Page 57 of Down from the Tower

And through it, shadows appear. Zarev’s face fills the windowsill, his orange-red eyes full of murder even from here.

I blink as the flower man leans into my vision again. If Zarev is still injured, he can’t fight as well as he normally could. I saw the battle with Midas, but this – this is something wholly new.

My head warms again. If I can push any magic out, it might be able to help. Healing would be great, but right now if I tried to help myself I’d just be giving them more reasons to cut me again.

But, I can melt. And this place is already warm…

My head bobs, and I realize I’m close to passing out from the heat. Or the pain. Or both. Still, I force my hands to fists, trying to focus my magic into my hands and hair and hopefully push outward.

When the blue guy leans in again, I scream behind the sludge and let my magic pulse out from me.

There’s a roar, or maybe a ringing in my ears. It’s hard to tell, but the bindings around my hands turn spongey, and I’m able to jerk my wrists free.

I collapse forward, my bound feet nearly making me slam my face into the floor. My knees scream in protest, and I blink down at the floor several times before I can focus on the boards.

Reaching up, I tear at the sludge in my mouth. It’s malleable when warm, and I pull out chunks of putty with my fingers, gasping for air now that my mouth is no longer forced open.

The ringing subsides in my head, morphing to screams.

I snap my head around, looking for the blue flower. He’s not in the same spot, but the wailing noise I hear in the distance sounds like a female voice.

I blink again, reaching back to grasp the cord wrapped around my legs. I pull weakly but it must be the heat because it gives with a few pulls, and I fall against the floor.

Everything screams. It hurts to breathe and the skin all along my shoulders and collarbone wail in pain. I force myself to roll to one side near the table, knowing I can only give myself a moment to breathe.

That’s when I see Zarev, dark shadows flying all around him as he paces towards the sunflower-headed madame.

“Reaper,” she growls.

“I knew I sensed a weed,” he replies, his eyes seeming to glow. “How did a Flowerborne end up so far from Wonderland?”

The creature hisses, those jagged teeth flashing in the lights. “You are not welcome here!”

“Sorry to spoil the fun,” Zarev goes on, his eyes dancing all around. When they land on me, I swear he sneers around the shadows. They almost encompass him, but there’s still not enough blocking my view to miss the way his teeth seem to lengthen.

“Rapunzel! Go!”

Madame snarls, her sunflower head seeming to puff up bigger and bigger. Her face turns a bright yellow as she grows. “This is my meal! Begone!”

Zarev chuckles, before nodding his head at me before leaping at the beast. I watch as the shadows form in his hands while the flower's mouth opens wide to expose her teeth. She throws out inhuman hands as she meets his lunge.

He slams the shadows into her, but she leans into the force and tries to swipe at his feet. Before she can even connect with him, everything from his hips down fades to shadow, and her arms flail uselessly through him.

I almost smile at that. She can’t fight a shadow.

Hands lock around my ankles, and I scream as I’m dragged backward. “Pretty girl.”

The blue flower flips me over as he pulls, making me scream in pain. I hold up my arms, ready to block his attacks if I can.

The flower growls, a very unusual thing to hear from a face framed by petals. “If Madame is too busy to cook you just right, I’ll do the honors.”

He starts pulling me across the room, and my hands fly out to try and grasp a hold of anything. The floor is too warm against my back and the layers of what’s left of my skirt slide high on my thighs as he continues to pull my kicking legs.

My hair tangles around my hands as I fight, unable to call forth more magic like a moment before. I did some damage to him, some of the petals around his face wilting or completely missing. No burns, not like the pains that I feel, but there’s rage on his strange face.

Debris and random objects pull on my hair as we go but it’s stronger than regular hair, so it’s not ripping out of my scalp. As I kick and twist in his grip, my hands lasso the hair in my arms as best I can to keep it from pulling. The hot ground scrapes my back, and whatever I did a moment ago I don’t think I have the energy to repeat.

“Into the oven with you,” he says, hooking his hands around my knees. I try to catch his face with my heels, but he’s persistent in avoiding my kicks. Glancing over to my side there’s something gigantic sitting there -

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