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"Drop your shoulder."
Theo's voice is tight, sounding drawn and exhausted the way that Jet feels. Sprinkle curls against her wrist as she raises Flickerish again, her body aching but continuing out of pure spite.
Theo's new familiar sits on his shoulder, gossamer red wings tucked close and its sharp bird-of-prey eyes watching Jet's every move. She hates it, the new familiar. She hates Theo a little, too.
Mostly, she thinks, feeling the cold press of her now useless locket against her sternum and acutely aware of the loss of Ruby in sync next to her, she just hates herself.