Brave the Tempest (Cassandra Palmer #9) - Karen Chance Page 0,186

“You handle the train! I’ll take them!”

And I know he heard me this time, since I was practically screaming in his face, but he wasn’t letting go, and he wasn’t shielding, because he thought the rock was a priority. Which it was—until I shifted it out of the air as it came screaming for us and popped it just behind the manlikan’s head instead. Which it nailed a second later, right in the skull.

The massive geode shattered, sending pretty shards flying everywhere, like a crystal firework. I didn’t see what happened to the fey rider, but Jo was a different story. Because she was suddenly here, vanishing off the manlikan’s shoulder and appearing behind Pritkin, spear raised—

Only to have it crumble to pieces in her hand, the sharp metal point clanging against the floorboards as I aged the wooden shaft to powder.

Pritkin’s eyes widened; I guess he hadn’t seen me duel before. Things changed while you were gone, I didn’t say, because I didn’t have time. That move would have bought me a few seconds from someone else, but not from Jo. She threw out her other hand, not missing a beat, and I barely managed to counter.

Leaving two time spells meeting and fighting each other in midair.

I’d seen that snarl of boiling colors before, and it never ended well. Best-case scenario, they’d ricochet off each other and age whatever they encountered out of existence. Worst-case—

They did that, I thought, seeing bubbles start to form where the two spells met, like the foam on a glass of beer. Ones that were about to fly off in every direction and age tiny holes through everyone and everything in the damned train car. And screw that!

I threw a spell with my other hand—not something I’m particularly good at—but it connected. Just not like I’d planned. I’d meant to shift just Jo, but I guess we were linked by the time spells, because I ended up going, too.

Out onto the roof, where the wind blew us both off our feet and almost off the train!

But the time bubbles sailed over our heads and into the void, which was good. And I almost followed them, sliding backward half a carriage length before my stomach caught the end of the car, which was bad. Then Jo blew into me, sending us both into the gap and down onto the tiny platform that connected the carriages. And, okay, that was worse.

Because her knee in my wound knocked the air out of me, while her hands tried their best to push my head into the wheels, which were still churning away for some reason!

Probably because the engine was still running, I realized, watching a plume of dark gray smoke stream by overhead, framing the wild, manic face of the woman above me. Jo . . . did not look remotely sane, with a Joker-worthy grin splitting her face halfway open. “Isn’t this fun?” she screamed.

And kept on screaming as I aged the life out of her, my hand clenched around her throat, my voice screaming along with hers. Because the trauma of having to do this twice in two days was almost worse than the power drain. But I kept it up, even as her eyes bulged, as her skin drew up like a desiccated mummy’s, as her clothes rotted off. Yet the sinewy arms kept trying to force my head under the wheels, which were getting closer and closer, to the point that I couldn’t tell what was her scream, what was mine, and what was the damned train’s!

Until she exploded, papery bits of flesh and sinew flying everywhere, like a fleshy bomb.

And before I could figure out if that had been because of the time spell or another reason, another reason was looking down at me.

“Come on!” Pritkin yelled, thrusting out a hand. I grabbed it, and he pulled me back into the car, slamming the door behind us and holding me against his chest. “Brace for it!”

Brace for what? I thought, staring around in confusion.

But I didn’t get a chance to ask. Because the next second, the winter wonderland streaming by outside the windows was replaced by something else. We’d just torn through the portal, I realized, shredding its power on either side with our bulk. And were riding the midnight express through Dante’s, the glittering, clanging, colorful casino I called home.

No, I thought, staring around.

Wait.

The train didn’t wait.

We hit the back wall of the casino’s main drag, bounced off, and then kept on