Page 74 of Mostly Shattered

“Help me get him down,” I beg.

Conrad laughs. “I rather like him as a chandelier.”

I should have known Conrad wouldn’t help me.

“Go away. Leave us alone.” I clench my teeth and focus on Anthony. I look for something I can use to reach him. I have to get him down.

“Tamara,”Conrad’s voice whispers as if coming from the far end of the room. Seconds later, it sounds behind me as a distraction.“Tamara.”

“Stop it,” I yell.

Anthony thrashes and moans.

“How does it feel, watching another person you care about slip through your fingers?” Conrad’s ghostly form materializes close to Anthony, his blackened eyes gleaming with malice. He looks up at our brother. “Helpless? Weak?”

“Shut up,” I order. “I’m not listening to you.”

“That would be a mistake,” he warns. “Maybe we should have the labyrinth bring somebody else? Paul maybe? Or how about his cute little button of a daughter?”

“Don’t you touch them! We had a deal.” I see arock, and I go to it. I try to push it toward the center of the room. It doesn’t budge.

“How does it feel to know that you will fail everyone that you care about?” Conrad’s voice is a poisonous whisper. He’s always been able to cut right through me. He knows exactly where to strike.

“Shut up, Conrad.” My voice is steady, but I don’t feel brave. I can’t let him see he is getting to me.

Conrad steps closer, taunting, “Paul was right there, wasn’t he?” He points to the floor next to my feet. “Right next to you. Bleeding out. And you couldn’t do anything. Just like now.”

I flinch at the memory. Images of Paul flash in my mind—the sound of gunfire, the blood covering his chest, the life fading from his eyes as he died in my arms. Guilt and pain flood in.

“Anthony always thought he was better than me,” Conrad sneers, circling our brother. “But look at him now. My little puppet.”

The magical shackles around Anthony’s wrists and ankles begin to move as if making him dance. Anthony cries out in pain. The sound only makes Conrad smile.

“Not so superior now, are you?” Conrad taunts. His eyes turn back to me as I continue my search. “You will not find anything to help him. You might as well accept it. You failed Paul. You’ll fail Anthony, too. You’ll always fail.”

My vision blurs with tears I refuse to let fall. Anthony is gasping for breath, the dark magic constricting him more with each passing second. I can hear his fear beneath the pain. It echoes my own.

I can’t lose him.

Not again.

This isn’t Conrad’s doing. He only wants me to believe that he has control. Conrad always liked for people to think he was more than he was. I lost perspective for a moment, but I’m in the labyrinth.

Suddenly, the air shifts. The labyrinth is closing in on me. The pressure grows, dark energy builds in the room, and a new realization dawns. The labyrinth isn’t just testing my strength. It’s testing my will. My choices.

This is a test of knowledge. So that means I have to know the answer somewhere deeply hidden within my brain.

I force myself to stare at Anthony. His complexion is as pale as a vampire’s. I try to remember bits of conversations I’ve eavesdropped on in the past. This is dark magic holding him captive—old, powerful, dangerous, and very real. There was a story our grandfather used to tell us about being trapped. Perhaps it was more of a warning, a way to teach children how to defendthemselves against monsters. I try to remember the details, but it was so long ago.

Conrad’s spirit fades.

I know this. The magic is tied to the mind, locking Anthony in some kind of trap as it feeds off the emotional energy of its victim. I need to disrupt its connection.

But how?

“You can’t save him. You never could save anyone,” Conrad reappears, sitting on the ground as if watching a show. “You might as well admit defeat.”

I clench my fists. I touch my neck, but there is no amulet to comfort me.

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