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With a vampiric second set of eyes looking out for me, I spin around and send a push of magic that hits the woman in her center of gravity and sends her skidding backward into another witch.
The woman she collides with doesn’t appreciate the affront, and the two begin to battle and exchange blows.
It leaves me without an opponent for the precious moment I use to catch my breath and get my bearings. “As grateful as I am for the heads up, Viking, I don’t think you’re allowed to help me.”
Rune looks like he’s enjoying this way too much. “No rules, remember?”
No rules, but there’s only so much he can do from the sidelines. What I need is a plan.
“Yield!” The cry comes from the second witch who came after me. She falls to her knees in the dirt, blood coating the side of her face and staining her silver and blue dress. “I yield!”
That’s one less witch I have to worry about now. One down, way too many to go.
A giant hunk of marble flying past my face reminds me I don’t have time to pause. It crashes into the force field and kicks up a plume of dust when it thunks into the dirt.
When I turn to trace the projectile back to its caster, I find Summer Saint-Clair advancing on me. She raises a fist and punches the air. A chubby cherub arm breaks free from the statue with a sharp crack.
It soars past Summer and straight at me.
I duck out of the way, but she sees the move coming and redirects faster than I can evade. The cherub’s stone palm hits me in the side with so much force it could have been a Sumo wrestler’s fist crushing my ribs.
I stumble, the breath knocked from my lungs, but catch myself before eating dirt.
Yep, that’s going to bruise.
“Josie! Shields up!” Rune yells, but the warning comes too late this time.
An electric pulse hits me from behind and shoots through my spine. It sends me sprawling on the ground and, yeah, this time I get a mouthful of dirt and scrape my chin. The charge makes its way through my body, frying the connection between my limbs and my brain as I convulse.
This is a Wild West free-for-all of magic.
I’m not a fan.
I flop onto my side, still seizing and drooling into the dirt. Above me, Summer and my electric attacker—I think her name is Delaney—are duking it out. That buys me enough time to get my feet under me and back in the game.
No one is focused on me, but I’m still at risk of being struck with a stray spell in all the chaos.
As if my thoughts bring it into being, a spark of orange magic explodes next to my palms, where they are pressed into the earth. The shock of it restarts my brain and I roll away from the action, tearing my dress more in the process.
This is not how I envisioned my night at the masquerade ball going. At all.
“Shit, that hurts.” I come to a halt when I get a face full of sharp thorns from the bush I ran myself into. Mercifully, none of the short spikes end up in my eye, but it still stings like a bitch as they cut my cheeks and forehead.
I do a half-roll back and am about to get my feet under me when a shadow draws my attention upward. There isn’t time to see what it is before a heavy weight falls over me, forcing me flat on my back and trapping my arms at my sides.
The force of the weight presses the oxygen from my chest until it’s impossible to breathe. I try to inhale, but there’s no room to fill my lungs.
Panic sets in. My bare heels shuffle against the hard-packed earth as I fight. And then I freeze.
“Josie!”
I’m not sure whether it’s Finn or Rune who calls my name—or, hell, it could even be Sebastian—the outside world grows distant and the only thing I can hear is the thundering of my heart muffling out every other sound like I’m underwater.
“Josie,” the faint voice calls again, “Move! You have to move!”
But I don’t move. I can’t. Because I’m staring at not what fell on me, but who. Delaney lies across my middle, her head angled so I’ve got a full view of her dull, empty eyes.
Blood trickles out of her slack mouth, slowly staining the ground red around us. The shock of the sight stuns me stupid. All I can do is stare.
