Page 71 of No Surrender
“If I don’t lift the curse, they die,” Judd shrugged. “And in the chaos and fear, the trial will be forgotten. William will go back to jail, and I’ll use the spells to get him out.”
Judd’s crazy plan just might succeed, Vic thought. Fischer would go free, dozens of people would die, and the fanboy would be a hero in his own mind.
I could die here. I’m sorry, Simon.
“Don’t expect any ghosts to rescue you,” Judd told him. “I mop the floor with salt water. They can’t enter. You’re on your own…and you aren’t looking too good.”
Vic had hated hearing Ross cry out in pain, but his partner’s new silence worried Vic more. Ross hadn’t recovered from the cursed object, so he had fewer reserves to weather Judd’s assault.
Hang on, Ross. I’ll figure something out.But even as he thought the words, Vic knew he was out of ideas.
A shot broke the silence. “Let them go. I won’t miss next time.” Simon stood in the doorway, and with the light behind him, Vic hoped Judd wouldn’t be able to tell a paintball gun from a pistol.
Judd’s quiet laugh sent a chill down Vic’s spine. “Simon. I wondered when you’d join the party. I saved my best curse for you.” He muttered again, and Simon clutched his chest, wheezing, and then sank to his knees. He paled, eyes wide with fear and pain, and gave one awful, rattling breath before he fell backward and lay still.
“Simon!” Vic gasped. What he could see through a bloody haze froze his heart. Simon wasn’t moving.
“Classic death curse,” Judd said, triumph clear in his voice. “I thought I’d save it for the judge.”
“Simon.” Vic managed to drag himself across the floor to where Simon lay.
It’s over. Judd won. And I won’t be far behind Simon—wherever we’re going.
Simon sat up with a gasp, his right hand clutching a medallion on a silver chain.
Judd abruptly clawed at his own chest, his hand grasping as he struggled to breathe. He went down in slow motion, falling first to his knees and then face down on the floor, where he lay still.
Vic’s pain vanished. Across the way, Ross’s pained groan told Vic that his partner had survived.
“Simon!” Vic knelt beside Simon and tried not to hyperventilate. “How did you—”
Relief flooded through him, making Vic lightheaded.I saw him fall. I saw him die. How—
Simon looked unsteady as if whatever happened hadn’t gone easy on him. He slowly unclenched his right fist, revealing the intricate sigils carved into the medallion now imprinted on his palm.
“Reversal spell, based on the Rule of Three.” Simon was alive, but he didn’t sound okay. His hands shook, and his voice trembled. “It meant Judd’s spell didn’t take—and it bounced back to him three times as strong.”
“God, Simon. Youdied?”
“I got better.” Simon’s attempt for a Monty Python-esque accent was intended to reassure, but that didn’t stop the sob Vic barely choked back.
“Too damn close,” Vic snapped.
“Better me than you. I had a vision—”
Simon didn’t have to finish his sentence. Vic could guess the rest. Simon had foreseen a version of the future—one where Vic got hit with the killing curse and didn’t have a way to reverse it. A future where Simon arrived too late.
Simon’s fingers came up to stroke Vic’s cheek. “How bad are you hurt?”
“You’re alive. I could dance a fucking jig.” Vic pulled Simon into his arms, and they clung to each other, hearts pounding, breathing fast and shallow, clutching fistfuls of shirt to hold each other up. “Ross got hit worse. Not as many protections. We need to fix that.”
In the distance, sirens wailed. “Cops and ambulance are on the way. I called Hargrove, but I knew I couldn’t wait for them.” Simon’s hoarse voice barely rose above a whisper.
Vic didn’t think right now that he could speak at all.
11
SIMON
