Spell Bound Page 84
Just past where the corpse had been wedged, there was another breathing hole. Or so it seemed. The last had been a dead-end pipe, probably filled in at some point. When Bryce lit his light ball, I could see that this one was indeed another pipe . . . but not a dead end.
There was a ladder of rusted bars up one side. I said I’d go first—whatever was up top probably wasn’t easily opened. He agreed.
It was a tough climb. Some of the bars were rusted right through, and I broke more than one. When I checked to see if Bryce was getting hit by the falling metal, he told me to just keep going. I finally made it to the top. The pipe ended in a metal cover. I gave it a shove. It didn’t budge.
“Umm . . . ,” I called down.
“Just keep pushing,” Bryce said. “And stay to the side. I’ll try some spells.”
I did, and he did, using knockbacks and energy bolts. I cast a few unlock spells under my breath. I’m not sure what worked—maybe a combination of all—but after a few minutes, the pipe lid groaned. Another heave and it flew open.
We made it out of the drain or whatever the hell it had been. I wasn’t about to stop and analyze the architectural significance.
As soon as we were aboveground, I could hear the sirens and the shouts. Ambulances for the wounded. Emergency workers searching the rubble for survivors.
Survivors. Oh, God.
I lurched forward, legs shaking almost too much to support me. When Bryce coughed, I turned back to see him braced against a wall, his face pale, cheeks flushed bright red. He could barely stand. I went back to help him, but as soon as I reached to touch him, he waved me off.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“No, you aren’t.”
I tried to grab his arm.
He backed up. “Go. I’ll follow.”
I raced down the back alley. There was no sign of Jaime.
Did she know Jeremy was—? Was Jeremy—? And Adam . . .
I rounded the corner and—
Dust floated down. The building was gone. Collapsed. The front and back walls and part of the attached sides remained, the upper floor listing, ready to fall at any moment, police and emergency workers shouted for people to get back behind the line.
And the middle, where the lab had been? There was no middle. Just those front and back walls, nothing between them but broken planks and twisted metal and chunks of plaster.
Nothing left.
Nothing.
I staggered forward. People thronged the end of the alley, having squeezed past trying to find a vantage point. I pushed through them. When they wouldn’t move, I shoved, ignoring the gasps of indignation and return shoves.
Then a voice pierced the commotion. It wasn’t a loud voice. Soft, actually. But it was one I knew well enough to pick up, in chunks, over the chaos.
“We need to go . . . you know . . . find . . . I’m sorry . . . there’s no way . . .”
Two people blocked my way. Guys about my age with a video camera. I sent them flying with a knockback. Didn’t even realize I was casting. Just thought Goddamn it, get out of my way! and they did, each stumbling to one side like split bowling pins. I barreled through. And that’s when I saw Jeremy.
He was knee-deep in rubble. Around him, emergency workers were too busy searching the debris to realize he wasn’t one of them. He could have been, his clothes so streaked with plaster dust that you couldn’t tell if he wore a uniform. Even his hair was gray with dust. Blood smeared the side of his face and more trickled from a gash on his chin. He favored one leg as he bent, reaching for something hidden behind a broken bed heaped with rubble.
His lips moved, but I couldn’t catch what he said. I stepped forward over the remains of the wall.
“Go then.” A ragged voice drifted from somewhere ahead of me. “I’m not leaving until I find her.”
“You won’t,” Jeremy said. “And if you do . . .” His voice caught. He reached down again, grabbed hold, and tugged.
Adam rose. He looked as bad as Jeremy—clothes filthy and ripped, face battered and bloody—and I’d never seen such a beautiful sight in my life.
“I’m not going until I find—” Adam saw me and stopped.
He blinked. His mouth opened. For a second, nothing came out. Then, “Savannah?”
“Hey,” I called. “Miss me?”
He pulled from Jeremy’s grasp and crossed the rubble in a few steps. His arms went around me and he pulled me close and then . . . he kissed me.
When I imagined this moment, I always saw it coming. He would lean toward me, and I’d see his mouth moving toward mine, and I’d wait for it. But this . . . ? There was no waiting. No warning. He was hugging me, and then he was kissing me and it was . . . perfect. There’s no other way to describe it. A perfect moment. A perfect kiss. Everything I ever imagined. Everything I ever wanted.
“Sir? Miss?”
A shadow passed over us, a hand clasped Adam’s shoulder, and as I opened my eyes, I saw Jeremy moving forward to stop the officer before he interfered. But it was too late. Adam pulled back, blinking. His cheeks colored and his mouth opened and I knew he was going to apologize, so I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him before he could.
Jeremy said something to the cop.
“I thought you were dead,” I whispered in Adam’s ear.
“That makes two of us.” He paused. “I mean, I thought you were . . . Well, you know.”
He pulled back enough to see me and smiled. I hugged him one more time, then stepped away as Jeremy was saying, “We were walking past when it happened. Managed to avoid the blast, but we thought we heard voices. We’ll leave the searching to you now.”
The officer thanked him, then asked whether Adam and Jeremy had seen anything suspicious, but Jeremy said no, they hadn’t noticed anything until the blast sent them flying. By the time they recovered, people were rushing to the scene.
“You should get checked out,” the cop said. He finally took a good look at me, sopping wet, and frowned.
“Water main break,” I said, waving vaguely. “Fallout from the explosion, I guess.”
“Is that the paramedic over there?” Jeremy said.
The officer nodded and Jeremy bustled us off. We veered away as soon as we could without being stopped. Adam still had his arm around me. I carefully picked my way through the debris and leaned on him for more support than I needed.