No Sanctuary by Z.J. Cannon

Author:Z.J. Cannon [Cannon, Z.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Z.J. Cannon
Published: 2021-10-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

I wasn’t at all sure this was going to work. In theory, my clothes would be enough to insulate me from the steel cuffs. I could carry a phone in my pocket without it interfering with my magic, after all. But the average cell phone didn’t have nearly as much steel in its construction as those handcuffs. I didn’t know whether that thin layer of fabric between the steel and my skin would be enough to free my magic.

But I had to try. Because if I had to drop the cuffs on the ground, it would mean cutting the magic short as soon as I picked them back up again, or abandoning them here and leaving me—and more importantly, everyone and everything around me—unprotected.

My magic stuttered in my veins. It crept out cautiously from my core, flickering like a staticky picture on an old television screen. But as it spread out through my limbs, it picked up speed. A liquid heat filled me, making my limbs feel both relaxed and alight with energy. The flickers grew fainter, then stopped entirely.

“Do you see anything happening?” one of the lackeys asked from behind me.

“Nothing,” said the other. “I think he’s planning something. Be ready to—”

I never got to find out what they would be ready to do. Because just then, the power rolled out of me like a wave.

Although maybe a wave wasn’t the best comparison, because as always these days, the only element my magic borrowed from was air. The summer breeze turned to a gale. The fence shook, then stilled as the power abruptly retreated from the metal. But all around the fence, the wind continued unabated. Grit flew up from the ground, stinging my eyes. The plastic casing of the alarm box cracked and burst; black splinters rained down around me. One of them lodged itself in my upper arm, drawing blood.

A shrill whine filled the air. In the distance, I caught movement to either side as guards raced to our position.

Just a little more. I needed this to look like a serious threat, not a drunk teenager shooting at the alarm box. I stayed where I was, and let my power roam free. It spread over the top of the fence, shaking the top as the wind passed. It picked up speed as it moved. A lightbulb popped. My magic couldn’t touch the shipping containers on the other side of the fence—too much steel in them for that—but the pavement cracked, then splintered. A crater opened up between two containers. Chunks of concrete ricocheted off the fence.

That would have to be enough. “Get in the truck!” I yelled. This time, I didn’t need to tell them twice. I dove in behind them just as the lackey in the driver seat stepped on the gas.

As we sped away, a strip of upholstery peeled off the back of my seat; the lackeys’ hair flew into their faces. I closed my fingers around the handcuffs. The wind stopped. In the rearview mirror, the dust settled.

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