Page 168 of Dead Beat

Dawes could feel her weakness, her pain. Alex was dying and she could do nothing to help.

Mercy and the others arrayed themselves around Turner and Dawes, blocking the path to the base of Harkness.

“Don’t let them through!” Mercy yelled, holding up what looked very much like a mace. Then her eyes lighted on Nell. “The Lord is my light and savior—whom shall I fear?”

Nell looked around at the other familiars. Had she known how very many there were? How many promises Reiter had made? She dropped her field hockey stick and ran.

Turner joined in with Mercy, his voice booming over the crowd. “When the wicked advance against me to devour me, it is my enemies and foes who will stumble and fall.”

I should pray too, Dawes thought. I should do something. But she remained on the ground. She couldn’t seem to make herself move. She had believed that Darlington could save Alex, that they could all save each other. She had been sure there would always be another spell to work, another puzzle to solve, another path to go down. But in the end, all her knowledge, all her preparation, all the love she’d poured into the world came to nothing. No words arrived, no answers. She had nothing left and now there would be hell to pay.

Dawes didn’t know if Alex could hear her, but she said it anyway: “I’m sorry.”

63

Alex slammed back into her body. The pain returned in a stampede, too loud, inescapable. She could no longer feel the shape of herself, her arms, her legs. She was only the wound. Her armor was gone and she was in the clothes she’d worn to begin her climb. The artifacts lay in pieces around her. She could see the jagged gashes in her T-shirt, the black fabric sticky with her blood. Darlington loomed above her, his horns silhouetted against the thunderheads, and here, another shadow: Golgarot come to gloat, ready to drag her past the gate and into an endless torment.

But the figure that knelt beside her was not the demon.

“Dawes?” She was crying, her freckles bright against her cheeks, her red hair mussed. Alex had never seen a more glorious or distressing sight. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“It’s okay,” Dawes said, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I can heal you.”

“It’s not safe here. Golgarot—”

“Turner can keep him back. Alex, you’re going to bleed to death. Just let me help.”

Turner was here too? What had happened? Had Wheelwalking somehow broken the containment of the ascent? Had they traveled back with her over the spoke?

She felt Dawes lifting her shirt and heard her release a sob.

“Bad?”

“It could be worse?” Even she didn’t sound like she believed that.

“Dawes, let me go. Save the others. Get yourself out.”

“I’m not leaving you here.” Her fingers were rubbing something into the wound and it hurt. Alex clamped her jaws shut, trying to endure the pain. She drew in a ragged breath. It felt like Dawes was pulling apart her ribs.

“I can’t—”

“I know it hurts,” Dawes said. “I’m sorry.”

Black spots filled her vision. She closed her eyes and felt herself starting to drift away. This was too much.

“Alex!” Dawes demanded. “You have to stay with me.”

“It’s not working,” Alex gasped. “Please, just go.”

“I can’t. You’re the only thing that matters, Alex. The only one who matters.”

Dawes’s fingers reached deeper and Alex could hear her own flesh giving way. “Please—”

“I have to root out the bad. But it’s all bad.”

“Please—”

“Selfish, stupid. We could have offered you up to Golgarot and Darlington would still be safe. Tripp would still be alive.”