A syllable. Another. A bright spark.
I spin, grab for the sword. A line of white fire briefly attaches Leo Malkin to Clyde’s face. To his mask. A moment of connection. And then gone.
Clyde slumps. My sword is out of its sheath. Kayla is moving. I swear I even see the muzzle flares as the guns discharge. But the world has lost its soundtrack, has gone silent as the grave.
A line of lightning. From Malkin to Felicity.
Felicity.
My Felicity.
Lightning. Bright and urgent and overwhelming. And then gone. Gone as Kayla’s sword descends, as the bullets fly. Gone as utterly as Leo Malkin.
Clyde falls to the ground.
Felicity falls to the ground.
Tabitha screams.
The smell of charred meat fills my nose.
Leo Malkin is not there.
I stare. And I stare. As Tabitha howls at the world.
Because… because… but there was no power.
Except the power in Clyde’s mask. The one power source that we brought to him. The one power source keeping Clyde alive.
Clyde lies on the ground. Felicity lies on the ground.
Tabitha screams.
The smell of charred meat fills my nose.
Power—stolen from Clyde. Power—electricity, lightning, that burned through the air, that lit the world, that was buried in Felicity. My Felicity. Burned into her. Scorched and blackened. And then, its last remnants, fulfilling Leo Malkin’s last wish, propelling him up, up, up. Into Big Ben.
And he’s gone. And Clyde’s gone. And Felicity… Oh God. Oh no.
He lies on the ground.
She lies on the ground.
Tabitha screams.
The smell of charred meat fills my nose.
They’re dead.