suspended, leaning towards the gateway, the side of her face burning from the electric heat of it. Someone had her by the wrist, was pulling her upright.
The ground was tilting. And then she was standing. And Lucas was in front of her. And there was a dark shape on the ground behind him that had to be Victor, but she wasn’t even capable of figuring it all out. It was all she could do to just focus on what was in front of her.
It wasn’t possible. She blinked again. How could he be real?
But she could feel his hand, warm against the underside of her wrist. She could see the thin scar running across his temple and the strikes of amber gold at the edge of his irises. He looked more worn, tired; his hair was longer, his face harder somehow, but it was Lucas. The electric current she was feeling, the way her heart had started flying in her ribcage, batting to escape, was enough to convince her that what was in front of her, standing there, holding onto her, was not some figment of her imagination. He was real.
‘Lucas,’ she managed to say his name, her voice cracking.
‘Watch out!’
Lucas spun around, pulling her behind his back, shielding her. Victor was on his feet, was standing in front of him, a gun in his hand. The air stilled around them, thickened like tar. A scream filled Evie’s head.
When the shot came it tore through the stillness, shattering it like an earthquake. The ground shook, the noise of the impact echoing through every cell in Evie’s body.
Her knees went out from under her. She clutched at Lucas with deadened fingers, a sob welling in her chest as she grabbed his shoulders to keep him from falling – to stop him from fading. Not again. Please not again.
But he didn’t fade. He didn’t fall. He stayed solid beneath her fingertips. She drew a breath – so sharp it hurt, aware only of the tightening grip of Lucas’s hands on her own as he unlatched her fingers from his shoulders and pulled her around to his side.
It was only then, when she saw Victor lying on the ground before them, that her brain put together the jumbled pieces. Lucas wasn’t hurt. Neither of them had been shot. She stared in shock at Victor’s body for several seconds.
His limbs were splayed and his mouth was gaping open. He was staring up at the sky, a trickle of blood oozing lazily down his face. A smooth round hole was stamped like indelible ink on his right cheek.
Evie raised her eyes to the person standing over him. Selena was contemplating the body with a satisfied expression. In her hands she held a shiny semi-automatic. The flamethrower lay discarded at her feet. She reholstered the gun, then turned to Evie.
‘Guess Victor was wrong about bullets and guns,’ she said with a smirk. ‘Aren’t you going to at least thank me for saving your chicken ass?’
Evie could only stare at her in shock.
‘The guy was loco,’ Selena said with a dismissive shrug, ‘and that’s what we do with crazies where I come from.’ She threw an arm wide, gesturing at the smoking lawn. ‘We’re all done here. Seven dead Originals. One dead psychopath.’
Evie glanced around, seeing the smoking heaps on the lawn and hearing the whoops from Flic and the others, but not really noticing them. She turned back to Lucas who was still standing opposite her, staring at her, waiting.
For half a minute she just stood there, staring, then she threw herself against him, running her hands desperately over his chest, pressing against his neck, feeling the smoothness of his jaw, her fingers tracing the curve of his lips. Her hands were in a hurry to slide under his T-shirt, feel the warmth of him, press against his heart, feel the beat, know with absolute certainty that he was alive.
But then she drew back, realisation slowly dawning. He wasn’t smiling. His hands were hanging loosely at his sides, one still gripping his shadow blade. And his eyes – that was the worst of it – they were flat and cold and a million miles distant from here, staring right through her.
Her hands fell at once to her sides.
‘You’re alive,’ she said, feeling tears start to roll down her cheeks. ‘You’re alive.’
Chapter 58
She was crying.
‘You’re alive,’ she repeated, her voice hoarse and broken.
Lucas nodded.
‘You came back.’
Her bottom lip was trembling and he wanted to reach out and