Page 82 of The Journal of a Thousand Years
Thurlow shrugged. “It’s time to find out.”
He pulled the trigger.
I lay on the ground, on my side, not far from where I’d been sitting with Melville’s body. My ear hurt from the impact with the pavement, and Gabe’s body, lying over me, was heavy. But he breathed. I could hear it coming in short, sharp bursts, and feel the rapid beat of his heart. He was alive, but not at all well.
“Have you been shot?” I asked, thinking that perhaps his magic had engaged, but been too slow to ensure we both missed the bullet.
“I’m fine,” he said, rolling off me.
Thurlow stood over us, his face blending with the gray clouds in the sky above. “Remarkable. I didn’t realize time stopped for even a moment. I’m now convinced. Ivy, your mother would be pleased to know she was right. Smug bitch.”
I couldn’t see Ivy, but I could hear her crying. It sounded like she was still in the motorcar.
All I could see from where I lay was Thurlow, the sky, and the top floors of the houses. The curtains fluttered with the breeze. No, not the breeze, and not all of the curtains, just half a dozen at number sixteen.
How strange.
I registered the fluttering curtains, the appearance of Gabe’s servants’ faces at the windows, and the gun now pointed at Gabe, gripped by Thurlow.
“You were strong enough for your magic to save her,” Thurlow said. “Are you strong enough for it save yourself, too?”
Before anyone could respond, he fired.
The next moment, the gun was nowhere in sight and Thurlow was holding his arm. Gabe was on his feet, bent over with his hands on his knees, his body heaving as he sucked in each breath. His magic had engaged again, but he wasn’t strong enough to attack Thurlow. He’d only managed to knock the gun out of Thurlow’s hand as he dodged the bullet. There was a small hole in the wall of the house behind Gabe.
I spotted the gun at the base of the steps of number sixteen. Gabe could never reach it before Thurlow did. He was too weak. It was up to me.
But before I could even get to my feet, Gabe fell to his knees, clutching his upper arm. The glint of a blade flashed in Thurlow’s hand. He could have struck the knife at Gabe again, but he didn’t. He simply watched him, smiling, as blood seeped from between Gabe’s fingers.
I jumped to my feet. “Gabe!”
“Get back.” Thurlow pointed the knife at me. “I’m in the middle of an experiment, my pet. You see, there might be a flaw with the magic. It activates to save him in an instant, but what if his death is slow? We’ll know the answer soon enough. Either his magic will activate when he is still able to get medical help to stop the bleeding, or it won’t, and he will bleed to death here. I can’t wait to see the results of my experiment. Isn’t science riveting?”
“He has already suffered a terrible loss of blood. This will be too much.”
Ivy tried to rush past Thurlow to reach Gabe, but he grabbed her arm and hauled her back.
She screamed in frustration. “Let me go! You madman!”
Her timing was perfect. Her screeching covered the fluttering sound of loose papers being thrown out of several windows. It wasn’t until the first sheets floated into his view that Thurlow realized what had happened. By then it was too late. I’d already spoken the spell in my mind. I almost cast a glance at Melville’s body, since I’d only learned the trick of spell casting in silence while we’d waited for the taxi, but I didn’t dare take my gaze off the papers and Thurlow. All my concentration was required now if I was going to control the direction of my weapons.
Dozens upon dozens of weapons.
They sliced through the air, swooping and dipping before rising again, just as they had done at the house where I’d been held captive. But this time, they surrounded Thurlow, and Ivy too, since she was with him. This time, I concentrated on just the two of them until I saw them, and only them. It was as if they stood on a theatrical stage beneath a spotlight while their surroundings remained in the dark.
Ivy screamed in terror.
Thurlow shouted. He swatted at the paper, but for every one he batted away, ten more attacked. Soon, the paper circling them completely hid them from view.
The knife clattered onto the pavement.
Murray ducked low and grabbed it. I hadn’t seen him emerge from the house. In his other hand, he held Thurlow’s gun. “You can stop it now, Miss Ashe. I’ll take over from here until the police arrive.”
I stopped my silent chants and the paper gently fluttered to the pavement, no more dangerous than feathers, revealing Thurlow and Ivy crouching, arms over their heads for protection. Scratches striped the backs of their hands, and their clothing had been slashed.
When he realized the danger had passed, Thurlow tried to get up, but Murray ordered him onto his knees. “Don’t do anything rash, or I’ll shoot you.”
Thurlow obliged, but let out a string of expletives that would have made even Willie blush. Murray ordered him to be quiet, but Thurlow ignored him.
