“No offense, man,” Shadi said, “but if there’s a potion trap in there I’d rather you get hexed than me.”
She had a point. As a powerful wizard, Mez had the best chance of surviving a magical attack. I was second in line, but since I didn’t actively practice the craft, my ability to equalize magical energy was limited.
“Okay,” Mez said with a sigh, “here goes nothing.”
I pulled my emergency canister of saline from my raid rig just in case we needed to douse him.
Mez ducked down, hidden behind the breakfast bar. The oven’s hinges emitted a loud squeak. I held my breath and listened hard.
“Huh.” The wiz’s voice was muffled.
“Was that a good huh or a bad one?” Morales demanded.
“Well, there’s a bomb, so… bad, I guess.”
I started, unsure whether to run toward Mez or the door.
“Mez,” Morales said in a too-calm voice, “should we be running?”
“Nah.” His head popped up from behind the counter. “It’s not live.”
“How can you tell?” asked Shadi.
“There’s a digital timer on the front that doesn’t have any power and, well, it hasn’t gone off yet.”
Morales glanced at Shadi. “Call BPD and have them send their bomb squad.”
“Hold on,” I said, “BPD doesn’t have a bomb squad. You’ll have to call it in to the tactical wizardry unit at the sheriff’s office.”
He nodded at Shadi. “While she does that, I’ll call Gardner. Kate—”
“Uh, guys?” Mez was frowning down at the oven. “I think we need to get out of here now.”
When a wizard with knowledge of potion bombs tells you to go, you don’t question it. The four of us ran out of the apartment. As we did, Mez, shouted, “The magic detector must have set off the timer. We have five minutes.”
Among the four of us, we were able to knock on the doors of the other three units in the building. I pulled a woman who looked to be about Baba’s age out of her place, and Morales carried a three-year-old and hustled his worried mom ahead of him. By the time we got outside, Shadi was already there with the apartment’s super, a middle-aged woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Mez ran out last, his leather bag in one arm and the other around a man whose pale blue irises, unwashed hair, and arm and neck lesions indicated he was several days into a bender.
We guided everyone to an empty lot across the street from the apartment building. Morales was already on the phone with Gardner. Shadi was on hers, too, trying to get in touch with the county tac wizes. I glanced at my watch. The entire evacuation had taken less than four minutes.
Luckily, the apartment building sat at the end of a dead-end street and the building next to it was abandoned, so there weren’t any bystanders to worry about.
“Gardner’s on her way,” Morales said. The kid was clinging to his mom and crying. The piercing wails ramped up the tension of waiting for time to tick down. I glanced at my watch again. Fifteen seconds left, give or take.
“Everyone back up some more,” I said.
Our raid gear was designed with salt slabs built into the antiballistic vests. If the explosion was large, we’d be safer than the others. The four of us gathered in a circle around the residents to form a shield. My back was to the building. I lowered my head and held my breath to brace for the explosion.
A loud pop sounded. Breaking glass. And then the whirring siren of a smoke alarm.
Frowning, I looked over my shoulder. Green smoke rolled out of the three broken windows of the apartment we’d vacated. I exhaled my breath and lowered my arms. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”
BOOM! A wave of heat and energy slammed into me. My body was tossed forward by the concussion, slamming me into the potion freak Mez had pulled out of the building. We fell forward in a heap.
My ears weren’t working. They hurt and there was a buzzing that sounded like it was coming through several thick layers of wool. The back of my neck stung and my forehead ached where it had slammed into the guy’s chin.
Groaning—I couldn’t hear it, but the pain in my chest was pretty obvious—I turned my head. Shadi lay a few feet away, the mother and child under her. The kid was squirming. The mom was not.
Rough hands on my back, turning me over. Morales’s face monopolized my vision. He had a gash on his forehead and blood on his hands. His lips were moving. I think he was saying my name, but he kept shaking me so I couldn’t tell for sure.
He pulled back to shout something to his right. When he moved back, it expanded my field of vision to reveal a wall of fire behind him. Those flames made something in my body flip like a switch. I reared up with a gasp. The movement made me dizzy, but it was suddenly crucial that I stand up and move. Morales grabbed my arm and helped me rise. I leaned into him for a second while I regained my equilibrium. My eyes wanted to close so I could take a nap against his chest.
Sound rushed back with a vengeance. A sudden onslaught of roaring sirens and shouts of firemen and the whimpering child made me wish for the silence’s sweet relief.
“Look at me,” Morales said, lifting my chin. I blinked because the concern on his face felt too intimate. “How you doing, Cupcake?”
I opened my mouth to say I was fine. But I knew it was a lie. Another lie in a string of half-truths and white fibs and outright falsehoods. “Shitty,” I said.
His lips curled up into a smile that felt like a reward.
I pulled away, hoping it didn’t seem too much like retreat. “What’s our status?”
“Everyone’s banged up but alive. Med wizes just pulled up. They’re patching up the mother and Shadi.”
I let out a relieved breath. Last thing I remembered was seeing those two motionless on the ground. “Good,” I said, “that’s good.”
“C’mon. Let’s have them look you over.”
I waved a hand that felt heavier than it had ten minutes earlier. “I’m okay.”
He paused and narrowed his eyes at me. “Kate, you’re covered in blood.”
I looked down. My hands were slippery with red slick. The skin looked like it belonged on someone else. “Wh—how?”
“Looks like the glass got you.” He touched my head gingerly. The contact stung my scalp, and the movement made the back of my neck come alive with pain. “Let’s go.”
He led me toward the three ambulances at the curb. A medical wizard came forward immediately. I dropped onto the bumper of the ambulance while he cleaned the wounds with saline. Morales stood over me as if he expected me to bolt, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Exhaustion had its own force of gravity, pinning me to the bumper.