My first impulse is not to berate Carter or even to thank him, but to rush past him. I do, scrambling back up to the window. For a moment, I can see the alleyway below. There, standing in its center, is Malcolm. He’s peering up at me, his gaze worried.
“Malc—”
Before his name can fully leave my mouth, the window slams shut. It freezes over, crystals forming on the glass before a solid wall of ice shrouds my view. It’s thick and opaque, and I can’t even detect shadows or shapes on the other side.
I teeter again, but this time, hands at my waist keep me from crashing to the floor. I don’t want to say thank you. I really don’t. So, I go with the other question pinging around in my head.
“What are you doing here?”
Carter raises his hands as if I’ve accused him of something. “Trying to hel
