CoS36

## Chapter 36

**Chapter 36** of **City of Spells** follows **Wesley**.

## **Full Version**

THE BULLET WENT THROUGH Ashwood’s neck and hit the bridge column behind him with a loud clang.

Wesley winced and stood, rubbing his head as Ashwood gurgled and clutched at his neck, letting out a strangled kind of cry.

Wesley ran for Tavia.

It wasn’t enough. That couldn’t kill him.

Wesley needed to get to her before Ashwood did.

Ashwood swiped his hand through the air again.

Wesley flew backward. Tavia flew backward.

They tumbled through the air together with frightening speed and Wesley caught a glimpse of Tavia crashing against the barrier before his head hit the beam and he catapulted over the side railing.

Wesley had just enough time to gather his magic and stop himself from falling into the watery depths.

He floated below the bridge, his magic jutting in and out as the pain in his head started to throb. He felt dizzy with it, the realms blurring and then struggling to refocus again.

He’d hit the beam hard enough that he could feel blood on him, but he couldn’t tell which part of his face it was coming from. Everywhere hurt, like thousands of tiny needles puncturing his cheeks and the cracks in his lips.

Wesley reached up a shaking hand and grabbed the railing.

The moment his fingers curled around it, his magic let out a sigh of relief as though it thought that meant it could rest for a moment.

Wesley sucked in a breath as he dangled from the bridge, one hand gripping the railing and the other floundering in the air.

He wasn’t sure he had the strength to pull himself up.

“Give me your hand,” Tavia said, appearing in front of him.

She flung her arm over the railing.

The sight of her was like a miracle in itself.

Wesley called on every ounce of strength he had to reach up for her. He called on his magic to quell the spinning in his head and halt the blood he could feel trickling down his neck.

*Come on,*he said*. We can do this.*

He stretched up.

“Just a little closer,” Tavia urged.

There was a tingling in Wesley’s hands, like a newfound power surging straight to his fingertips as hers dangled so close to his, and with a mighty yell Wesley lurched up and grabbed on to Tavia.

She clasped both hands around his arm and pulled him desperately until he was back over the railing.

Wesley collapsed over the top and onto the bridge, beside Tavia, both of them gasping for air.

“Idiots,” Ashwood said.

He sneered down at the bullet that had pierced him and kicked it across the ground.

It was soaked with his gray blood. The blood of tainted magic, acquired through years of stolen power. Wesley could see it.

See it, but not get to it.

*Son of a bitch*, Wesley thought, pushing himself back up once more.

They needed that bullet, that blood, if the final part of their plan was going to work.

“You will pay for that,” Ashwood said.

He strode toward them and Wesley pushed himself in front of Tavia.

Ashwood laughed. “You’re powerful, my boy. But I am ancient.”

He raised his arm, as if he was going to wipe them from the world.

“Wait.”

It was Zekia who spoke.

She was no longer battling Karam and Saxony. In fact, the three of them were watching onward with startled expressions, as though the sound of Tavia’s gunshot and the sight of Wesley dangling over a bridge had pulled them away from each other and back to the real enemy.

Wesley narrowed his eyes and looked to Zekia.

His head still pounded.

*You can help*, he thought.

All they needed was a minute. Just a minute to grab that bullet and then—

“Kid,” Wesley said out loud. “This is your chance.”

*The bullet*, he whispered in her mind. *We need the bullet Tavia shot Ashwood with.*

“You can help your family,” Wesley said.

“She *is* helping her family,” Ashwood said. “I’m her family.”

When he stared at Zekia, it was almost as a challenge.

“I’ll do it,” Zekia said.

Wesley’s sigh was like a gust of wind as he watched his little sister step to Ashwood’s side.

“Tavia is Wesley’s favorite,” she said.

Ashwood’s impatience was palpable. “And?”

Zekia stared at Tavia, and Wesley wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.

“He’s always leaving me for her. So I should be the one to take care of her.”

“No!” Karam yelled, lurching forward.

But Ashwood held out his hand and both Karam and Saxony came to a sudden stop. Wesley could see them struggling, but it was like their feet were rooted to the bridge.

Ashwood spread his arms toward Tavia, like she was a prize. “By all means, little warrior. Show me where your loyalty lies.”

“Kid—”

“Stop talking!” Zekia yelled. “I have to concentrate and I can’t do it if you won’t stop talking.”

Her lips trembled, eyes unblinking and unfocused as she stared at Wesley with so much fear that he almost trembled alongside her.

He looked at the bullet across the way, by the barriers of the bridge.

So damn far.

*Please, kid*, Wesley called out to his sister. *Get Tavia the bullet.*

But Zekia wasn’t listening.

She held out her hand and Wesley’s bone gun was suddenly clasped in her tiny fingers. In the very corner of his eye, he saw Tavia pat her belt loop, to see if she could still feel the cold bone against her back.

*Nothing.*

Wesley knew it before she did.

Zekia was holding the gun he had used to kill his old underboss and take his place.

The gun that Tavia had held on to while the Kingpin kept him as prisoner.

The gun made from bone and blood, on which Wesley had built an entire empire.

The gun he wanted to use in a perfect display of irony to bring Ashwood to his knees.

“My little warrior,” Ashwood said, placing a hand on Zekia’s shoulder. “Make me proud.”

She nodded.

*The bullet*, Wesley tried again. *Kid—*

“I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner,” Zekia said.

She squeezed the trigger and in an instant, Wesley’s world broke into a million pieces.

The gunshot was like an explosion and in the time it took for Wesley to blink, for his heart to pound furiously in his chest—just once, like a dying scream—Tavia stumbled back.

Her hand went to her chest.

There was blood. So much blood. On her hands and dripping from her mouth.

In the distance, he thought he heard Saxony cry out.

Karam screamed in grief.

“Wesley,” Tavia said in a gasp.

*This isn’t happening,*he thought*. This can’t be happening.*

Wesley blinked and for the first time he saw the world truly ending.

If she died, then there was no going back. If he lost Tavia, then nothing mattered. Not magic and not time and not winning this war.

Tavia hit the ground, hard enough that it sounded like another gunshot.

She reached out a shaking hand toward him. One last attempt at a lifeline.

Wesley didn’t move.

Couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe or think straight.

*It’s not real. It’s not real. Please don’t let it be real.*

And then her arm fell and her eyes closed and Tavia’s breath stuttered to a final stop.