City of Spells (Into the Crooked Place #2) - Alexandra Christo Page 0,40
begging her and Ashwood to stop it.
Mad, mad, all of them.
“What are you doing?” Aurelia asked, eyeing her.
Zekia swallowed and raised her hand in the air.
Just a little blood. It was what needed to be done.
She looked at Aurelia and when the woman met her gaze, her eyes widened.
“Don’t—”
Zekia brought her hand down and the air cut across Aurelia’s neck as though it were a knife.
The Kingpin of Volo grabbed at her wound, gargling as the blood spouted from her neck. She stumbled forward and Zekia almost shook her head to scream at her not to come near.
She didn’t want to get the blood on her dress. It would stain, like a memory, and she wanted to forget this moment as quickly as possible.
She couldn’t step back, though, because Ashwood was there and he was watching and she was his little warrior.
Zekia counted the seconds until Aurelia finally fell to the floor with a horrible thud and stopped making that stomach-churning gurgle sound.
She counted the seconds until Aurelia’s eyes went blank and her hands fell from her neck.
The blood was dark and quick.
Simran gulped and it was loud enough to draw Zekia’s attention away from the lifeless woman.
“And what of you?” Ashwood asked. “Stand by me, Simran, or I will replace you just like I will be replacing Aurelia. There is not a person in the realms who can stop this war.”
Simran kept his eyes on Aurelia’s body, and though he opened his mouth to speak, no words came. It took him a few moments to realize this and so he simply nodded, unblinking and unspeaking, watching Aurelia’s blood coat the train floor like spilled paint.
“Wonderful,” Ashwood said. “Then together we will go down in history as the makers of a new world.”
Simran blinked and turned slowly to face Ashwood. To face Zekia. His eyes held a look of fear that turned her heart to lead.
This is what becomes of us.
12
Wesley
WESLEY LOOKED TO THE WINDOW.
He could hear the sounds of the ocean below and feel the breeze from the oncoming rain clouds that circled above the high-rise mausoleum, giving the stately dead a view of the horizon that the sandy graves below couldn’t dream of.
This was his window of opportunity.
Literally.
Because Wesley was going to jump out of it.
Just as soon as Zekia came back, which would be in exactly three minutes, like a very predictable and slightly psychopathic clock. Wesley would wait until she untied him—as she always did when she climbed inside his mind, so he wasn’t distracted or brought out of the vision by the chafing on his wrists— and once she did that, he’d use his magic to overpower her and leap to freedom.
As far as plans went, it needed fine-tuning, but Wesley would work on that part after he’d jumped out of the window. All that mattered was that he needed to leave, and despite what he wanted, he couldn’t take Zekia with him.
They’d moved him from Creije to the cemetery shores of Tisvgen after Ashwood had made his deal with Simran. Creije was becoming too dangerous of a battleground and so now Wesley had to rethink all the carefully laid exit plans he’d formulated back in his city. These shores were new and strange, but the waters of the Onnela Sea below would prove useful.
Not to mention that Tisvgen was closer to Rishiya, and so closer to Tavia and the others.
Wesley shuffled against the wall.
From the corner, the shadow demon snarled down at him, spit stringing from its ghostly jaws.
“What are you looking at, you giant worm? You’re not allowed to kill me.”
The demon growled, as though it could actually understand a word of what Wesley had said. For all he knew, it could. Zekia spoke to the demon the same way she spoke to Wesley: with her mind. The Intuitcrafter magic inside of her churning into the demon’s brain so her thoughts became its, and there was no way it could dream of disobeying her because she controlled its dreams and everything else.
Wesley knew how that felt.
The demon kept its focus on him and whenever Wesley shuffled, it inched closer or bowed its head to get a better look.
Maybe the mind connection worked both ways and it could see exactly what Wesley was planning to do. Maybe his own Intuitcrafter powers were backfiring and laying his soul bare.
“Too bad you’re a watchdog and not an attack dog now,” Wesley said.