coming with us, in chains or out.”
Nina raised her arms and saw the men around her stiffen, ready to fire, regardless of Pekka’s orders. She turned the movement into a lazy stretch. “Eamon, you do know that before you clap me in those chains I could turn half these gents’ internal organs to goo.”
“You’re not fast enough.”
“I’m fast enough to make sure you never”—her eyes gave a meaningful slide below his belt buckle—“raise a flag on West Stave again.”
Now Eamon paled. “You can’t do that.”
Nina cracked her knuckles. “Can’t I?”
A soft clang sounded from somewhere above them, and they all pointed their guns skyward. Damn it, Inej, keep quiet. But when Nina looked up, her thoughts stuttered to a terrified halt. Inej was back on the wire. And she wasn’t alone.
For a moment, Nina thought she might be hallucinating as she watched the figure in white follow Inej onto the wire. She looked like a phantom floating in the air above them. Then she hurled something through the air. Nina caught a glint of metal. She didn’t see it hit, but she saw Inej’s steps falter. Inej righted herself, her posture ruthless, arms extended for balance.
There had to be a way to help her. Nina reached out to the girl in white with her power, searching for her pulse, the fiber of her muscles, something she could control, but again there was that terrible blindness, that nothingness.
“Not gonna help your friend?” Eamon said.
“She can manage for herself,” said Nina.
Eamon smirked. “You’re not nearly as tough as we heard. Big talk, no action.” He turned to his crew. “I buy drinks all night for the first one to grab her.”
They didn’t rush her. They weren’t foolish enough for that. They advanced slowly, guns raised. Nina threw her hands up. They stopped, wary. But when nothing happened, she saw them exchange glances, a few smiles, and now they were coming faster, losing their fear, ready to take their reward.
Nina risked a glance upward. Inej was still somehow keeping her balance. She seemed to be attempting to make her way back to the first silo, but she’d clearly been injured and her walk was unsteady.
The net. But it was no good to Nina alone. If she had a bit of parem , just a taste of it, she could force these big idiots to help her. They’d obey her without thinking.
Her mind reached out, grasping for something, anything. She would not just stand here helpless to be taken captive and watch Inej die. But all she felt was a great black void. There were no convenient bone shards, no dust to seize. The world that had once teemed with life, with heartbeats, breath, the rush of blood, had been stripped bare. It was all black desert, starless sky, barren earth.
One of the Dime Lions rushed forward and then they were all lunging at her, grabbing onto her arms, dragging her toward Eamon, whose face split with a grin, his dimple curving in a half moon.
Nina released a howl of pure rage, thrashing like a wild animal. She was not helpless. She refused to be. I know no fiercer warrior, powers or not.
Then she felt it—there, in that black desert, a pocket of cold so deep it burned. There, past the silos, in the wedge of the canal, on the way to the harbor—the sickboat, piled high with bodies. A throb of recognition pulsed through her. She didn’t sense heartbeats or blood flow, but she could feel something else, something other. She thought of the bone shards, remembered the comfort she’d felt on Black Veil, surrounded by graves.
Eamon tried to clap one of the shackles onto her wrist.
“Let’s put the collar on her too!” another Dime Lion shouted.
She felt a hand in her hair, her head wrenched back to expose her neck. Nina knew what she was thinking was madness, but she was out of sane choices. With all her remaining strength, she kicked hard at Eamon, breaking his grip. She threw her arms out in a wide arc, focusing this strange new awareness, and she felt the bodies on the barge rise. She clenched her fists. Come to me.
The Dime Lions seized her wrists. Eamon struck her across the mouth, but she kept her fists clenched, her mind focused. This wasn’t the exhilaration she’d felt on parem . That had been heat, fire, light. This was a cold flame, one that burned low and blue. She felt the corpses rise, one after another,