I was wrong.
J is vibrating with power, and Warner is only barely hanging on to her. Holding her still. Something—someone—is physically animating Juliette’s body, articulating her limbs, trying to force her upright and possibly away from here, and it’s only because of Warner that Emmaline hasn’t succeeded.
I have no idea how he’s doing it.
J’s skin has gone translucent, veins bright and freakish in her pale face. She’s nearly blue, ready to crack. A low-level hum emanates from her body, the crackle of energy, the buzz of power. I grab on to her arm and in the half second Warner shifts to distribute her weight between us, the three of us are flung forward. We hit the ground so hard I can hardly breathe, and when I’m finally able to lift my head I look at Warner, my own eyes wide with unmasked terror.
“Emmaline is doing this,” I say, shouting the words at him.
He nods, his face grim.
“What can we do?” I cry. “How can she just keep screaming like this?”
Warner only looks at me.
He just looks at me, and the tortured expression in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. J can’t keep screaming like this. She can’t just be here on her knees screaming for a century. This shit is going to kill her. Jesus Christ. I knew it was bad, but for some reason I didn’t think it was this bad.
J looks like she’s going to die.
“Should we try to pick her up?” I don’t even know why I ask. I doubt I could lift her arm above my head, much less her whole body. My own body is still shaking, so much so that I can barely do my part to keep this girl from lifting directly off the ground. I have no idea what kind of crazy shit is pumping through her veins right now, but J is on another planet. She looks half-alive, mostly alien. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her jaw unhinged. She’s radiating energy. It’s fucking terrifying.
And I can barely keep up.
The ache in my arms has begun to creep up my shoulders and down my back and I shiver, violently, when a sharp wind strikes my bare, overheated skin.
“Let’s try,” Warner says.
I nod.
Take a deep breath.
Beg myself to be stronger than I am.
I don’t know how I do it, but through nothing short of a miracle, I make it to my feet. Warner and I manage to bind Juliette between us, and when I look over at him, I’m at least relieved to discover that he looks like he’s struggling, too. I’ve never seen Warner struggle, not really, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him sweat. But as much as I’d love to laugh a little right now, the sight of him straining so hard just to hold on to her only sends a fresh wave of fear through me. I have no idea how long he’s been trying to restrain her all by himself. I have no idea what would’ve happened to her if he hadn’t been there to hold on. And I have no idea what would happen to her right now, if we were to let go.
Something about that realization gives me renewed strength. It takes choice out of the situation. J needs us right now, period.
Which means I have to be stronger.
Standing upright like this has made us an easy target in all this madness, and I call out a warning as a piece of debris flies toward us. I pivot sharply to protect J, but take a hit to my spine, the pain so breathtaking I’m seeing stars. My back was already injured earlier tonight, and the bruises are bound to be worse now. But when Warner locks eyes with me in a sudden, terrified panic, I nod, letting him know I’m okay. I’ve got her.
Inch by agonizing inch, we move back toward the Sanctuary.
We’re dragging J like she’s Jesus between us, her head flung backward, feet dragging across the ground. She’s finally stopped screaming, but now she’s convulsing, her body seizing uncontrollably, and Warner looks like he’s hanging on to his sanity by a single, fraying thread.
It feels like centuries pass before we see Nazeera again, but the rational part of my brain suspects it must’ve been only twenty, thirty minutes. Who knows. I’m sure she was trying her best to get back here with people who could help, but it feels like we’re too late. Everything feels too late.
I have no idea what the hell is happening anymore.
Yesterday, this morning—an hour ago—I was worried about James and Adam. I thought our problems were simple and straightforward: get the kids back, kill the supreme commanders, have a nice lunch.
But now—
Nazeera and Castle and Brendan and Nouria rush to a sudden stop before us. They look between us.
They look beyond us.
Their eyes go round, their lips parting as they gasp. I crane my neck to see what they’re seeing and realize that there’s a tidal wave of fire headed straight toward us.
I think I’m going to collapse.
My body is worse than unsteady. By this point, my legs are made of rubber. I can barely support my own weight, and it’s a miracle I’m holding on to J at all. In fact, a quick glance at Warner’s clenched, insanely tense body is all it takes to realize that he’s probably doing most of the work right now.
I don’t know how any of us are going to survive this. I can’t move. I sure as hell can’t outrun a wave of fire.
And I don’t really understand everything that happens next.
I hear an inhuman cry, and Stephan is suddenly rushing toward us. Stephan. He’s suddenly in front of us, suddenly between us. He picks J up and into his arms like she might be a rag doll, and starts shouting at all of us to run. Castle hangs back to redirect water from a nearby well, and though his efforts at dousing the flames aren’t entirely successful, it’s enough to give us the edge we need to escape. Warner and I drag ourselves back to camp with the others, and the minute we cross the threshold into the Sanctuary, we’re met with a frantic sea of faces. Countless figures surge forward, their shouts and cries and hysterical commotion fusing into a single, unbroken soundstorm. Logically, I understand why people are out here, worried, crying, shouting unanswered questions at each other—but right now I just want them all to get the hell out of my way.
Nouria and Sam seem to read my mind.
They bark orders into the crowd and the nameless bodies begin to clear out. Stephan is no longer running, but walking briskly, elbowing people out of his way as necessary, and I’m grateful. But when Sonya and Sara come sprinting toward us, shouting for us to follow them to the medical tent, I nearly launch myself forward and kiss them both.
I don’t.
Instead, I take a moment to search for Castle, wondering if he made it out okay. But when I look back, scanning our stretch of protected land, I experience a sudden, sobering moment of realization. The disparity between in here and out there is unreal.
In here, the sky is clear.
The weather, settled. The ground seems to have sutured itself back together. The wall of fire that tried to chase us all the way back to the Sanctuary is now nothing but fading smoke. The trees are in their upright positions; the hurricane is little more than a fine mist. The morning looks almost pretty. For a second I could’ve sworn I heard a bird chirping.
I’m probably out of my mind.
I collapse in the middle of a well-worn path leading back to our tents, my face thudding against wet grass. The smell of fresh, damp earth fills my head and I breathe it in, all of it. It’s a balm. A miracle. Maybe, I think. Maybe we’re going to be okay. Maybe I can close my eyes. Take a moment.
Warner stalks past my prone body, his motions so intense I’m startled upright, into a sitting position.
I have no idea