Greyson. Standing. More man than beast now. Muscled, naked, angry. Insane.
He cast magic, in exact and perfect rhythm and beauty with Chase.
Soul Complements.
Beautiful, battered, she moved up behind Zayvion, holding him trapped, the magic from her hands, the magic from Greyson’s hands, caging Zay and burning into his skin.
Burning into me.
Soul Complements. Rarest of the rare. We shared each other’s pain.
Just because Chase and Greyson hadn’t tested didn’t mean they weren’t meant for each other. Didn’t mean they couldn’t use magic together. Didn’t mean they couldn’t make magic do things it was never meant to do.
Didn’t mean they couldn’t become one person, one caster, one soul.
With one desire.
Kill Zayvion Jones.
I was almost there, almost there. My heart ran faster than my feet. My mind spun.
Greyson and Chase cast, chanted, bent magic to their will. Made it beautiful. Horrifying. And tore Zayvion apart.
Hold on, hold on, hold on. A chant, a fear I could not contain. Spilling out of me. With my breath. With his blood.
I could feel Zayvion’s heartbeat slowing. Too slow. Thudding. Heavy. Gone. Watched him fall to the ground. For a second, a moment, I saw him, on the ground, but also standing next to himself-seven-foot-tall warrior clothed in nothing but black flame and silver glyphs. Freed from his body, he still carried a shadow of the machete.
He swung it at Greyson’s head.
Just as Chase cast another spell, and threw it at the gate.
Greyson roared, a yell, more beast than man. The gate exploded, tendrils of magic whipping out tentacles, like fire, like a nightmare I could not stop, could not reach, could not end.
“No!” I yelled.
But the tendrils hooked into the dark warrior spirit of Zayvion and dragged him into the gate.
Something huge, fast, ran behind me, ran past me.
Shame?
No. Stone. Howling like a freight train from hell, he launched at Greyson. Wings pumped the air, and he came down, crushing the Necromorph into the ground.
Chase screamed. Fell to her knees. Lost hold of magic.
With her spell no longer feeding it, and Greyson’s spell no longer feeding it, the gate closed.
Zayvion did not move. Did not breathe. I felt the absence of his heartbeat like a ragged pain emptying me of everything-thought, heart, breath.
Emptying me of everything except anger.
I strode across the remaining distance, my sword drawn. Terric lay in a bloody heap to my left. I could still feel his heartbeat against my wrist.
Greyson snarled and squirmed beneath the crushing weight of Stone. Chase knelt, not far from both the gargoyle and the Necromorph, hands over her face, as if she endured, or maybe even Proxied for, the beating Greyson was receiving.
There was no magic in me. The approaching edge of the storm had sucked it out. I couldn’t access the magic deep in the earth. I didn’t know why.
But I had a backup. The magic I’d always had in me, the magic I was born with. A tiny flame no bigger than the flicker of a birthday candle.
I had just enough magic to cast one spell. And I was not going to waste it.
“Stone,” I said. “Tear him apart.”
The big bruiser snarled. Greyson and Chase screamed in unison. Music to my ears.
I knelt next to Zayvion. Bloody, bruised, he was mostly intact. A trail of blood tracked down his forehead, slick over his closed eyes and his nose, and filling the valley of his soft, thick lips.
I didn’t have to press my hand against his neck or wrist. I knew he had no heartbeat.
And I knew I had only a little magic.
I closed my eyes, calmed my mind. Focused on the small magic within me. I placed my hand on his chest, over his heart.