Molly ran into the powerhouse, pulling water in front of her body like a shield. It wouldn’t do much to protect her, but it might at least make her a harder target to hit. She hurtled toward the edge of the catwalk and vaulted over it, shoving water under her to soften the landing.
It still hurt—the impact jarred her knees, ankles, even her shoulders. But she kept her feet and crouched into a fighting stance, water swirling around her.
Well, she’d surprised him, anyway. He turned toward her, drawing his gun so fast she felt a jolt of terror through the adrenaline. “How many of you are there?” he yelled.
“A bridge?” Molly asked, still leaning over the spillway. Brennan stepped up beside her, .
“You can shape the water, and I can freeze it.”
Molly looked back out over the dam. Right here, they were only an arm-span above the spill of water coming through the open gate. From her vantage on the edge of scaffolding, the fog-obscured shape of the platform where Ivy was trapped seemed even further away than it was.
“That’s going to be a ton of water,” she said, imagining the strain of holding enough water to span thirty or forty feet. “Like, literally a ton.”
“Too much to move?”
Molly shrugged. “Power’s never been my problem. Control is. I couldn’t do it for long.”