[ Henryās instincts are right on the money. The two men who exit the car, the driver and one passenger, are finely dressed, their suits dark and indistinct. They have dark glasses and hardened expressions.
Theyāre not government. They exist quite outside the law.
āMister Brennan?ā One calls, and Alecās dad straightens from where he works, something cautious in his gaze. The man produces a sizeable stack of cash from his coat pocket. āWeāre here to make a delivery, on behalf of Miss Cordell. I trust this will be sufficient?ā
It doesnāt seem that Alecās dad realizes that Alec is there, still lingering near the top of the stairs as he watches this exchange. The carās passenger, however, has clocked him immediately, his gaze flicking up briefly behind those tinted lenses.
What happens next happens very quickly, most of it is a blur. As Alecās father steps forward to accept the money from the driverās outstretched hand. He takes a bullet to the gut for his troubles, and two more to the chest on top of that, a silenced muzzle pressed into his skin and fired point-blank. Where the guy was keeping that gun, Alec will never know. The other man draws his own weapon and takes a pair of shots at Alec, who scrambles down the stairs, ducking as chunks of wood and plaster rain down on him from the stray shots.
Get to dad get to dad get to dadā Itās frantic, a racing mantra through his brain as he ducks behind the old car for cover.
What does he do, what does he do? All the tricks that Henry knows Alec possesses, the barrier and the invisibility, the ability to call fire into his hand with a mere thought, he doesnāt know them yet. Heās just a kid. All he has is whatever heās been able to learn in those moments when he and his dad arenāt fighting just long enough to teach him.
With trembling fingers, he starts scratching out runes in the air, sloppy and haphazard. This is all he has. This is it.
The two goons circle around either side of the car, coming up to level their weapons at him, but the glowing marks stall them for just a second. āWhat the hell?ā One murmurs, and then in a bright and blinding flash, the bulbs overhead burst in a shower of glass as lightning pours out of the fixtures above. The men are thrown back, their smoking corpses dropping into ruined heaps. The whole city block goes fucking dark.
Alec scrambles to his feet, he runs, tripping over little-used tools in the dim garage, and drops hard to his knees at his fatherās side. The man hasnāt moved since those shots to the chest dropped him, and Alecās fingers curl tightly into his fatherās shirt, now soaked through with blood. ]
No. No no no. [ Desperate, trembling. ] Dad? Dad, come on!
[ Thomas Brennan doesnāt move, he doesnāt respond. His eyes remain wide open, unseeing. Blood ekes from the corner of his mouth. Heās already gone so pale. So very cold.
Heedless of the blood and mess, Alec buries his face against his fatherās chest. A sob wracks his body. He screams.
no subject
Theyāre not government. They exist quite outside the law.
āMister Brennan?ā One calls, and Alecās dad straightens from where he works, something cautious in his gaze. The man produces a sizeable stack of cash from his coat pocket. āWeāre here to make a delivery, on behalf of Miss Cordell. I trust this will be sufficient?ā
It doesnāt seem that Alecās dad realizes that Alec is there, still lingering near the top of the stairs as he watches this exchange. The carās passenger, however, has clocked him immediately, his gaze flicking up briefly behind those tinted lenses.
What happens next happens very quickly, most of it is a blur. As Alecās father steps forward to accept the money from the driverās outstretched hand. He takes a bullet to the gut for his troubles, and two more to the chest on top of that, a silenced muzzle pressed into his skin and fired point-blank. Where the guy was keeping that gun, Alec will never know. The other man draws his own weapon and takes a pair of shots at Alec, who scrambles down the stairs, ducking as chunks of wood and plaster rain down on him from the stray shots.
Get to dad get to dad get to dadā Itās frantic, a racing mantra through his brain as he ducks behind the old car for cover.
What does he do, what does he do? All the tricks that Henry knows Alec possesses, the barrier and the invisibility, the ability to call fire into his hand with a mere thought, he doesnāt know them yet. Heās just a kid. All he has is whatever heās been able to learn in those moments when he and his dad arenāt fighting just long enough to teach him.
With trembling fingers, he starts scratching out runes in the air, sloppy and haphazard. This is all he has. This is it.
The two goons circle around either side of the car, coming up to level their weapons at him, but the glowing marks stall them for just a second. āWhat the hell?ā One murmurs, and then in a bright and blinding flash, the bulbs overhead burst in a shower of glass as lightning pours out of the fixtures above. The men are thrown back, their smoking corpses dropping into ruined heaps. The whole city block goes fucking dark.
Alec scrambles to his feet, he runs, tripping over little-used tools in the dim garage, and drops hard to his knees at his fatherās side. The man hasnāt moved since those shots to the chest dropped him, and Alecās fingers curl tightly into his fatherās shirt, now soaked through with blood. ]
No. No no no. [ Desperate, trembling. ] Dad? Dad, come on!
[ Thomas Brennan doesnāt move, he doesnāt respond. His eyes remain wide open, unseeing. Blood ekes from the corner of his mouth. Heās already gone so pale. So very cold.
Heedless of the blood and mess, Alec buries his face against his fatherās chest. A sob wracks his body. He screams.
Overhead, the sky finally breaks. ]