20 Years Later by Emma Newman

dim, one place his stomach where he had just been hit. As Zane focused more closely, bruises began to bloom on his arms, face and legs, even where clothing obscured his normal sight.
    Visible to everyone, a sudden flash of intense blue light far up the street in the direction that Jay had taken the girl illuminated the buildings, casting shadows as strong as if it were noon, and then disappeared just as quickly. A high-pitchedscream sliced through the darkness. Another scream followed soon after, but this one was cut off suddenly and an eerie silence fell.
    The distraction pulled Zane’s focus away from the boy and his vision returned to normal. Callum crouched down quickly at the sight of the flash, keeping his hand on Zane’s shoulder protectively.
    Another burst of the same light, a huge arc of bright blue lightning leapt from somewhere up the street, far too low and disturbingly horizontal for it to be anything natural. The end of the arc struck Grame in the chest like a whip. He flew into the air, thrown several feet backwards to slam into an old lamp post. The torch was knocked out of his hand and snuffed out when it landed, casting most of the street into darkness. Grame’s body thudded to the ground.
    There was absolute silence for a moment, as all the Boys stared in horror down the street. Then in the next, there was pandemonium, the Boys scattering, yelling, and screaming as they ran back to their square. Mark waited until they had all left the street, not caring about the unconscious child left where he had fallen. When he was sure all the Boys were away, he took a deep breath and shouted “Jay!” as loud as he could. When no response came, he began to run towards where he had last seen him, taking his own torch with him.
    â€œStupid boy!” Callum hissed to himself.
    They both watched helplessly as another crackling finger of lightning flicked out to him. It pitched him into the air with a cry, flinging him into one of the buildings. They heard the loud crack as his head hit the stone, and the last of the torch-light revealed a smear of blood as he and the torch fell to the ground.
    Zane shivered violently, staring out into the blackness fearfully, so very grateful for the protection of the building. Nothing happened for a few moments, and Callum kept himstill. All he could hear was the sound of his own rapid breathing and distant noises of the Bloomsbury Boys scrabbling into their hiding places.
    â€œKeep still. We’re safe here,” Callum whispered in his ear. “We’ll wait a little longer, then they’ll be gone.”
    â€œWhat
was
that?” Zane whispered back, his throat tight and mouth dry with fear.
    â€œNothing good,” Callum muttered back grimly.
    No more lightning came. Callum kept them there for what seemed to Zane to be an almost unbearable length of time. He wanted nothing more than to get home to his mother.
    Finally, the old man stood slowly, drew him away from the window, and began to steer him back through the building, down the fire escape and to the end of the alleyway. The waning moon was low in the sky and Zane was thankful for the pale light it gave. Callum stopped him from going on into the square.
    â€œWait here,” he whispered, and then slipped out into the shadow of the old bank. Zane waited, twitching and jumping at the slightest noise.
    Callum soon reappeared, this time cradling to him the beaten boy, who was moaning quietly with every movement. Zane stared at him and then looked at Callum.
    â€œTwo of his ribs are broken,” he told the old man, whose surprised expression didn’t quite move his beard, only one of his eyebrows.
    Callum hurried to Miri’s house, Zane beside him, to find her in the doorway waiting for them.
    â€œI heard the alarm,” she said, the argument earlier that day forgotten as she saw how ashen their faces were and the state of the boy in Callum’s arms.
    Just like any Bloomsbury