Maurice’s sneer returns. “That was actually the point,” he says. Then, turning his attention back to me, his eyes widen in shock as I thrust my dagger deep into his side. He looks down at it and roars.

Releasing the hilt, I sprint toward Siaka. Throwing myself down, I kneel over him. “Are you okay?” I gasp.

His face is pale. His shirt is sopping with blood. “I’ll be fine,” he says through clenched teeth. His eyes are glazed with tears.

“You don’t look okay.” I carefully lift the bunched-up cloth he’s holding to his chest. The wound is deep, and from the amount of blood pumping out of it, I’m guessing his heart was pierced.

He shakes his head as if it doesn’t matter. “Don’t let him kill Liv. Get her through...” He stops and squeezes his eyes shut, before forcing them open again. He searches my face.

“What? Get her through what?”

And then I understand.

I hear a roar from behind me and turn to see Maurice marching furiously toward us like that robot cop in Terminator. The red stain on his shirt is proof I wounded him, but it obviously wasn’t bad enough to stop him.

I scramble to my feet. Aiming carefully, I fling my dagger toward Maurice.

With his attention on Liv, Maurice doesn’t see it coming. It lodges deep into his bicep, but he doesn’t even flinch. Yanking it out with his left hand, he hurls it back in my direction. It whizzes past me, and I exhale in relief. Then I realize he wasn’t aiming for me. I turn and see the knife planted in Siaka’s neck. His eyes are wide and unblinking.

Liv stares aghast, heedless to the fact that Maurice is heading toward her with sword drawn. I pick myself up and run straight for her, desperately trying to reach her before Maurice. And when I do, I ram her like a linebacker, plowing her toward the doorway in the rock. As we reach it, I give her a shove, and she stumbles through, falling to the ground inside the tunnel entrance.

For me, touching the invisible force field is like hitting an electrified fence. A sharp current courses through me as the magical entrance repels me. I pitch backward, landing on my back on the ground.

And that is how I’m lying when Maurice steps up into my line of vision, sword raised above his head, point aimed at my chest. With a roar, he plunges the blade downward, driving its tip through my heart. My chest explodes with pain, and my body convulses with the shock. My vision floods with black, like ink spilling over glass. And then I am gone.

Chapter Twenty Five