Page 81 of The Journal of a Thousand Years
CHAPTER 17
“No!” I caught Melville as he crumpled to his knees. “No, no, no!”
“Sylvia!” Gabe’s voice was closer now, but not close enough. I wanted to touch him. He might be physically weak, but he had an inner strength that I needed as I cradled my dying father in my arms.
“So thereisa connection between you two,” Thurlow drawled. “Is he your father?” He snorted. “Pathetic. His magic isn’t nearly as strong as yours.”
Melville tried to reach up to me, but his hand fell back to his side. “Daughter.”
“Shhh. Don’t talk.” I cradled his head in my lap, my hand pressing down on his stomach wound. But I couldn’t stem the blood flow. It soaked his clothing and mine, and dampened the pavement. Unlike Gabe, medical help wouldn’t arrive in time. Even if it did, a bullet wound in the stomach couldn’t be fixed.
“The handkerchief.” Melville’s voice came out a whisper that I had to lean closer to hear.
“I know what you did,” I whispered back. “I owe you my life. Thank you.”
Unlike Thurlow, I’d realized Melville had controlled his magic, deliberately keeping the paper’s movements slow and unthreatening. Melville’s actions had lured Thurlow’s attention away from me and onto him. Fast movements would have made Thurlow panic and fire. With the gun pointed at me, I would be shot. But slow movements gave Thurlow time to react less rashly and shoot the man wielding the weapon instead.
Gabe’s bare feet came into my view. He crouched beside me, a hand cupping my face. His thumb stroked my cheek, and I realized I was crying. I never thought I would cry for Melville Hendry. I should hate him. My mother had taught me to hate him. She certainly had, and had feared him, too. Even now, I didn’t doubt that she had a reason to fear him. But I would never learn the specific incidents behind her reason, and a large part of me was glad about that.
I would remember Melville as the man I saw now, his head on my lap as the life bled out of him. He was multi-faceted, as most of us are. He was neither all good nor all bad. He was terribly flawed and deeply troubled. Circumstance had brought the worst out of him, suppressing the best. For some of that, he only had himself to blame, but not all.
“Sylvia…” His voice was so weak I could barely hear it. “Moving spell.” He wanted me to use the handkerchief, the only piece of paper in our possession, to cut Thurlow. But it was useless against a gun.
Even so, I nodded. “I understand.”
His fingers inched toward mine, still covering his wound. I stopped putting pressure on it and took his hand. I raised it to my lips.”
“Father.”
Melville’s lips twitched with a whisper of a smile.
Then it slipped away, as did his life. He was gone.
I lowered his hand and silently looked at the handkerchief. One piece of paper against a gun was useless.
Gabe touched my cheek to get me to look at him. “It’ll be all right.” He was too pale to be out of bed. He crouched at my side and pressed his fingertips into the pavement to act as a crutch for balance. But they wouldn’t hold him up forever. Sweat beaded his forehead with the effort of simply getting out of bed.
“Get back, Glass.” Thurlow was still seated in the vehicle. “Or you’ll be shot, too.”
Gabe didn’t move. I doubted he could. He was too weak.
“Gabe, do as he says and move away!” Ivy cried.
Gabe’s ragged breaths quickened. Exhaustion, fear, or perhaps both, shadowed his eyes. “Sylvia…” he murmured.
Thurlow climbed out of the motorcar and rounded its bonnet. He stepped onto the pavement, his back to the row of houses, so that he could get a clear shot of me without Gabe in the way.
Gabe closed his eyes, squeezing them. Was he in pain? Or was it worry that he was too weak to save me? “Let her go,” Gabe said. “It’s me you want. I’ll perform magic for you. I’ll slow time whenever you want. You can change the odds of a race or get away from the police…you decide. Just let Sylvia go. Ivy, too.”
Ivy sniffed. “Thank you for remembering I exist.”
Thurlow huffed. “Doesn’t it only work when your life is in danger or that of someone you care about?”
Gabe shook his head. “Icanalter time at will.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. I think I’ll test it first.” He cocked the gun.
“No!” I cried. “You can see he’s ill. His magic might not activate if he’s this weak.”
