Not good, not good, not good.
I draw on my magic in a panicked burst and slam it against the wall. The spell shifts, then reforms.
Another pull of magic, another throw.
Another ripple when it hits the wall.
Again and again I do this, ignoring the sounds of the spells hitting the wall at my back.
After one final hit of my power, the violet-hued barrier in front of me shatters. I nearly cry out in relief.
I haul the shifter back up into my arms, wincing at the pain in my shoulder as I stand and bear her weight. My injury has gone from burning to throbbing, and I can tell that once the adrenaline leaves my system, it’s going to hurt like a motherfucker.
At my back I hear my own protective wall cracking. That’s all the incentive I need to get moving.
I sprint once more down the hall. It curves, the candles burned down almost to their bases.
Okay, but where the hell is the exit?
Ahead of me, the corridor opens to a chamber full of shelves of what appear to be grimoires, judging by the hazy brown mixture of magic thickening the air.
The flagstones give way to more marble, and my feet slap across a solar image as I enter the chamber.
Almost immediately my head begins to pound at the conflicting magic.
I move to the far end of the room, where a set of stone lamassu guard a rounded archway. Beyond it looks to be another spiral staircase.
In the distance, I hear the pounding of footfalls.
Fuck.
Frantically, I look at the stone threshold protectors, an idea sparking. I move to the first step of the stairs, then turn back to look down at the statues that are part woman, part lion, part eagle.
“Lamassu,” I call to them, “I summon you to protect us. Let no one with wicked intent cross your threshold.”
In an instant, the stone guardians come to life. They rise from their haunches and prowl forward, away from the stairs, their gray tails flicking. It’s the oddest sight.
Magic, man. Don’t do drugs when you can do this.
I swivel forward and ascend the stairs, gritting my teeth against the strain of lifting the shifter.
I whisper another strengthening spell just as I hear the witches enter the grimoire room beneath me.
Go, go, go, I urge my body. My magic is reaching its limits. My arms and legs are still holding out, but the spell that was supposed to help has barely taken the edge off my strain.
Low, gravelly growls fill the chamber beneath me, the sound raising the hairs on the nape of my neck. I hear one of the lamassu snarl and a witch shriek.
An explosive spell shakes the ground, and I nearly lose my balance, wobbling with the shifter in my arms.
I’m more than halfway up the steps when I hear someone near the base of the staircase. I barely have time to process that they’ve managed to get past the lamassu when a spell slams into my back.
I scream, briefly collapsing against the railing as the same flesh-eating curse burns against my skin.
EMPRESS! Memnon roars in my head, and now there is no question about it: he is panicking on my behalf.
Keep going. Keep going.
Beneath me, I can hear the witch whispering another spell. I tense, but the hit never comes. Instead, one of the lamassu snarls.
A moment later, the witch screams, and I catch sight of her falling, the lamassu’s teeth piercing her leg. She and I make eye contact, and hers are full of terror as the beast drags her out of sight.
I take a shuddering breath, ashamed of the relief I feel, and I force my legs to keep going. As soon as I do so, I have to grit my teeth against the cry that wants to work its way out. I manage to bite it back, but I can’t seem to stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks.
Goddess, but the pain. It’s all-consuming.
I force myself up each step by sheer will, repeatedly banging the girl’s legs into the railing.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I gasp, even though I know she can’t hear me. She still hasn’t woken up.
Beneath me, there are prolonged screams.
I’m nearly to the top of the staircase when another spell ricochets against the wall and crashes into my calf, slicing it open. I scream as my leg gives out.
EMPRESS! Memnon bellows. HOLD FAST! I AM COMING!
Just before I hit the ground, I cover the shifter’s head, and it’s my own skull that cracks against the top stair.
Everything whites out for an instant.
Then I’m blinking the world back into focus, and I hear screams, and the scent of magic is pounding in my head, and above it all, fear that isn’t my own floods my system.
TAKE IT.
“Memnon?” I whisper out loud.
I’m still blinking, still trying to make sense of the world even as I’m forcing myself to my feet, dragging the shifter up with me. I can’t stop the cry I let out as I force my injured leg to bear our weight.