Changed by Fire (Phoenix Rising #6) - Harper Wylde Page 0,54

turned white with power as his magic crawled along the barrier of the cell walls, creeping over the iron bars and adhering itself to the metal. His power flickered a few times, zapping out like flashes of lightning, brightening and then darkening, as he encased the entire cell with a ward.

I gritted my teeth and fisted my hands. My nails bit into my palms from the strength of my grip, but I didn’t dare let myself react. Deep down, I was screaming, begging for a way out of this mess.

Nix. Would I ever see her again? My fury covered the agony of that question, and I pushed it to the back of my mind as I focused on the way Ishida stepped to the cell door and covered the lock with the flat of his hand, channeling energy into the metal around the keyhole. He repeated the process two more times on either side of the cell. Was he binding his magic to the lock itself? I’d never known him to use keystones—an anchor for magic—before. Those were generally for ward casters with far weaker powers than what he possessed.

The information was interesting, and I filed it away as I tracked his movements, watching the satisfied leer on his face as he came to stand in front of me.

“The power to escape is in your hands, Joshua. All you have to do is disable the keystones and you’ll be free. Fail to do so, and you’ll be tonight’s barbeque. I do hope to never see you again.” His cackle and the sound of splashing gasoline followed his retreating form as he exited the basement, growing muted with each passing second until I knew he was gone.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I’d refused to allow Ishida the pleasure of seeing my distress, but I struggled forward, my body growing stronger as my Basilisk yielded to the forced shift, and I grabbed for the bars. Nasty zaps of magic skirted over my skin as the signature of Ishida’s magic seared my palms. I screamed as I tried to reach the first keystone, still shocked that he’d had to use outside forces to bind his magic, a testament that Ishida’s power was changing with the crumbling chaos of his mind.

I cried out as I thrust my hand through the ward, feeling the way it torched flesh and muscle as I scratched my nails against the keystone, destroying the faintly glowing crest left by Ishida to uphold his magic in his absence. The power of the ward diminished as I pulled my arm back through the bars, holding it against my body as my chest rose and fell rapidly while I fought off the dizzying pain. If Ishida needed to use keystones, he was further gone than I’d originally thought, though whether that made him weaker or more dangerous in his delirium was yet to be seen.

Two more, Joshua, I thought, reminding myself of all that was at stake. My dad. Nix. My very life.

The skin on my arm was raw and blistered from the wards, but I shuffled quickly to the far end of the cell. My strength grew by the minute despite my injuries, but no matter how hard I fought against the ward and tried to reach the next keystone, all I did was ruin my arm. Even if the ward hadn’t been an issue, the keystone was just out of reach, which was Ishida’s plan all along—to tease me with the nearness of life while sentencing me to death.

A crackling sound drew my attention to the basement stairs and up to the opened doorway that was quickly filling with smoke. The blaze the Council must have set raced along the gasoline trail, heating the air. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and I screamed as I forced my arm through the ward, trying over and over again to reach the keystone I needed to destroy. I just needed to distort the crest enough to make it unreadable, and the magic it held would be displaced. I jammed my shoulder into the bars again and again, uncaring if I dislocated it in the process. My father was up there somewhere. He could be dying. My heart raced as the fire began to make its way into the basement, creeping down one step at a time. The bars were already warming from the heat, and I slumped to the floor, cradling my charred arm as tears fell down my face. Fuck, that hurt like a son