Cold rain ran over the broken concrete and carried thin ribbons of blood toward the storm drains. Nora’s right arm was fractured badly enough that every movement sent pain up to her shoulder, yet she kept herself upright against the wall. The platinum glow in her eyes was weakening. She tried to call Ethan’s name, but the roar of engines and static swallowed it.
Ethan was still standing, although barely. Cuts and burns covered his chest, and the silver in his wounds had turned the rain around him pink. He stepped in front of the children without ceremony. The scent of cedar and mint that normally marked his presence was almost gone, replaced by smoke, blood, and hot metal.
"You look pathetic," Julian said. The words were flat, almost bored. The Council’s drugs had hollowed out everything
