Page 106 of Wolf of Ashes
But I was focused on Jonah for a moment too long.
I step directly into the path of an oncoming vine.
It strikes toward my right side, sailing on through the keeper’s body, and it’s not my own life I’m worried about.
It will hit Elijah first.
It will drive right through his little ribs and tear his chest apart.
In that heartbeat, my mind works through all the terrible options. No time to turn and take the blow on my left. No time to extend the claws of my right hand, and even if I do, I’ll impale Elijah since my fingers are pressing into his back. No time to duck all the way since the vine will strike, not through Elijah, but through my own head.
No time for Jonah to throw himself in front of me, although his muscles are bunching, and I know that’s what he’s doing.
No time, no time, no time—
I’m dropping, turning, trying to get down and expose my left side to protect Elijah when a dark body flies up in front of me, taking the blow.
Anarchy.
No!
She yelps. Blood sprays across me.
A scream wrenches out of me and then we all go down.
I hit the floor, partially on my back, partly on my side, Elijah cradled in my arms, Anarchy on top of us.
I’m aware of Elijah screaming and crying against my chest.
I’m aware of the blur of amber light as Jonah rushes away from me, throwing himself into the fight with Halle, shouting for Diavolo to help me. “Fucking help her!”
I’m aware of the movement of black wings and shadows as Lucian continues to deflect Halle’s attacks, briefly glancing back at me, without a hint of pity.
But it’s the keeper’s presence I need.
Like a dark cloud, he storms toward me, vaulting the chairs, tearing them apart to get to me.
“Veda!”
“Anarchy,” I cry. “Help her.”
She’s so still where she lies on top of me, a protective shield, her doggie illusion peeling away until her silver claws are revealed, resting at my side while her whiskers tickle my arm.
The keeper’s features are as wild as the ocean we once slept beside as his hands hover over her.
“Where?” he asks, a harsh, unfeeling question that must surely defy the pain I’m streaming into his heart.
I know what he’s asking.
Not where is she hurt, or where am I hurt, but where do we take the child.
“St. Michael Cemetery.”
His forehead creases. “But that’s…” He glances at Jonah, as if he’s perplexed.
I don’t know why and there isn’t time to ask.
Using all of my strength, I lurch into a sitting position, clutching at Anarchy’s heavy body with my left arm, pushing Elijah toward the keeper.
