Page 160 of Anchor

I heard the Devil complaining to Hill about how his magic had attacked his men, too.

“Best be careful, David. People might think you’re incapable of controlling your own magic,” said the Devil.

“So much talk,” Hill then said, and I was still blinking, still trying to see, trying to not let the fear and the panic take hold of me. “Talk-talk-talk. Do you ever justshut up,Ale? Really—do you?”

I tried my hand—it moved. My legs, too. And my toes. And my neck.

“Not really, no,” the Devil said, not offended in the least. “Why would I? I was given my voice for a reason. I was given my brain for a reason, too. I use all of it daily.” He chuckled to himself like he thought he was the funniest guy to have ever lived.

“Oh, really. Is that so,” said Hill, and it wasn’t a question. He had his hands on his hips again, head lowered as if he wanted to hide how pissed off he was. I could barely see him because I didn’t want to move too much and alert them that I was awake without making sure Taland was okay.

He was.Breathing,that is, on his side about three feet away from me, both of us dangerously close to that spinning wall. His eyes were half open, and he was still covered in all that blood, but at least he wasn’t bruised or swollen anymore. And, like I said—he was breathing.

So was Seth and the Mergenbachs a little to my left, bundled up together, eyes open, looking around, trying to see without being seen.

“It is, it is,” said the Devil, unbothered.

“And what exactly were you hoping to accomplish with this? What did you come up with by using that fucking brain of yours, Ale, huh?!” said Hill, and he was trying so hard to keep his head down, but his words were more than enough to show us exactly how pissed off he was.

“My retirement plan, David,” the Devil said. “That is why I brought you here—one must be fluid, in a constant state of change, and when one plan fails, we must move to the next.” I swear, the way Hill raised his head—just that small, slow motion—made it perfectly clear how badly he wanted to pick the Devil apart piece by piece. If only he could actually reach him, maybe he would.

“You see, my initial plan was very standard stuff—I steal what you need from you, then offer it back to you for a price. I know you’re going to win, my friend, and I simply want a piece of the pie. Here’s what I propose: you get the bracelet right now from that girl, and you walk away. When the time comes and you do what you’ve been planning to do all along, I rise in power with you.” He stopped to take a breath. “How’s that for a deal?”

Hill threw his head back and started laughing.

“More than that,” the Devil continued—again, still not bothered. “I know you still need more soul vessels as well as his bones, and I can help you find them. You know how much my help is worth—you are where you are now because of me.”

Hill stopped laughing and looked at him again. “I think you’re overestimating your importance here, Ale. You’ve always done that, too, now that I think about it.”

This definitely faded the smile on the Devil’s face a bit. “You’re not thinking straight, David,” he told him. “A businessman such as yourself should be considering the alternatives already, and in your case, you only have one.” He raised a single finger. I tried to push myself up a little to see Hill better. “Accept my help, or you won’t make it out of my Regah alive, either.”

A second ticked by in perfect silence.

“Are you threatening me, Alejandro?” Hill asked, his voice perfectly calm.

“Merely telling you your options,” the Devil said.

Then Bluefire magic took over my vision and it was aimed for Hill—Aurelia had her wand raised and she’d been chanting from where she lay, and nobody had noticed.

Well—nobody but Hill.

He’d noticed, and he’d countered her spell with a ward of his own, so that blue sparks flew about the room, but Hill remained standing.

A hand around my wrist.

My scream got stuck in my head throat when I realized it was just Taland pulling me to sit up. By then Zachary and Seth were already on their feet, too, and though they were bleeding and wounded, and possibly hurting just as much as me, they were still fighting.

Hill shouted something—I didn’t care enough to hear.

“You’re okay,” said Taland, though he looked like shit himself. His hands were shaking—how long had he been bleeding? How long since he’d eaten in that cell where they’d chained him?

Hadhe eaten at all?

Rage in the pit of my stomach.

“Taland, I need you to stay back, okay?” I said, grabbing his face in my hands, and he was so pale underneath that blood and grime. So fucking pale.

“No. Hill is still alive,” he said, and he made to stand up to join the fight, but I pushed him back as hard as I could again.

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