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Back Seasons of Chaos Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. Epilogue
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. About the Author
  68. Books by Elle Cosimano
  69. Back Ad
  70. About the Publisher

I stagger upright. Jack’s surrounded by mist, frozen midstride. Positioning myself in front of him, I release my hold on my magic. Jack hurtles toward me, his eyes flying wide as he skids to a halt. He falls at my feet, scrambling away from me, leaping back to avoid the scythe as it swings.

“How did you do that?” he pants.

“Where is she?” I spit blood, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

“Listen to me.” He holds out his hands as we circle each other, as if I’m some kind of feral creature he’s trying to cage. “That pain you’re feeling is the magic. It’s going to fight its way out, and when it does, it’s going to kill you. And if you don’t give up some of the power, it will probably destroy all of us. The Observatory. The Seasons. Everyone.”

I laugh at his assumption that I care. “If I’m going down, Sommers, you’re all coming with me.”

I swing the scythe again, and this time, Jack runs.

56

Tattered and Swift

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JACK

I haul ass into a patch of thick fog. Stitches pulling, muscles screaming, lungs on fire, my feet fly down the sloping path toward the northwest side of the park. Doug must be screwing with time. It’s the only explanation for the way he appeared right in front of me. No one can move that fast. But to do it again, he’ll have to spot me first. I stick to the dense white ribbons of mist, changing trajectory every few yards. The staff is heavy. It’ll only weigh him down. I just have to stay far enough ahead of him.

Doug screams my name. I don’t look back.

“Jack?” Chill’s voice in my ear is a light in the dark.

“I’m here,” I say in the short space between breaths. Fog and rain weave a heavy blanket over the park, obscuring the path ahead of me. I don’t know where the hell I’m going. With any luck, maybe Doug doesn’t, either.

“Did you get the staff?”

“No.”

The length of his pause makes me want to turn around. To go back and fix my mistake.

“Keep going,” Chill says. “It doesn’t matter. You’re doing great.”

But it does matter. Our whole plan depended on me taking the staff.

“Fleur?” I pant. “Where is she?”

“She’s here. She made it.”

The relief almost brings me to my knees. I hit flat terrain at the bottom of the hill and push myself faster. “Bring me home, Chill.”

“I’ve got you.”

“Jack!” I turn over my shoulder, nearly tripping at the nearness of Doug’s voice. The fog parts. Through it, I catch a flash of silver.

I lengthen my stride. “Doug’s right behind me.”

“How far?”