Page 67 of Wizard of Most Wicked Ways

He couldn’t even get to Jonelle. Not with Silas between them.

A new shot pierced the air, waking up Owein’s brain. Hulda had Merritt’s revolver and shot from the house—the bedroom window. Once, twice, missing both times.

Owein seized Silas’s cloak once more and shrunk it as he had the collar, wishing he had kinesis to drag Silas closer and end this. Silas choked only a moment before tearing through it with a breaking spell as Owein’s right ear mutated. If only Owein had more alteration spells! He needed his mind, not his body! He could stomach the pain—

Another bullet, this one from the direction of the trees, skimmed Silas’s shoulder. Pankhurst had a second gun!

Silas hurled a kinetic spell at Owein, shoving him away from Merritt. Twisting, Silas directed another kinetic spell to seize Pankhurst’s rifle and rip it from his hands. The firearm flew through the space between them. Silas caught it midair in his one remaining hand.

Owein’s pulse raced, making him light-headed. How much did confusion affect a man already mad?

Silas turned toward him and fired.

Had Owein not lived so long, not practiced with chaos so endlessly, he wouldn’t have reacted in time. And it wasjustin time. The random subterfuge rippled out from him, catching the bullet in its wake, shredding it almost like a breaking spell would. The shrapnel still hit him, cutting long, stinging lines into his face and neck. The spell eddied, catching Silas, making his boot twist around and a tree root jut outward, arrow straight, and catch his foot.

What was Owein doing again?

Where was he?

He stood, stumbled. Read ... What was he supposed to read? His head didn’t feel his own. He retreated three steps, four, trying to recall—

A softclinkagainst the heel of his shoe. Owein glanced down and saw a little tube with a strange, almost sparkly mixture in it. Crouching, he picked it up. There was a needle—

His mind sharpened.Serum.

No time to lose. Owein ripped the cap off the syringe and jabbed it into his arm, depressing the plunger so quickly it burned.

Kinesis hit him hard enough to snap his head back.

The world went black. Then gray. Owein blinked, light filtering into his reed-filled vision, the leaves slowly sharpening. His ears rang, playing a constant, high-pitched note. Wincing, he pushed himself up. Saw Silas’s shadow just before the man swung the butt of Pankhurst’s rifle into his head.

White flashed. Shadow swallowed him. Pain surged through his skull, down his neck, into his shoulders. He blinked back red, wet light. Wiped his eyes, but the blood kept pouring—

The screech of a hawk brought him to his senses. The bird whipped by. Owein tried to focus on it, but he was so dizzy, so ... tired. His head poundedthump,thump,thump. He pushed himself up. Collapsed. He needed to get distance between himself and Silas. He needed to save Fallon—

The hawk turned in the sky, folded its wings, and dove for Silas. Silas readied the gun to swing—

Lifting a foot, Owein kicked the back of Silas’s knee, sending him off balance. Right before collision, Fallon shifted into a dog. She slammed into Silas, knocking them both into the front of Whimbrel House, her teeth sinking into the base of Silas’s neck.

Black spots again. Owein’s breathing rasped too loudly. His heart, too deep.Stay awake. Stay awake,he pleaded, blinking blood from his eyes.

Something thudded near him. He looked up. Saw dirt, floating midair ... no, it had stuck to a wardship spell. Merritt had protected him from something.But Merritt can’t!his mind screamed.Every spell weakens his body!

Merritt was going to die. Hulda was going to die. Fallon was going to die.

He was going to lose them all.

Consuming pain radiated from his forehead.Get up.He pushed one knee under him. Wiped his sleeve across his eyes, smearing blood. A glimmer in the grass ahead of him caught his eye—Blightree’scommunion stone. He reached for it, for whatever good it would do, but it lay just too far off for him to grab. Instead, he left bloody fingerprints over its rune.

Focus,he willed himself, withdrawing his hand. Pankhurst was fighting. No gunfire or magic, only himself. Fallon, with a limp in her back leg, leapt at Silas again. Even Jonelle was pulling herself up with the porch railing, trying to help. Trying to dosomething.

Owein’s arm burned. From the injection or from injury? Did it matter? The consequences of magic were too great for him. He couldn’t stay on top of the fight. He couldn’t—

He blinked, peering past the wardship spell, across island wilds he’d torn up, to Beth’s house.

Halfway out, I suspect,Mirren had said. He saw her even now, in his mind’s eye, leaning over Blightree.

It’s much easier with a soul I’ve moved before,Blightree had claimed.My magic is familiar with you.

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