
“She’s killing her!” Vincet shouted, terrified. “Jenks, she’s killing my daughter!”
“Get her away from the line!” the gargoyle cried out as he stood his ground. “I can see the energy flowing into her. You have to get Vi out of the line!”
Jenks’s lips parted. Cursing himself as a fool, he darted to Vincet, snatching the pain-racked child to him and throwing himself straight up. The line. The entire garden was in the line between the statues! Get her far enough away, and the connection would break!
Vi fought him as his ears popped painfully, thumping her fists into his chest and squirming until she suddenly went terrifyingly limp. “Vi!” Jenks shouted, scrambling to catch her as she threatened to slip from him, a good forty feet up. Her skin was hot, and her face was pale in the glow of his own dust. But a profound peace was on her face, and as he held her far above the dark city, fear struck him deep. The silver tint to her aura was gone.
“Vi,” he whispered, jiggling her as the night cocooned them. “Vi, wake up. It’s over.” Oh God. Had he failed her? Was she dying? Killed by his own shortsightedness? Another man’s child dead in his arms because of his failing?
Vi’s lips parted, sucking in air like it was water. Her eyes flashed open, green and full of terror in the light of the moon.
“Tink save you, you’re okay,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. She was herself. Sylvan was no longer in her thoughts. That terror of a woman no longer burned her.
With a frightened whimper, Vi threw herself at him, her thin arms cold as they wrapped around his neck. “Don’t let him hurt me,” she begged as she cried, her little body shaking. “Please, don’t let the statue hurt me anymore!”
A clear, healthy glow enveloped them as Jenks held her close, his hand against the back of her head as he whispered it was over, that she was okay, and he was taking her to her papa. He promised her that the statue wouldn’t hurt her again and that Uncle Jenks would take care of everything. Foolish promises, but he couldn’t stop himself.
