Page 111 of The Song Rising

“Paige, come on,” she gasped. “Stay with us.” Nick clung to my hand so tightly it hurt as the knot of warm bodies tightened around us. Shoulders closed together; heads banged; backs clapped against chests. More Vigiles were moving toward us—and black stallions, each bearing the weight of a military commandant. Their body armor, combat helmets, and heavy weapons made the Vigiles seem like toys. Even their horses wore armor, as they had in Dublin.

In Dublin . . .

A thought pierced the panic.

All of this has already happened.

I saw the ruined Gothic monument. The bitter-sweet, chemical smell of the blue hand had already spiked the air, making my head spin—but it was already spinning, like a lathe, turning over the realization, fashioning it into an idea. Above the street, two ScionIDE helicopters were circling us all like birds of prey. White light beamed down, blinding me for an instant. If they saw me, they would take me to Nashira—to the Archon . . .

Martial law will be effective in the Scion Citadel of London until Paige Mahoney is in Inquisitorial custody.

All of this has already happened.

An airless crush of bodies, pressing in on me from all sides.

Mouths that scream, hands that shove.

Mercy.

Everything she does will be aimed at you.

In that moment of not seeing, I saw it all as if from a great distance. I knew what I had to do. It was the only way to save us all. The only way I could rise from the ashes.

Nick still held my hand, but he wasn’t prepared for what I did next.

I broke his grip with one brutal tug, cut through a line of people, and ran. He roared my name, but I didn’t stop.

Sweat and rain dropped melting crystals on my skin. The people nearest to the conflagration would boil in their own body heat before the soldiers reached them. I was near the thickest part of the crowd when I sensed Warden in pursuit. He was too fast—the only one, apart from Nick, who could certainly outrun me. I dislocated my spirit with violent force, throwing pressure through the æther.

The golden cord sent harsh vibrations through my bones, my flesh, through the whole of my being. My nose leaked blood.

“Get back, Warden,” I called.

He didn’t. I turned fully to face him, grasped my revolver, and took aim at his chest, stopping him. The tang of metal seeped down my throat.

“Don’t try to stop me. I mean it—I will put a bullet in your heart.” My voice shook. “And I don’t care if it doesn’t kill you. It will give me enough time.”

“You cannot stop this, Paige,” Warden said. “No matter what you do.”

I jerked the gun higher. “One more step.”

“Nashira will not let you go once you are in her clutches.” As he spoke, I could have sworn I heard . . . some echo of emotion, of fear, in the very depths of his voice—I might have thought it was on the verge of breaking, if he hadn’t been a Rephaite. If he had been human. “She will chain you in the darkness, and she will drain the life and hope from you. Your screams will be her music.” He held out a hand, his eyes blazing. “Paige.”

Something in the way he said my name almost disarmed me.

“Please,” he said.

I stepped away from him. “I have to.”

“If you expect me to stand and watch you hand yourself to the Sargas, you will have to empty that gun into me,” he said softer. “Do it.”

Blood ribboned from my chin to the hollow of my throat. Slowly, I drew back the hammer.

“Shoot, Paige.”

My lips trembled. I steeled myself. A bullet would only slow him down; it wouldn’t kill him.

It didn’t matter.

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