CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Chris watched, his arms folded, his grin spreading across his lips. But when his posse was a mere inch from getting them, they all stopped.
“What are you doing?” Chris demanded.
Malcolm turned, his face angry with rage. “There’s a shield. One of them must have a sonic specialism.”
Chris hadn’t really listened to Malcolm’s explanation of the different seer specialisms, nor of the differences between cobalt and bromine, nor any of the scientific mumbo-jumbo. All he cared about was being strong and fighting. But his own powers were virtually non-existent at the moment, although according to Mistress Obsidian they’d develop over time. To see his gang floundering helplessly because of a stupid shield made him furious.
“Do something!” he screamed. “Zap them with lightni
