Being nearly unconscious the first time he went through the mist had spared Edward the interesting sensation he was now experiencing. Interesting, in the same way falling into a black hole would be interesting. Not comfortable, but interesting. Before he could consider it fully, Edward was standing in an alleyway, and the scents and sounds shared by all large urban areas bombarded his senses.
Then Dante was shoving him.
Edward fell to the ground as a long and strangely curved blade sliced through the air where he’d just been standing.
“Kill the wizard!” someone shouted.
That caught Edward’s attention. He rolled, and kept rolling, until he hit something. Getting to his feet, he tried to assess what was happening.
Dante and the other elves were fighting a group of oíche and humanoid creatures straight from a nightmare. They weren’t much more than two feet tall, and they were covered in black fur. They had long, sharp claws and gold almond-shaped eyes.
Faolan and Sean stepped from the portal and joined the fray.
The gateway closed and once more became a brick wall painted with a realistic image of a tree. An oíche leaping over the elves in Edward’s direction interrupted his clinical review of the scene. He drew back his hand and focused his will.
“Tân!” A ball of fire manifested in his hand, and he hurled it at the oíche.
Fae and fire connected in midair, the flames engulfing the small faerie. It dropped to the ground and rolled, trying to put itself out.
The dark power welled up inside Edward again, and he pushed it back. He had to do this without the darkness.
He concentrated and waved his hand. “Fwy!”
The flames erupted into a massive pyre. Screams stopped as clouds of darkness and smoke drifted from the inferno.
The magic was coursing through him, and Edward knew it was his magic. Wind rushed past, sucked into the maw of the blaze. The mental fatigue began to gnaw at him, but for now, it was still manageable.
The magic, and therefore the fire, was not.
Edward panicked as it continued to grow beyond his control. He struggled to pull the magic back, but his growing alarm and weariness prevented him from keeping hold of it. The magic-fed fire spread to the walls and finally to a Dumpster.
“No,” Edward said through gritted teeth.
A high-pitched, guttural cry came from the other side of the conflagration, and one of the small, furry creatures jumped through the flames at Edward. Its fur ignited as it passed through the wall of fire, but that didn’t even slow it.
Edward didn’t have time to react. The creature hit him full in the chest and knocked him to the ground. Edward’s head smacked the asphalt and bounced. A ringing filled his ears and his hands began to burn as he struggled to get the flaming whatever it was off him.
Snapping jaws were inches from his face. Spittle landed on his cheek as Edward struggled with arms and claws. His clothes started to burn, and the air drawn into his lungs grew hotter with each breath.
Suddenly Edward remembered. The knife! He’d dropped it when he’d fallen.
Letting go of one of the furry arms, Edward reached for the weapon. Searing, blinding pain shot through him as the creature tore into his flesh with its claw. He screamed and tried to kick the thing off, but it wouldn’t budge. It was small, but incredibly strong.
At last, Edward’s fingers touched cold metal. He gripped the knife and drove it repeatedly into his attacker.
The thing shrieked but only seemed to become further enraged.
Edward screamed and waited to die. Blood was soaking his clothes, and blisters emerged on his hands. There was a sickly sweet smell in the air, and it took him a minute to recognize it as burning human flesh. He’d smelled it before, on burn victims in the hospital.
Edward tried to scream again but couldn’t.
He heard a series of pops and the creature convulsed, then went limp.
Edward tossed it to one side, suddenly aware he might survive, and sucked in cool air. The creature was motionless and charred as black blood pooled around it. A dozen paces away, Riley stood, holding his pistol. Between them, the fire was finally diminishing, now simply consuming the mundane fuels.
“You’ve got to get up,” Faolan said. He and Riley each took an arm and pulled Edward to his feet.
Pain unlike any he’d felt or even imagined possible brought forth the screams that he’d been unable to release moments before. After a few agonizing seconds, the pain subsided to merely excruciating, and at the far edges of his consciousness, he noted that the fight was over. He only hoped that meant they’d won.
Edward had to focus so hard on keeping the pain back that it was hard to breathe. Around him, the urban setting seemed unaware of the battle that had just taken place.
Dante ran over. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here. There’s a tearmann nearby.”
Edward felt himself being urged along and he moved as quickly as he could, gritting his teeth so hard he could feel them grinding. Tears ran down his face, leaving a trail of stinging flesh. With effort, he opened his eyes, and in the distance, he could just see the buildings of Boston’s skyline.
“Hang in there,” Dante said near his ear. “We’ll help you. We can take the pain away, but you have to move.”
Edward wanted nothing more than to just lie down and die. Let the darkness come. Let it swallow him and take away the hurt. Then he thought of Caitlin and Fiona. He’d made a promise to them. Whatever he could do, he would. He could do this. He had to do this.
Holding the image of Caitlin in his mind so tightly he could almost smell her perfume, he increased his speed.
Mercifully, the group slowed and led Edward down a series of stairs. A door opened and he was pushed inside. Scraping for a bit of spare concentration, he gestured his hand at the door.
“Atgyfnerthu.” With that final exertion, everything went black.