Page 72 of The Lies We Conjure
Kaysa Blackgate has lost exactly none of her gumption, though. She skewers my cousin right in the eye and smiles sweetly. “You can trust us now, or you’re welcome to waste the next two hours of your life to prove us right.”
I break into a laugh, and I swear I see Evander’s lips twitch in a smile. This girl, so silent and dour as a small child, has somehow grown into a match for the gruff, stoic Evander Hegemony.
“Well, that answer is good enough for me,” I reply, and clap my cousin on his thick shoulder. Lavinia’s eyes widen in surprise. “Don’t you think, Ev—”
“Watch out!” Lavinia screams.
She’s running—not away, but instead chugging straight for us like a freight train in yoga tights. I blink, tracking her gaze to something over my shoulder.
But I’m already too late.
With a single, sick thud, all the breath in Evander’s lungs leaves in one stout wheeze.
A knife is buried in his back.
That shield, on the edge of my fingertips only moments earlier, sparks to life, a shimmering emerald mist. It flares out around us as two things happen.
Evander slumps into me, his legs giving out.
A second knife whizzes past Evander’s ear.
It would’ve hit him if he’d been upright. Instead, because he’s moved and the shield with him, it grazes Lavinia before burying itself in a tree on the side of the trail. Lavinia hisses as a slash of crimson blooms on the exposed skin of her upper arm. Kaysa is feet behind her, eyes the size of dinner plates.
“Two more incoming!” she shouts, and dives at Lavinia, effectively pressing both her and her sister against the wall created by Evander and myself.
The points of both knives dig and drop, one, two, off the shield.
“Is that it? Please tell me that’s it,” Kaysa whimpers as the blades skitter over the rocks embedded in the trail to the soft cushion of mountain daisies beyond.
I swallow, gaze stuck on the knife buried in the pine feet away. I recognize the black handle, three metal rivets catching the sun. These aren’t throwing knives. They’re chef’s knives.
“Three more. Seven in Maggie’s knife block.”
Evander wheezes. His fingers scrabble for purchase at my waist, trying to stay upright. Kaysa wraps an arm around him, her other around her sister. Lavinia’s blood cuts a looping swath down her arm, seeping into the thin, flowy fabric of her shirt. Seeping into mine too, warm and wet as her heart rabbits so hard, it flutters against my own ribs.
“Extend,” Evander grits out. “The… shield. Pause too…”
I do exactly what he says, encasing us all, realizing in that moment what he’s getting at.
They’re trying for a better shot.
Just as I manage to wrap the shield entirely around the vertical column made by the four of us, the final three knives fly in from the opposite direction of the first four—THWACK, THWACK, TWHACK—right off the newest portion of the shield. Perfectly aimed to hit Lavinia directly in the back. Both girls scream, as if they didn’t realize the shield was there, stiffening into our chests, a jumble of lavender soap and sweat, fear, and blood.
And then it’s over.
All four of us clamber together, in our huddle, breathing hard, eyes wild and searching.
No color, no shadows, no footsteps over the thundering of our collective breath and heartbeats. Nothing at all.
Evander’s head lolls and drops heavily on my shoulder. “Go… after… them.”
“I hate to break it to you, but that’s not a cat scratch. I’m not going after them because I need to heal you.” I turn to Lavinia. “You can manage while I help him, yeah?”
Lavinia lifts her head from where it had been pressed against my breastbone, eyes dark wells. “Yes, yes, of course. We can go after them.”
“Yeah. We can search,” Kaysa says, peeling herself from the huddle and brandishing her wrist relic a little too hard.
But I don’t even flinch because I’m not seeing anything but Evander’s blood. It’s saturated his jersey, the crimson now a heavy black. My wrist and forearm are slick with it from where I anchor him about the waist, grasping both his pack and his failing body.
