Bishop’s stomach went cold.
The first counterstrike shot across the field in a black-gold blur aimed right at Bishop.
Handy stepped in front of him.
The blast slammed into Handy. Blood burst from his mouth as he crashed back into Bishop, arms still up, body locked between Bishop and the power trying to reach him.
A second strike came harder.
It broke through and ripped them off their feet.
Bishop hit the ground under him, air gone. He shoved up as Handy rolled off, limp beside him.
“Handy!” Bishop grabbed his face. “Handy!”
His eyes dragged open, full of pain and fury. “Still got bones,” he rasped.
Another strike cracked across the field, hitting Zodak. Red-white electricity buried in black rot forced itself into Zodak’s haptic arm.
Quantum reached him first, latching onto his wrist with both hands, fracturing the flow.
Trucks skidded in behind them as Bishop ran to help free Zodak.
“Get Handy!” Bishop yelled to Hurricane and Shank.
Fin forged a sword of light and drove it into the current. It bucked hard and dropped him to one knee. Fetch and Fathom caught him from both sides, absorbing what got loose.
Bishop stopped at the river of power and shoved his hand into it. Pain blasted up his arm and lit behind his eye.
Zodak’s haptic arm snapped into his vision, metal locked, flesh tearing where the demon buried its hook. Bishop caught it.
The demon hit him through the line and his knees slammed into the dirt. Blood ran hot from his nose as he curled his fingers in the current. Bishop jerked and Zodak roared.
Come on youfucker!
He jerked again and darkness burst out around it—the evil buried in the stolen power.
Bishop reached for it, watching it slide through his hand like smoke.
It reared back with a growling screech, then plunged for Zodak’s chest.
Seer stepped in front of it.
The darkness slammed into his chest andvanished.
Zodak fell like a tower. Samuel stood frozen.
Bishop ran for him, his architecture misfiring.
“No, no, nooooo!” Bishop roared as Seer slowly toppled backward.
The Triplets caught him as Bishop hit his knees next to him, grabbing hold of his throat. His scans flickered and jumped through too many readings. He pressed his ear to his chest, gasping. “I can’t hear anything,” he strained, a sob forcing its way out.
Fin pressed a hand on Seer’s chest, jolting him while Fathom held his fingers on his temple and at the back of his neck.
“I have his pulse,” Fin hurried.
Bishop fought to think around the images replaying in his head—Seer stepping in front of Zodak then him toppling over. “It all went in him,” Bishop said, looking at Fathom. “What are you fucking seeing!” he yelled.