Pain snaps through my jaw. I hit the wall, my head cracks against it, and I’m frozen long enough to say, “What—” Long enough for Alex to jam their arm under my throat and lean on it so hard, it sends a bolt up the soft part of my esophagus. I fight for air, scrabbling for a hold on their arm.
Their eyes bulge, red and bloodshot, and they growl, “It was you.”
“Alex!” someone shouts, shattering the desperate quiet of the courtyard. I dig my nails into their wrist so hard something pops.
“You killed him,” Alex keens. They press harder into my throat, and I gag. “You killed him! He would’ve lived if you hadn’t gotten in Nick’s fucking way!”
“Alex!” It’s Faith’s voice, louder. “Alex, stop!”
Alex’s concentration breaks for just a second, and I wrench an arm around the back of their neck and slam a fist into their ribs and throw my body into theirs. We hit the grass together.
I think I hear Erin, I think I hear Nick, I think, because I don’t know. I can’t hear anything but the rush in my ears now, hot blood roaring through my veins, because I’m on the ground with Alex and I’m making some terrible noise, wet and deep in my throat like a Grace. I’m on top of them. Their knuckles hit my jaw, my tooth clicks, and a piece of enamel hits the back of my tongue right where the rot is boiling over, seeping between my teeth. Every nerve ending is on fire. Red burns into my vision.
I have a knife. What if Alex has a knife too? What if they stick it into my lung?
I lean on them, putting all my weight on them until they choke, their nails cutting into my face. Our shoes dig into the grass, and their knee hits my stomach as they buck and twist. I have to get my knife first, I have to—
A hand grabs me by the hood of my jacket and yanks me back, dragging me down to the dirt. I snarl and lash out with my foot. Alex scrambles back, clutching their neck. Ghost-white marks around their throat fade as blood rushes back into the skin.
Above me, Cormac steps back, heaving with anger. Hair has fallen out of his ponytail and hangs around his face in a mess.
“What the fuck,” he spits. “What the fuck?”
The stranglehold on my vision eases. The world comes into focus: the entire ALC staring at us. Nick holding Erin by the wrist. Everyone frozen, even the Watch, eyes wide like they caught me reciting an Angel prayer.
“Jesus Christ,” Cormac says. He holds out a hand for Alex, who scrabbles farther backward before finally staggering to their feet, ignoring him entirely. Cormac turns to me, face contorted. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I don’t answer. There are no words. I barely hear him, just the thrum of my heartbeat and the creaking of my bones. Just Flood in my mouth, burning, tasting like corpse flesh. I swallow it down even though I know it will come back up later.
Cormac turns his glare away from me, marches up to Nick, and jabs a finger into his chest. Nick recoils. Erin puts an arm between them.
“If you think I’m going to work with that motherfucker,” Cormac hisses.
Nick replies, simply, “Don’t touch me again.”
Alex flings open the back door and flees into the ALC. Cormac shakes awkwardly for a second, looking from face to face, waiting for someone else to speak up. Nobody does. Aisha, Faith, and Salvador all turn away.
Giving up, Cormac grunts and follows Alex inside.
And all that’s left is me.
The burning is stuck under my fingertips, searing hot, my cells breaking and bursting. My thoughts are an angry swirl of words, none of which I can get past my tongue. Everyone saw that they started it, right? I did what I had to. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me like that.
One word gets past the block in my throat: a bloody, rot-splattered, “What?”