Hand of the God

The DeathSpeaker Codex: Book 8

Sonya Bateman

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Copyright © 2019 by Sonya Bateman

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Lou Harper, Harper By Design

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

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Books in The DeathSpeaker Codex series

Available now from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

WRONG SIDE OF HELL

FIELDS OF BLOOD

REALM OF MIRRORS

RETURN OF THE HUNTERS

CITY OF SECRETS

PRISON OF HORRORS

THE SCROLLS OF GIDEON

HAND OF THE GOD

Coming soon… Book 9 (untitled) in the DeathSpeaker Codex!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

More books by Sonya Bateman

About the Author

Prologue

New Mexico - Sunrise

Yusef watched through the windshield as the charter plane descended into the badlands, taking in the unspoiled nature of this place where humans had yet to scar the environment. It would all be like this soon. The grand plan would be set into motion, and though the blood would run in rivers, oceans, before it was over, what survived would be purified and sanctified.

The world would be saved.

“Pretty morning, ain’t it?” the pilot half-shouted over the chopped buzz of the plane’s engines as he flipped various switches, checked gauges, and guided the aircraft toward the ground and the nearly invisible landing strip that paralleled the steep face of the mountains immediately to the right. “Yeah, it’ll be hot enough to sizzle your biscuits in a few hours, but it sure is nice to look at.”

Yusef didn’t bother to comment. He had no time for small talk, and no interest in encouraging this man to pry into Milus Dei business. What he’d come all the way here to take care of was delicate, but urgent.

There was a potential threat to the plan, and it must be handled.

The plane bumped down. As the pilot turned his attention to stopping the rickety little puddle-jumper, Yusef cast a critical gaze over the cargo secured behind them. None of the straps appeared to have loosened or ripped themselves apart in the forty-minute flight from the private airfield near Roswell — a minor miracle in itself, considering the state of this aircraft. He had taken extra precautions with one crate in particular. The long, slender one fastened carefully just behind his seat held the key to this undertaking, the one that would allow him and his fellow paladins to address the threat fully.

Provided, of course, that the artificer was persuaded to cooperate. But that was why he’d been selected to make this journey above his brothers. Yusef could be very persuasive when necessary. And failing that, his presence would allow his lord to take matters into his own hands.

“Uh … so where, exactly, are you going with all this crap? You do know there’s nothing out here for miles, right?”

The pilot’s voice cut into his musing, and Yusef realized that the plane had stopped and the engines were winding down. They’d reached the end of the landing strip, and nothing was there to greet them. Cavanaugh should have been here waiting, damn him. In Yusef’s opinion, the magister of the Fata site had been more trouble than he was worth since the incident with Subject Z-000119, and the subsequent loss of the facility’s best researchers. These days, Cavanaugh was little better than a glorified boot-licker, though he’d at least managed to keep this site secure. So far.

“My team will be here momentarily,” Yusef said to the pilot as he reached into his satchel for something and handed it to the man. “In the meantime, if you would put this on, please.”

The pilot took the small, folded piece of coarse brown material, shook it out, and frowned. “No, thanks,” he said, trying to hand it back. “I know what happens to guys who wear these.”

“Mr. Vanderwall.” Yusef stared coolly at the pilot as he used his name for the first time, just to ensure the man was paying attention. “Do not mistake my polite tone as an invitation to debate my orders. I may have said please, but that was not a request.”

“Your orders? Who the hell do you think—”

“Put the hood on, Mr. Vanderwall. The terms of our contract are quite clear,” Yusef said. “I won’t tell you again.”

The man hesitated for an instant, and Yusef saw the decision he’d made in his eyes a moment before he pulled the rough burlap over his head. The mistrustful glare that said he was doing this only for the money, and not out of any respect for authority. That look could prove problematic.

“As I mentioned, my team will arrive any moment,” Yusef said as he gripped the handle of the small door beside him and stared at the hooded pilot. “You will remain here until I tell you it’s safe to leave the area. Is that understood?”

The pilot grunted something that was not especially agreeable.

Yusef held back a sigh as he opened the door and climbed down from the plane. Using this man’s charter service had not been his idea, though the pilot had come highly recommended. And now Cavanaugh’s failure to arrive on time had complicated matters significantly. He did hate to spill more human blood than necessary, but if Vanderwall witnessed anything that could compromise the facility’s secrecy, he would be forced to ensure the pilot’s permanent silence.

In fact, he may have to do so regardless of whether the man obeyed the order to stay put. Clearly, Mr. Vanderwall had been an unfortunate mistake.

He busied himself by opening the cargo hatch and beginning to unfasten the first of the crates. He hadn’t been at it long when a vast, low grinding sound rolled through the still desert air. When he turned toward the mountain and saw the hidden doors opening and a small convoy of vehicles driving out from the interior, he cursed under his breath.

Now it was certain. The pilot would have to die.

Yusef took his time as he slid a large crate from the aircraft and set it on the ground. The noise of the approaching vehicles rose steadily, and he circled the plane toward the door on the pilot’s side. He would invite Mr. Vanderwall to assist with the cargo after all, and then dispose of him and destroy the plane once it was done.

But when he first knocked on the door, and then opened it, he found an empty seat.

The fury that pulsed briefly through him was directed toward Cavanaugh. If the magister had been on time, this wouldn’t have been necessary. He stepped back, closed the door softly, and turned in a slow half-circle. “Mr. Vanderwall?” he said in calm tones as he bent to look beneath the plane. “I want to apologize, for the hood. Where are you?”

He didn’t expect a response. But he also didn’t expect to see a figure some distance across the desert, heading away from the mountains, already obscured by the heat shimmer of the newly-risen sun. The man looked to be at least half a mile out and moving quickly. Vanderwall must have fled the moment Yusef got out of the plane.

Perhaps he’d misread the grudging rebellion in the pilot’s eyes the moment before he donned the hood. It may have been paranoia.

No matter. The nearest town — Basin Springs, the home of his wayward charter pilot — was at least thirty miles from here across the desert wasteland. The chances were slim that Vanderwall would survive the trek.

Still, Yusef would remove even that remote possibility from the equation.

On the other side of the aircraft, engines were being turned off, vehicle doors opening and closing. He heard a few murmurs of conversation as he walked around to greet Cavanaugh, composing his features into a relaxed mask.

Magister Cavanaugh stood beside the lead vehicle, the first of four jeeps. Behind them were three cargo trucks with wooden slat sides, and then two more jeeps, each flanked with men on four-wheelers. All of the men were heavily armed and wore desert camouflage and helmets, save for Cavanaugh, who was dressed in dark linen and a black fedora.

And talking on a cell phone.

Yusef’s jaw clenched as the magister glanced at him and held up a finger. “Yes, I heard you the first time,” he said into the phone. “He’s here now. I’ll find out what he wants to do about it. All right. Don’t call again.” He ended the call and sighed heavily as he tossed the phone onto the driver’s seat of the jeep. “Sorry about that,” he said. “We have a—”

“You’re late.”

Cavanaugh flinched at the cold tone of Yusef’s voice. “I’m sorry, but it couldn’t be helped,” he said carefully. “We have a problem.”

“Yes, we do.” He jerked his head toward the plane. “The pilot’s run off. Into the desert. You’ll need to send some of your men after him and dispose of him.”

“Fine. The pilot was the problem, anyway.” Cavanaugh turned toward the rest of the convoy and barked a few orders. In response, one of the jeeps carrying three armed men pulled out of the line and headed around the plane. The magister shook his head as he turned back. “That’s why I’m late,” he said. “My contact in Basin Springs says that Vanderwall broke the non-disclosure agreement. Told one of his friends about this contract, who he was working for, and where he was going.”

“He did what?”

This time Cavanaugh jerked hard enough to stumble back against the jeep. He cleared his throat. “I said—”

“I heard what you said,” Yusef nearly snarled. He drew a steadying breath and closed his eyes, thinking it through. “Who did he tell? How many?” he said without looking at the magister.

The other man made a small, strangled sound. “I don’t know that much. Yet,” he added quickly. “But it has to be someone in town. This guy doesn’t have many friends, either. I’ll have my contact find out, and—”

“It may be too late already.” Yusef rubbed a temple absently as a spike of pain shot through his head. Apparently, his lord had taken an interest in this conversation — the pain was a sign that he was listening intently. “Contact your man now,” he said. “I wish to speak with him.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Cavanaugh said with a faint sneer. “I can handle this.”

Yusef’s eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning my orders?”

If Cavanaugh had a response to that, Yusef didn’t hear it. Suddenly there was nothing but dark, smooth silence, the sensation of floating in an endless void. His lord must have stepped in to address the magister.

He very nearly felt sorry for the man.

When Yusef returned to himself, it was as usual with the sensation of hundreds of nails scraping his insides — caused by the essence of the one he served leaving his body. He withstood the pain, accepted it gratefully. None of the other paladins were strong enough to contain their lord, but Yusef had dedicated his life to making himself worthy. And he would be rewarded.

Cavanaugh had fared no better from the visitation. The man was on his knees in the dirt, gibbering incoherently with blood leaking from his nostrils. His eyes were impossibly wide and staring at nothing.

Yusef backhanded him.

The magister drew a great, whooping breath and focused. Shivering set in as he bowed his head and pushed up slowly from the ground, not daring to meet Yusef’s eyes.

“I trust that your orders have been made clear, then,” Yusef said.

“Yes, sir. My apologies.” The rasping whisper was tinged with fear. Whatever his lord had said to the man, it must have been effective. He had faith that the situation would be properly rectified.

Yusef turned back to the plane as Cavanaugh began issuing orders. The men could unload the rest of the aircraft, but he would secure the weapon himself. It was far too important for a fool like Cavanaugh to handle.

The end is coming, he thought as a small smile played on his lips.

And what a glorious end it would be.

Chapter 1

Manhattan, New York City - Morning(ish)

Abe poked his head into the morgue corridor and looked around like a kid getting ready to sneak to the bathroom for a joint. Finally, he stepped out and motioned for me to follow him.

“You do know that we both have the authority to be here, right?” I said as I moved out of the elevator nook into the hallway and joined him. “I mean, you’re a cop. And I’m sanctioned, or whatever. I still come down here pretty regularly, even if you’re riding a desk these days.”

“Ha-ha.” He rolled his eyes as we walked. “I just want to make sure none of my guys are around, especially Hawkins,” he said. “Got a feeling he’d really lose his shit if he saw what you’re about to do to his brother.”

“Oh, man. The vic is Robbie Hawkins’ brother?” Robbie was a patrol officer when I started moving bodies for the NYPD, and I’d run into him at plenty of scenes. Even more often when he made detective, which hadn’t taken long — he was whip-smart and sharp as hell, besides being an all-around good guy.

Abe nodded. “Yeah, he’s taking it real hard. Won’t eat, won’t sleep, and he’s been working round-the-clock for just about seventy-two hours now. It’s going on day four and he’s got nothing. I don’t have the heart to take him off the case, but …” He let out a sigh. “He can’t keep on like this, and he’s not going to stop until he finds out who killed his brother.”

I couldn’t blame him, really. I had no idea what I’d do if I lost Taeral, but I knew it wouldn’t be pretty. “So that’s why you wanted me to do my thing, right?” I said. “I ask the man who killed him, you slip the info to Robbie, he gets to close the case and stand down before he works himself into the ground.”

“Something like that.” Abe shook his head. “It’s a damn shame, though. Hawkins is one of my best detectives, and it’ll be a long time before he’s back in top form after this. If he ever gets there. Whatever bastard shot his brother, I’d happily arrest him myself — and it wouldn’t be one of those textbook arrests.”

I clapped his shoulder. “Come on, Abe. Police brutality?” I said. “You’d never hurt anyone, if there was any possible way to avoid it. No matter what flavor of asshole they might be.”

“Yeah, well sometimes I wish I would,” he grumbled, slowing to a stop in front of one of the exam room doors. “He’s in here.”

I let Abe go in first, and then followed him through and shut the door. This room had eight body drawers and two autopsy tables, one of them holding a sheet-draped corpse. “That should be him,” Abe said, approaching the occupied table. “I had Doc Cavanaugh pull him out for us. She said she’d text me if anyone heads for this room.”

That was a good idea. Dr. Cavanaugh was pretty much the only medical examiner here who wouldn’t ask too many questions about weird shit I might be doing, since she’d seen plenty of weird from me in the past few years. “How is Viv, anyway?” I said. “I don’t see her much since she switched to the day shift.”

Abe shrugged. “She’s good, far as I know,” he said. “Her and Thompson are engaged, you know. June wedding.”

“No shit, really? Good for them,” I said. Last I remembered, Viv and Detective Brad Thompson had been going on date three. That had been the moment I realized things weren’t going to work out for me and Dr. Vivian Cavanaugh — mostly because I’d never actually gotten around to asking her on a date.

But I had a thing with Calla Frost now, and it was … going. I hoped.

Abe pulled the sheet halfway back, exposing the dead man’s torso. He looked about mid-thirties, with brown hair and a rounded face that bore a definite resemblance to Robbie, even in death. The stitched Y-incision on his chest, made ragged by a gunshot wound left of center, said they’d already finished the autopsy.

“His name’s Jack,” Abe said. “He was found shot in an alley. Poor son of a bitch died of a cliché.”

Yeah, that definitely sucked.

I walked around the body, frowning slightly as I considered how to phrase what I had to say to Abe. He’d never seen me talk to the dead, not even when I used to do it all in my head and no one but me could hear them. Now I knew how to project souls out with a glamour, which allowed anyone who was around to see, hear, and interact with them.

Except when I used the glamour method, it usually looked like the dead body woke up from being dead and started talking.

I wasn’t sure Abe was ready for that — but he had seen magic before. It was impossible to spend much time around me and not witness at least a little magic. So, I figured I’d leave the decision up to him.

“About my thing,” I said, stopping across the autopsy table from him. I’d finally told him that I was the DeathSpeaker not too long ago, but we still both referred to it as ‘my thing.’ It was too weird to discuss frankly with the man who was practically my dad. “I can do it two ways. The first one is just him talking in my head, and me telling you what he says.” I wouldn’t mention that the first way was painful. If he’d rather not see the freaky trick, I could put up with a headache and a bloody nose. “The second way lets you see and hear him, and you can talk to him too.”

Abe raised an eyebrow. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ with that second way.”

“Yeah, there’s a ‘but.’” I smirked. “It’s gonna look like I brought him back to life. I can’t actually do that, it’s just an illusion. But it’s … a little disturbing.”

“Huh. It sure as hell sounds disturbing.” He looked at the body and sighed. “Well, in for a penny, right?” he said. “Let’s go with door number two.”

“Okay. This shouldn’t take long.”

I touched the dead man’s shoulder and closed my eyes. It was easier to get things started when I had direct contact with the remains, though I could do it without. “Jack,” I said. “You in there?”

I felt a tug in my head, and heard a male voice. What’s going on?

“Tell you in a minute.” I moved back and focused on projecting his soul onto the body, pushing it gently from my head. This one was easier than some, because he wasn’t trying to resist me. Most of the dead people I talked to did not want to respond.

That was because they couldn’t lie to me, and they had to answer my questions. Bad guys didn’t like being interrogated while they were hooked up to an anti-lying device.

The pale corpse of Jack took on a little color. His eyes opened with a gasp and he sat up on the table, blinking around in confusion. “Where am I?” he said, and turned toward me. “Um … who are you?”

Abe made a small, distressed sound and stumbled back from the table, crossing himself.

“Didn’t know you were Catholic, Abe,” I said as I held back a laugh.

He swallowed hard. “I’m not. Doesn’t hurt to be on the safe side, though.”

“Right.” I turned to Jack and smiled. “You don’t know me, but I’m a friend of your brother’s,” I said. “I work with him, sort of.”

“You know Robbie?” Frown lines crinkled his brow, and he glanced over at Abe. “You’re his captain, aren’t you? Captain Strauss. I’ve seen you in your office sometimes when Robbie and I have lunch. Are … are you dead, too?”

“Er, no. Not dead,” Abe said, a hand going to the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for your … uh, you. Being shot and all.”

Jack smiled a bit. “Well, you didn’t shoot me.”

“That’s why we’re here,” I said, deciding I didn’t need to explain the whole DeathSpeaker thing to this guy. He seemed to accept that he was dead and also here, talking to his brother’s captain, and that was fine with me. It saved time. “We’d like to know who did shoot you, if you don’t mind telling us.”

The dead man took on a somber expression. “It was Boyd Pearson.”

“Shit,” Abe said under his breath. “You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.”

I frowned. “Who’s Boyd Pearson?”

“He’s a serial criminal my brother’s been chasing, who’s robbed at least six stores and killed two convenience store clerks a few years ago,” Jack said, and then blinked and cocked his head. “Why did I say all that?”

“Sorry. That was my fault,” I said. I’d asked him a question, and he’d been compelled to answer. “Tell you what, I’ll just let Abe do the talking.”

“Uh, yeah,” Abe said slowly, giving me a strange look. “It was definitely Pearson, huh?” he said to Jack. “Do you happen to know if there’s any way we can prove that?”

Jack thought for a minute. “He has my wallet with my ID in it, and my blood all over it,” he said eventually. “It was in my breast pocket, and he took it after he shot me. Stuck it in his jacket — dirty brown leather bomber with black trim. Does that help?”

“Yes, it does,” Abe said. “If we can get that wallet, or even the jacket, I think we can charge him and make it stick. Thanks, Jack.”

“Oh, no. Robbie …” The dead man’s face fell. “He’s going to blame himself for this when he finds out it was Pearson, because of that thing with the warrant. That son of a bitch should’ve been in prison years ago — but Robbie isn’t the one who screwed it up, even though he thinks he did. Please, tell my brother it’s not his fault.”

Abe grimaced and gave a nod. “Yeah. I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you.”

I waited until I was sure Abe didn’t have any more questions. “Okay, I think we can let you go now,” I said, being careful not to ask him anything else myself. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem,” he said. “Um, where am I going?”

“Back to wherever you were, I guess.” I still didn’t know exactly what happened to people — or Fae, or anyone else — after they died, but I knew there was something out there. “And it won’t hurt or anything,” I added, in case he was worried.

“All right. Good to know,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Captain. And … whoever you are.”

I laughed. “Gideon,” I said. “And likewise.”

As I pulled his soul back into my head and released it, the ‘body’ closed his eyes and laid back on the table. There was a soft sigh as the color drained back out of the corpse and Jack returned to the other side of whatever.

“Okay. Disturbing is not the word I’d have used,” Abe said, his gaze riveted to the body. “Maybe next time tell me it’s goddamn terrifying. Man, how do you even get used to doing something like that?”

I shrugged. “Not really used to it, tell you the truth. It’s just a thing I have to do sometimes,” I said. “How about we get out of here?”

“Right behind you.”

Abe breathed a sigh of relief when we were back in the corridor, headed for the elevator. “I think I might have nightmares about that shit,” he muttered. “But it was worth it. Thanks for doing that. Maybe now we can finally put Pearson where he belongs, and Hawkins can have a little closure. When he stops blaming himself.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I felt pretty awful for Robbie. Even though he’d know who killed his brother now, that knowledge would put him in a hell of a situation.

We got back to the elevator, and Abe hit the up button. “Didn’t you say you had a date tonight?” he asked.

“Not a date, exactly. I guess it’s kind of … a super-date?” A smile tugged at my lips, because I was actually looking forward to the rest of today. And especially tonight. “Calla’s got this whole itinerary planned,” I said. “We’re going to pretend we’re tourists, go out and see the sights and eat the food and spend the whole day not being our jobs, for once.”

Abe nudged me. “And what are you spending the whole night doing?”

“Er, you know. Things,” I said as I coughed and looked away.

“Right. Those things.” He grinned. “You know, I’m actually happy for you. She seems like a good thing in your life, and you could really use more of those. I’m just wondering…”

My brow lifted. “Wondering what?”

“When you’re going to introduce her to the old man,” he said. “You know, officially.”

I sputtered a laugh. “Don’t I have to propose to her first, or something?” I said. “You’re right, though. The three of us should get together sometime. Matter of fact, I’ll ask her about it tonight.”

“Better make it early, before you take her back to your place,” he said with a wink. “I doubt you two are gonna do much talking once you get there.”

He was probably right. And after years of semi-abstinence, I planned to enjoy the hell out of every minute.

Chapter 2

I should’ve been pleasantly exhausted that night. I had a beautiful woman in my bed — hell, this was probably the first time I actually possessed a bed of my own to have a woman in. And after a full day together, we’d done an extravagant amount of what couples do in bed.

But I couldn’t even keep my eyes closed, much less fall asleep.

It was going on midnight when I peeled off the blanket and got up carefully, trying not to wake Calla. She’d ended up on the window side of the bed, and the going-on-full moon behind the drawn curtain gave just enough light to show her in profile. Her closed eyes twitched with slight movement and her lips curled up in a tiny smile, as if she were having a good dream.

I hoped she was. The things she’d been through in the past few months were enough to give anyone nightmares. She’d even been dead for a while — and that hadn’t been the worst of it. She remembered dying … and she also remembered the awful things her other self had done while she was dead. She wouldn’t talk to me about it, claimed that she was okay now. I wasn’t so sure about that.

But I wasn’t in a position to push her into talking. I kept plenty of my own secrets from her, including what really happened last month when Milus Dei shanghaied us at sea. I’d told her a version of the truth, but I left out a few big things. The biggest one being that I actually had the Scrolls of Gideon — even though I couldn’t exactly read them. Yet. Most of the stuff on them was written in strange symbols I didn’t recognize.

Calla Frost hadn’t always been on our side. In fact, she still technically worked for Milus Dei, even though she was using her position to spy on those bastards. Still, the reason I didn’t tell her about what I’d found under the ocean wasn’t exactly that I didn’t trust her.

I just couldn’t risk letting Milus Dei get their hands on the Scrolls. So if she didn’t know about it, they couldn’t torture it out of her.

When Calla didn’t stir, I crossed the bedroom to the master bath and closed the door gently before I turned the light on. Maybe a hot shower would relax me enough to get to sleep. I stretched and glanced in the mirror, somehow managing not to recoil at the eyeful of ugly that looked back. Dressed only in boxers, with my hair alternately spiked out and matted to my head, I looked like I’d come out on the losing end of a fight with a wood chipper. At least the tattoos helped to downplay some of the scarring, but nothing could hide all of it.

I still had no idea how Calla could look at this and not run from the room. Or demand a blindfold.

Shaking my head, I rolled my shoulders and padded toward the shower. I’d either manage to relax, or I’d end up refreshed and wide awake in the middle of the night, which was nothing new. But at least my hair wouldn’t look so awful.

Just as I pulled back the shower curtain, I heard a faint noise from downstairs. A series of quick beeps, familiar tones — someone had deactivated the alarm system. The one we’d installed mostly to keep Lady Tethys from waltzing in whenever she felt like it. I listened and thought I made out scraping metal, and after a minute, the click of the deadbolt on the front door. Which had to be my brain filling in sounds that were supposed to follow the alarm beeping, because I couldn’t have heard that from here. And besides, it was probably Taeral or Sadie coming back from the convenience store on the corner, or something.

Except my gut told me otherwise.

I ducked my head under the sink tap, letting the cold water shock me fully awake, then rubbed a towel over my hair and moved to grab a shirt from the bedroom. Calla stirred slightly as I pulled it on, and her eyes half-opened. “Gideon?” she murmured. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just …”

While I debated whether to share my suspicion that someone had broken into the house, there was another noise from downstairs. A dull thud.

Calla bolted upright. “What was that?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” I was already halfway to the door, trying to tell myself there could be plenty of other explanations for the sounds. The most likely one was Taeral. I wouldn’t have noticed if he’d gone out earlier, and he could be coming back drunk.

Honestly, I was hoping for the break-in. I’d rather deal with a burglar, or even a deadly enemy trying to kill us all, than my brother fully wasted. He’d fallen pretty damned hard when we came back from Tethys’s little errand, and though he’d finally managed to climb out of the bottle once more, he was still on shaky ground.

Not that I blamed him for getting drunk once in a while. But it worried Sadie. Also, he could be a little more … brusque than usual when he really got blitzed. And by brusque I meant violently angry — though he’d never hurt any of us.

The only one he ever hurt was himself.

“I’m going with you.”

Calla’s voice from right behind me made me jump. I glanced around and saw her already dressed, her gun in hand. I hadn’t even noticed her bringing the weapon into the bedroom.

“Okay, but it’s probably just Taeral,” I said as I opened the door. “So if it is, don’t shoot him. You’ll piss him off.”

She didn’t seem to think that was funny.

We headed downstairs at a fast creep. Didn’t see anyone in the front hall or the living room. The door was closed and the alarm deactivated, so I knew I hadn’t imagined the sound, and whoever it was couldn’t have gotten past us on the stairs.

Just then I heard the fridge open in the kitchen, and the faint clink of a glass bottle.

Calla and I shared a look, and I sighed and headed for the kitchen. She was already putting her gun away as she followed me. Confronting drunk Taeral was pretty much the last thing I wanted to do, right below having a sandblaster facial or taking a nice swim in boiling acid. But it was probably better for me to do it than Sadie, because she’d tear his head off. Possibly literally.

The kitchen light was off, but the refrigerator was still open. And in front of it, staring inside, was a figure who looked like he was trying to cosplay a Ghostbuster — dressed in a green canvas jumpsuit with a holstered spray nozzle attached to a backpack, and huge goggles strapped to his face. He held a bottle of beer from the fridge in one hand, and unless Taeral had managed to shrink a couple of feet, he definitely wasn’t my brother.

In fact, I had no idea who the hell he was.

I cleared my throat, and the guy whipped around fast and yanked the nozzle off the pack. He plunged the trigger and shot a stream of clear liquid across the room, hitting me right in the face with it.

“Drop the weapon!” Calla shouted.

I knew she must’ve drawn her gun, but I didn’t look at her. I was busy frantically trying to block the stream of mystery fluid, which had already gone up my nose and in my mouth. The stuff was lukewarm, and it tasted like … garlic?

“Oh, shit. Gideon?” the figure said, releasing the spray nozzle to let it clatter to the floor. Damned if that voice didn’t sound familiar. But in such a bizarre context, there was no way I could place it. “Sorry about that,” he went on as he reached up to remove the goggles. “It’s just spiked holy water. Been having a lot of trouble with vampires lately. Er … holy water doesn’t bother fairies, does it?”

I blinked, and my jaw dropped as I finally recognized his face.

“Chester?”

Chapter 3

Chester Rigby was nuts. Harmless, and an electronic and mechanical genius — which must’ve been how he got through the alarm system — but crazy in a specific way. He knew a lot more about the Others than the average human, though he had some strange ideas about them. Like, for example, he believed mermaids were nice, helpful creatures. Even though I knew from recent personal experience that they were inhuman flesh-eating predators.

He was also convinced that Milus Dei were aliens trying to infiltrate the world and create unstoppable armies to wipe us out. But hey, at least he was half right about that.

I introduced him to Calla and led the way to the living room, because I didn’t want to interrogate him standing in the kitchen and I needed a few minutes to get over the shock of finding him there. Chester helped himself to the rest of the six-pack of bottles from the fridge and carried it with him.

When I turned the light on and gestured into the room, he gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Nice digs,” he said. “Hell of a step up from your last place.”

Okay, that bothered me. “Chester, you’ve never been to the Castle … wait, have you?” I asked, suddenly worried he’d broken in there too — only I hadn’t known it. What I did know was that I’d never given him my address. The previous one, or this one.

And I probably didn’t want to know how he found out.

“The Castle. You mean that dump you stayed in before here?” he said as he crossed the room slowly and looked around before dropping into one of the easy chairs by the fireplace. “Nah, never went there. I checked it out on satellite, though. Place was falling apart. I’m glad you moved.” He emptied the first beer he’d started in the kitchen and cracked open a fresh one.

Calla and I both stared at him as he raised the bottle to his lips. He caught the looks, frowned and lowered the beer slowly. “This isn’t a normal thing to do, is it?” he said.

“Uh, no. Breaking into my house in the middle of the night and helping yourself to whatever’s in the fridge is not normal.”

“Right. I knew that.” He gave an awkward half-cough. “The thing is, I couldn’t—”

He broke off when we all heard someone thundering down the stairs. It wasn’t loud enough to be Grygg, so I hoped him and Eli were still asleep. Explaining the golem and the talking rat to Chester would not be easy.

I stepped out into the foyer in time to catch Taeral rounding the foot of the stairs with Sadie right behind him. He looked about as happy as a bear roused from hibernation, and Sadie just seemed annoyed — mostly with my brother.

“What is going on?” Taeral said, trying to look past me. “I heard shouting.”

Sadie huffed a breath. “Sorry about this, Gideon. If it’s just you and Calla —”

“It’s not.” I sighed and glanced over my shoulder. “Chester’s here.”

Taeral frowned. “Who?”

“Chester Rigby?” Sadie said at almost the same time. “That nutcase who lives out by my pack?”

“Oh. Him,” Taeral said, pulling a face. He was probably remembering the all-natural, MSG-free squirrel meat Chester fed us when we first met him. “What is he doing here?”

“I don’t know yet, but maybe we’d all better find out together,” I said. “Come on.”

They followed me into the living room, and I sat with Calla on the love seat while Sadie and Taeral took the couch. “Chester,” Sadie said warily by way of greeting, while Taeral just glared at him and grunted. “How’s … things?”

“Hey, Sadie. And Terry, right?” he said.

“Taeral,” Sadie corrected him, giving Taeral a sharp nudge when he bristled.

Chester shrugged. “Knew it was a weird name,” he said. “Anyway, I guess you could say things are interesting. Enough that I thought you should know what I found out. And, er, I was hoping for your help with something.

“It had better be important, for you to wake us at this hour,” Taeral grumbled. “And if you so much as think the word ‘aliens,’ I will gut you with that bottle in your hand. Which happens to be mine, by the way.”

Aliens? Calla mouthed at me.

I shook my head slightly. I’d have to explain Chester to her later.

Chester swallowed and set the half-empty beer carefully on the side table next to the chair, avoiding Taeral’s gaze. “Uh, yeah. Well. It is about the — Milus Dei,” he said as he turned to me. “See, I’ve been monitoring their back channels. At least the ones I can decrypt. And they’ve got something big going on, out in New Mexico. Right around Roswell.”

I held back a groan. This already sounded like one of Chester’s conspiracy theories. “Yeah, like what?” I said. “Are they getting ready to welcome the mothership?”

“You know, you’re actually pretty close.” Chester leaned forward, hands on his knees. “One of their bigshots just came in, and he’s got some kind of nasty weapon. He brought it so they could make more of whatever it is, at their facility out there.”

Calla shot him a look. “Bullshit. There is no facility in New Mexico,” she said.

“Yeah, there is.” Chester snorted. “That’s why they’re a secret society, lady. Because they have secrets. Even some that the Feds don’t know.”

“Who said I was a Fed?”

Chester smirked. “You’ve got federal agent written all over you,” he said. “Too jumpy for CIA, not stiff-necked enough for FBI, so I’m guessing you’re NSA.”

I took her hand and gave it a small squeeze, hoping she’d get my meaning and just hear him out. I knew he’d get to some kind of point eventually, but I could sense her getting agitated. What I mostly wanted to avoid was Chester finding out that she wasn’t just a Fed, that she also worked for the “aliens.”

“Look, Chester,” I said. “I’m not sure what this has to do with us. Or anything, really.”

He looked at me like I’d lost several IQ points. “I told you, they’re mass-producing a nasty weapon—”

“Milus Dei is always creating some horrific method of mass murder, or taking and torturing Others, or plotting to destroy someone or something,” Taeral interrupted with a snarl. “That is all they do. You are wasting our time, when I could be sleeping.”

“But it’s a weapon to kill fairies,” Chester said.

“Excuse me?”

Sadie grabbed his arm before he could go off on a we-are-not-fairies tangent. “Maybe you should just tell us everything you know,” she said to Chester. “Including why you want our help.”

“Yeah, okay. Here goes.” Chester blew out a breath. “Some guy that’s real high up in Milus Dei, like he works directly for the big boss, flew into Roswell this morning.”

“The big boss,” I said. “You mean Dante?”

Chester stared at me. “You know his name? How?” he said. “No one’s ever been able to find out anything about the big guy — and I mean nothing.”

“I had an inside source,” I said, keeping my tone vague. “But I don’t know anything more than a name, so … you were saying?”

“Uh, yeah.” He frowned. “So this guy came in this morning with a big load of stuff, all hush-hush. I don’t just know this from the chatter, either. A buddy of mine flies a charter plane, and they hired him to pick up the bigshot at the airport and fly him out near Basin Springs. That’s the town where my buddy lives. Runs a motel there.” Chester paused and glanced at the ceiling, like he was trying to remember something. “One of the things he’s got is a weapon called the Answerer. That’s the one he wants to make more of.”

Taeral jolted slightly. “I know this name,” he said. “But I cannot recall why it’s familiar. What is this weapon, exactly?”

“I’m not sure,” Chester admitted. “They called it something else too, but I picked that part up in a voice conversation and it didn’t make a lot of sense. Kind of a gibberish word. Give me a minute, it’ll come to me,” he added quickly when Taeral gave him a sharp look. “Anyway, the problem is my buddy picked the guy up and took off with him, but now he’s missing.”

“Your friend lost the guy on a charter plane?” I said.

Chester shook his head. “No, I mean my buddy’s missing. He hasn’t been in contact with me since he took off from Roswell, and the transponder on his plane isn’t responding.” He clenched his hands together between his knees. “I know something happened to him,” he said. “And I need your help to find him. Plus I figured if you help me with Rex, while you’re there you can take out this bigwig and get the weapon. Before they make more of them.”

I’d been considering the idea ever since Chester mentioned that a big Milus Dei player was in a known location. Hearing about the weapon and Chester’s buddy being in trouble made up my mind. “Okay. We’ll do it,” I said. “Or at least, I will.”

“What?” Calla blurted over Taeral and Sadie’s almost identical gasps of protest. “How can you possibly believe a word this guy says? No offense,” she said with a glance at Chester, “but your friend’s a few cards short of a deck. I mean, come on. You’re telling me that he hacked into Milus Dei’s network?”

I sighed. “Calla, he helped us take out the Pennsylvania site. He may be a little unorthodox, but he’s legit.”

“Really.” The look she gave me bordered on cold. “Well, then. I guess you should listen to the expert and run off to New Mexico.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d done here, but I’d definitely pissed her off. I should probably apologize for something.

If only I knew what.

“Gideon. Even if he is correct about all this, we’ve no need to involve ourselves,” Taeral said. “Milus Dei possessing weapons to use against the Fae is not a new development. After all, they managed to capture our father and hold him for years. That was no easy feat. As for Chester’s friend—”

“He needs our help, and Chester helped us,” I said quietly, though I didn’t feel like being quiet. “We owe him. And besides that …” My jaw clenched. “Look, I’m tired of sitting around and waiting for Milus Dei to do something awful, just so we can clean up the mess. For once we have the chance to stop them before they start killing. Maybe even to do some real damage to those bastards, if this guy’s as important as he sounds. And I’m taking that chance.” I looked straight at Taeral. “With or without your help, I’m taking it.”

Taeral gaped at my outburst, and then smirked and shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder which of us is the elder brother,” he said. “I suppose you are right. Do you agree, my love?”

“You know I’m always up for ripping a chunk out of Milus Dei’s ass,” Sadie grinned.

I nodded and turned to Calla. “Listen, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” she said curtly. “But if you’re going out there, I’m going with you.”

A protest rose to my lips, but I bit it back. She was already pissed at me. If I told her not to go, especially because I was worried something might happen to her, she’d probably shoot me just for the hell of it since she knew it wouldn’t kill me. And she’d go anyway.

“All right. Thank you,” I said.

She snorted. “Don’t thank me. I’m only going so I can say I told you so in person.”

Actually, I kind of hoped she got the chance to say that. But I doubted it.

“Thanks, guys. Really, thank you,” Chester said when the debate was apparently settled. “Rex is a great guy. He knows all sorts of shit, too. He should be able to help take this guy down and get — oh, damn, I almost had it. Hang on.” He held a finger out, closed his eyes and tipped his head back. After a minute, he looked at Taeral. “The other name of the weapon,” he said. “It’s, uh … Fraggle Rock. Or something like that.”

I’d never seen the color drain faster from Taeral’s features. “You cannot mean Fragarach,” he rasped.

“That’s it! Fragarach the Answerer.” Chester’s brow furrowed. “Guess you’ve heard of it, huh?”

“I have.” Taeral’s lips barely moved. He dragged a hand down his face and let out a long, shaking breath. “Do not take this the wrong way, a’ghrael, but I am going to need one of those beers.”

Sadie’s eyes widened. She gave a slow nod, and Taeral held his normal hand out. Chester took the hint and tossed him a bottle.

That was when I knew we were in more trouble than I thought. But I also knew that going out there was the right decision.

Whatever this Fragarach was, we had to get it away from Milus Dei.

Chapter 4

Taeral caught the beer, cracked the top off and drank half in one swallow. When he met my gaze, his eyes were troubled. “Fragarach is a legend,” he said. “A cold iron sword, said to be able to kill a Fae in a single blow. They say it was made by dwarves and used in the Great War, but … it has been lost for thousands of years.”

“Hold on. Dwarves are real, too?” I said. “And what Great War?”

The noise Taeral made was almost bitter. “So it is said. The Great War was between the dwarves and the Fae, fought for control of the Veil. It was before my time, before my father’s time and his father’s before him.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and he took another drink. “When the dwarves lost, despite having created Fragarach, they were driven underground. Where they apparently chose to remain. No one has seen a dwarf in centuries, and most believe they have died out.” He offered a grim smile. “But if the legends are true, then I suppose their weapons must have existed. And if Milus Dei truly possesses Fragarach, and can reproduce it …”

“We have to stop them. Right now,” I said. “Before they get to the reproducing part.”

“Aye, we do.”

“Excuse me,” Calla said abruptly, standing from the couch.

Everyone watched her walk out of the living room, and I felt a frown tugging at my lips. “Sadie, you’re a woman, right?” I said under my breath when she’d gone. “Do you have any idea what I did to piss her off?”

“Not really.” Sadie gave me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, though. Whatever it is, she’ll tell you about it eventually.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered as I stared after her, and then turned back with a sigh. “Okay, so I guess we should head out first thing in the morning,” I said. “Driving is probably out, since that’ll take days.” I stopped as a thought occurred to me. “Chester … how did you get here?”

He shrugged. “Uber.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You took an Uber here from Pennsylvania?”

“Nah,” he said. “I took eighteen Ubers. Used fake cards and burner phones. Plus I walked a few miles, here and there. Makes it harder for anyone to trace my movements.”

“Er, okay then. Guess that’s out. We’re not taking five hundred Ubers to New Mexico.”

“We could fly out, maybe,” Sadie said. “Only that might take all day, especially if there’s no direct flight. Depends on how many airports we’d have to go through. And we’d have to rent a car in Roswell to get to this town.”

I thought about that for a minute. “No, that won’t work,” I said. “We can’t take a commercial flight. Taeral doesn’t have any identification, and airport security’s a bitch. He’ll never be able to get through.”

Taeral grunted. “We can go through Arcadia,” he said. “I’ve no idea where this Roswell place is, but I am certain I can get reasonably close.”

“Yeah, and what if ‘reasonably close’ ends up being in the middle of the desert? There’s a lot of that in New Mexico. Besides, if we run into trouble over there, like we pretty much do every time—”

“What’s an Arcadia?” Chester said.

“It’s a place we’re not going.” I shook my head when Taeral opened his mouth to protest. “Too much could go wrong, and I don’t think we have a lot of time to stop this. There has to be another way.”

“There is another way.”

Calla’s voice got everyone’s attention as she walked back into the room, tucking her phone in her pocket. “We’ll have a private jet waiting for us at Fort Bennett Field in an hour,” she said. “Five hours to Roswell, where we pick up a Hummer and head to your buddy’s town. We should be there by oh-eight-hundred, give or take.”

After a brief, stunned silence, Chester blurted, “Fort Bennett’s been decommissioned as an air field for years.”

“Yes, it has. But us Feds have a few secrets, too,” she said with a crooked smile. “So are we going, or what?”

I couldn’t help grinning. “Don’t know about you guys, but all I need is about ten minutes to pack.”

Taeral and Sadie agreed.

I pretty much ordered Chester to stay in the living room, so he wouldn’t wander around the house and run into Grygg and Eli, and then headed for my room. Calla came with me. Once we were behind closed doors, she sat on the bed while I rummaged through the closet for whatever I could find. “Thank you for setting all this up,” I said, stealing a glance at her. She looked troubled. “Do you mind if I ask which set of strings you had to pull for this one?”

“Strictly NSA.” She breathed out carefully and looked at me. “Sorry I flipped out back there,” she said. “I just … I don’t know. I guess I feel kind of useless in all this.”

“What are you talking about?” I abandoned my packing and sat next to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “You just arranged everything we needed in five minutes, when it would’ve taken me all night to figure something out. Plus, you’re risking your ass every minute you keep working for Milus Dei.”

“Yeah. For all the good that’s doing.” She stared at her hands, her fingers twining restlessly. “I have so much to make up for,” she whispered. “I just feel like whatever I do, it’s never going to be enough.”

I took her hand. “Calla, listen to me,” I said, and waited until she raised her eyes. “You’re not them, okay? You are not your sister.” She opened her mouth, and I placed a finger gently against her lips. “You had no idea, and that’s their fault. Not yours. It’s what they do — they keep secrets, and they ruin lives. Every life they touch, including humans.”

She shuddered against me. Her sister had worked for Milus Dei too, as a scientist at the Manhattan cite. Calla had been told that her sister was doing groundbreaking research, the kind of thing that was supposed to lead to curing cancer and other great leaps for humanity. And maybe that was partially true. But she’d also been part of the team responsible for holding and torturing Daoin, along with countless Others they’d been experimenting on.

And I knew Calla felt responsible for all of it, because she’d signed up to join Milus Dei for the paycheck. They never told her about their extracurricular activities and she never tried to find out. But really, what person in their right mind would think that the ‘unclassified branch’ they worked for actually was involved in hunting down creatures that weren’t supposed to exist? There’d been no way for her to even begin guessing that.

“You couldn’t have done anything about it,” I eventually said to her. “Not alone. They would’ve killed you. But now, together, we can do something. And we’re going to, okay? We will stop them. Permanently.”

Her shoulders drooped slightly. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured, and then straightened and flashed a smile. “Hurry up. We don’t want to miss our flight.”

“I’m on it.” Giving her a quick one-armed hug, I went back to the closet, found a duffel bag, and tossed anything and everything that might be remotely useful into it. Despite the whole Fae-killing sword thing, I felt pretty good about our chances. After all, we’d gone up against Milus Dei plenty of times and come out ahead — and this time, we had the advantage. They had no idea we were coming.

With a little luck, this so-called bigshot would never know what hit him.

Chapter 5

Things went smoothly for once. Probably because I didn’t have anything to do with planning them. The plane was waiting when and where Calla said it would be, with a pilot and co-pilot, neither of whom even looked twice at us, much less asked for ID. And even though only Calla had been on a private jet before, we all slept through most of the flight.

I’d even remembered to call Abe before we got in the air and tell him we’d be out of town for a few days. He got worried when I disappeared, especially when I ended up calling him from the middle of some unplanned fight against evil — a thing that happened to me way more often than you’d expect.

We’d reached Roswell just before eight, like Calla said we would. Now we were crammed inside a black Hummer with ‘third-row seating’ that was actually a single seat shoehorned in the back, on the road to Basin Springs. Chester had taken the back seat next to a big metal footlocker that Calla told him not to touch, even though I was sure he would, with Taeral and Sadie on the three-seat row in front of him. I had the passenger seat, and Calla drove the monster of a truck.

Once we’d cleared Roswell, heading southwest, the sparsely green and populated surroundings had given way to nothing but flat sand and rocks, with a faint purple-blue smudge on the far horizon suggesting mountains in the distance.

We were about half an hour into what the GPS said was a fifty-minute drive when there was a series of faint clicks from the back. A moment later, Chester blurted, “Holy hell, woman! Does the NSA always bring an entire goddamned armory to take down one guy?”

“It’s a standard issue weapons requisition,” Calla said without so much as glancing away from the road. “Besides, guns are like Pringles. Nobody can take just one.”

“I like you,” Chester announced. “Hey, if things don’t work out between you and the boss there—”

“Don’t even think about it,” I mock-threatened as I turned to look back at him. “And why are you calling me the boss? I’m not in charge of anything.”

Chester shrugged and didn’t answer the question. Instead, he held up a dull gray handgun with a long grip mounted further up the body than most, and a nozzle like a machine gun. “Your woman’s got good taste in weapons,” he said. “Micro Uzi .45, custom grip. There’s half a dozen of these things in here. And it looks like, what, thirty grenades, some assault rifles, a couple of—”

“Put the gun down and close the damned locker,” Calla snapped. “Now.”

There was a lot more urgency in her voice than there should’ve been. I turned toward her, about to ask what was wrong, but then I saw for myself. There was a barricade across the road, about half a mile ahead of us. Two big Army-green trucks and a handful of guys in camouflage with rifles slung across their backs.

“Please tell me that’s not the actual Army,” Sadie said as we neared the barricade.

Calla took something out of her pocket and dropped it into the console between us. It was a small black bi-fold, probably containing her badge. “Unfortunately, I think it is,” she said with her gaze intent on the armed men.

“Why the hell would the Army be here?” I said.

“No idea.”

“It’s them,” Chester breathed. “The ali—”

“You’d best keep your mouth closed, unless you want me to close it for you,” Taeral ground out.

Chester closed his mouth.

“Let me handle this,” Calla said, slowing as the barricade loomed and one of the soldiers approached with a hand held palm-out. She stopped and hit the window button, then grabbed the bi-fold and flipped it open. “What’s going on here, Corporal?” she said without giving the soldier a chance to speak when he reached us, flashing her shield at him.

The stone-faced man outside actually blinked in surprise before he flipped a blank shutter across his expression. “We weren’t told the NSA was involved in this, ma’am,” he said as he gave me a bare glance, and then his gaze roamed the back seats briefly before returning to Calla. “Sorry, but you’ll have to turn around. Road’s closed. We’ve got a toxic spill out here that has to be contained.”

Toxic spill? That was a bullshit cover-up if I ever heard one, and I didn’t even have to be as paranoid as Chester to know that. From the look that flashed in Calla’s eyes, I knew she was thinking the same thing.

“Stand down, Corporal,” Calla said. “I have authorization to be here.”

“With civilians? Look, there’s a press blackout in effect, so I can’t let you—”

“How much do you want to bet my clearance code is higher than yours?” Calla spoke in clipped, cold tones. “Now, you can either let me through, or you can call your CO and find yourself demoted to private faster than you can say ‘court-martial.’ Got it?”

The soldier’s jaw clenched visibly. He looked past her at me again — and this time he did a quick, almost imperceptible double-take and immediately turned his head toward the barrier. “You’ll have to give me a minute. Hang tight, okay?” he said, and started toward the other soldiers, one hand plucking a CB unit from his belt.

“I don’t like this,” I said under my breath as the corporal stopped in front of one of the other soldiers and said something. The soldier he’d spoken to wore mirrored sunglasses, but his head turned toward the Hummer while the corporal spoke into the walkie. “First of all, a toxic spill? Come on. And did you see the way he looked at me?”

A frown tugged at the corner of Calla’s mouth. “I thought I saw something, but … let’s just get into town, and then we’ll figure out what’s going on here.”

“How, exactly, did he look at you?” Taeral said. “I can see nothing through these so-called windows.”

“This is going to sound crazy, but …” I sighed and shook my head. “He looked like he recognized me.”

I watched the corporal replace his radio, and then start directing the rest of them with a series of hand gestures. A chugging diesel engine roared to life and one of the trucks started to back up and swing off the road. Apparently, they were going to let us through.

And I wasn’t sure that was such a good thing anymore.

“Maybe we should turn around, find another way in,” I said uncertainly, aware I sounded just as paranoid as Chester. I was probably reading way too much into that half-a-second glance from the soldier.

“I’d agree, if this wasn’t the only road into town,” Chester said. “But … hey, can’t you guys fly or something? I mean, you are—”

“Shut it. He’s coming back,” Calla hissed.

The corporal returned to the window. This time he deliberately avoided looking at me. “You can go on through, ma’am,” he said. “Sorry for the delay.”

Calla nodded. “Thanks,” she said, and then immediately hit the window switch to close it before she put the Hummer in gear and rolled forward. “You’re right. Something’s off,” she said in a low voice as we drove slowly between the canvas-backed trucks. Every soldier’s head turned to follow our progress. “Listen, once we get past the barricade, you’d better start passing out those weapons.”

“I’m on it,” Chester said instantly.

An uneasy lump settled in my gut once we drove between the trucks and started picking up speed. “You really think we’re going to need guns, right now?”

Calla’s mouth flattened. “I’m just saying it won’t hurt to be prepared for … whatever.”

“Gideon, do you really think that guy recognized you back there?” Sadie said, leaning forward to hand me one of the strange guns Chester said was a micro Uzi. “Did you know him or something?”

I tucked the gun behind my back, against the seat. “Nope. Pretty sure I don’t know anybody in the Army,” I said. “He wasn’t familiar. I just felt like … I don’t know, maybe I’m imagining things.”

At least, I hoped I was. Because I couldn’t imagine any good reason for a soldier to recognize me — especially if there really was a Milus Dei base out here.

Chapter 6

There was absolutely nothing on the five-mile stretch of road from the barricade to Basin Springs. No other vehicles, no movement at all — no wind, no dust clouds, no birds in the sky or snakes in the sagebrush dotting the sands that lined either side of the road. And definitely no sign of a chemical spill or any other disaster that would require the Army.

Soon the town came into view ahead, a sprawl of pale buildings with variously colored tile roofs spreading to either side of the main road. A heat shimmer hung in the air above the place, blurring the horizon where the distant mountains loomed. We passed a weather-beaten, sun-bleached wooden sign about a quarter-mile out from the first of the buildings that read Welcome to Basin Springs, The Town at the Edge of Forever! Two more lines beneath the welcome proclaimed Est. 1918 and Population: 497.

Calla slowed to thirty as we entered Basin Springs, and I shivered inwardly. There was no bullshit chemical spill, but something was still very wrong in this town.

“Does anyone else smell that?” Sadie said in an oddly thick voice behind me. “Blood. A lot of it, and … something else.”

I was about to crack a joke, remind her that she was the only werewolf in this car, when someone screamed. I looked around fast and glanced at Calla, then the rest of them, but it didn’t seem like they’d heard it.

Just as I realized the sound had been inside my head, the scream was joined by about half a fuckton more of them.

“Pull over!” I gasped through the agony exploding in my brain. I had no idea whether I’d spoken loud enough over the noise only I could hear. I clapped my hands to my ears, even though I knew damned well that wouldn’t do a thing to stop it. Blood was already pouring from my nose. Usually I initiated contact with the dead, but they could speak to me if I was close enough and they had something to say.

Apparently, several hundred dead people suddenly wanted to be heard.

The Hummer lurched to a halt, and I scrambled for the door handle, popped it open and practically fell out onto the street. “Please, stop,” I groaned, trying to get to my feet. But there was no way any of them could hear me over themselves. I sensed rather than heard more car doors opening, and then someone coming toward me. Arms lifted me up. They were probably trying to ask what the hell was going on, but I couldn’t hear, couldn’t answer. I had to make the screams stop.

There was a spell I’d used once before. At the time there’d only been one dead voice to silence, so I’d just have to hope like hell it would work on this many.

It took me long seconds to think straight enough to come up with the word. Finally, I grabbed it from my overloaded brain and called, “Ruaigh!” with as much force as I could muster, just as the first trickles of blood started to run from my ears.

There was a massive pop in my head that I felt all the way to my toes, and then silence.

“Gideon!” That was Taeral’s voice. At least it was outside my head, but it sounded like he was shouting through a ski mask. Everything seemed muffled, and my vision was tinged with pink. “What is happening? Damn it, say something!”

“I’m okay,” I managed, trying to blink away whatever was in my eyes. They finally started to water and clear, and I swiped a finger at the corner of one. It came back red. All those souls in my head had made my eyes bleed, too. It hadn’t been this bad in a long time. “Well, I’ll be okay in a minute or five,” I said.

Taeral stood in front of me with an expression that said I was not okay and he knew it. Sadie was next to him, and the arm around me was Calla’s. Chester hung back, staring at us like he was trying to decide whether to help or get as far away as possible from Randomly Bleeding Man.

“What happened?” Taeral said again, with only a little less urgency. “And do not bother trying to tell me it was nothing.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure, exactly. They were … screaming.”

“Who?” Calla said. “Who was screaming?”

“The dead. Hundreds of them.” I closed my eyes, and a hard shudder worked through me. “There’s a whole lot of dead people around here somewhere, and they’re terrified. Something awful happened. And it damned well wasn’t a chemical spill.”

“The blood,” Sadie whispered. “There’s so much of it in the air. And it’s so quiet here.” She looked at Taeral, and then back to me. “That sign said there’s only about five hundred people here. You don’t think …?”

I knew instantly what she wasn’t asking. There was no way to tell exactly how many voices had screamed in my head, but a small, horrified part of me knew it had to be close to that number. And I really didn’t want to think much more about what that meant. “I couldn’t tell for sure,” I said. “But it was a lot.”

“Listen, we should really get to my buddy’s place.” Chester strode toward us, concern twisting his features. “Whatever happened here, he’ll know about it, and he’s got a shitload of security. Don’t know about you guys, but I got a feeling we really shouldn’t be standing around out here in the open.”

Calla’s arm tightened around me. “He’s right,” she said grimly. “We should go.”

I’d half expected her to make a crack about Chester’s paranoia. But whatever this was, we were all feeling it.

Everyone climbed back into the Hummer, and Calla kicked the engine over and rolled down the main street, her phone chiming occasionally from the dashboard as the GPS flashed directions to the address she’d entered into it. Apart from us, absolutely nothing in this town stirred. No vehicles, no people, not even a twitch from behind any of the closed blinds or curtains. Every door was shut, every house and building silently still.

Taeral reached up between the front seats and gripped my shoulder. “Are you all right, brother?” he said in low tones.

“Yeah, I am now.” I nodded and turned toward him, meeting his concerned gaze. “Really. No more voices.”

“And you’ve no need to heal,” he said.

“Already doing it.” Healing myself was becoming almost a reflex, like glamour — at least, when I had enough power to heal. “Honestly, it’s not like this has never happened before.”

“Aye, it has. But never with so many,” Taeral said. “I am concerned that it may have affected you in ways you are not aware of yet.”

“You and me both,” I murmured. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll let you know if anything weird happens.”

Taeral smirked. “You mean other than bleeding from your eyes?”

“Yeah, besides that.”

“There it is,” Calla said as she came around a corner and slowed. “Can’t be more than one — holy shit, what the hell happened here?” she finished with a gasp.

My heart lurched as I saw what she meant. The hotel was less than a block ahead, on the left side of the road. And unlike the rest of the silent but untouched structures in this town, the place was thoroughly trashed.

The vertical neon-tube sign reading MOTEL staked by the curb was half pulled from the ground, leaning over bright shards of broken glass where several of the letters had been broken. A wooden front door hung crookedly away from the entrance with the top hinge ripped out. One of the large windows that flanked the door had been smashed to shards, and the other bore spider-webbed cracks across most of the surface. There were holes blown in the roof, and shattered clay tiles littered the sparse lawn.

“Do me a favor and pull into that alley,” I said, pointing just past the hotel to the space between it and the next building. It was pure instinct, but something told me that leaving a vehicle on the street was a bad idea right now.

Calla nodded and rolled past the ruined motel, her hands clenched tight on the wheel as she turned and bumped over the curb into the alley.

“Damn it, what did those bastards do to this place?” Chester nearly shouted. He was already trying to get the back hatch open before the Hummer stopped. “If anything happened to Rex, I swear to God I’ll gun down every one of those fake Army assholes back there. I knew they weren’t really —”

“Chester, calm down,” I said sharply. When he glared at me, I said, “Look, some of them might still be in there. If they are, do you really want to let them know we’re coming?”

He relaxed a little. “Yeah, all right. Guess it’s better to sneak up on them.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Don’t worry, we’ll find your buddy.”

I hated the fact that I was probably lying about that. Much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was almost positive there was no one left to find in this town. But it wouldn’t hurt to check.

The five of us filed out, and Chester suggested that we split up, since he knew how to get into the back entrance. Sadie and Calla went around back with him, while Taeral and I headed for the front.

“Do you actually think the Army is in there?” Taeral half-whispered as we approached the battered door.

“Probably not. We would’ve seen more trucks and barricades if they were occupying the town,” I said, not without a measure of doubt. If there were soldiers around, they could be on foot. Hell, every single building in Basin Springs could be stuffed with soldiers, or whoever those people were, and I wouldn’t know.

But I guessed I was about to find out.

Taeral lifted the door away from the entrance, and I slipped inside with him right behind me. The lobby was small and apparently empty, the floor liberally strewn with broken glass and wood splinters and debris. There was a small seating area with a couch, a handful of chairs and a silent black television to the left, a large card table with folding chairs to the right, and a reception desk complete with old-fashioned bell straight ahead. Several single keys with large, numbered fobs hung on a pegboard behind the desk, and an empty stool sat behind a cash register.

“Looks like the power’s out,” I said under my breath as I moved slowly across the room. Glass crunched beneath my feet. “I didn’t want to say anything to Chester, but I don’t think his buddy’s okay.”

“Nor do I,” Taeral murmured. He started to the right, toward the card table and the two doors beyond it, one marked Ladies while the other read Germs. “There is no one here,” he said. “Not in this building. Not in this entire town.”

I knew he was right, but I still didn’t want to agree — at least, not out loud. Not yet. I refused to believe that for whatever reason, everyone in Basin Springs was dead.

Even though the screams I’d heard told me otherwise.

“Maybe they were telling the truth,” I said, slowly rounding the silent reception counter to walk behind it. “The Army, I mean. Maybe it was a chemical spill, or it could’ve been toxic gas, or …”

Something creaked behind me, and a rasping, unfamiliar voice said, “Hands up and turn around. Right now, or I’ll shoot you both.”

I decided to look first and throw spells second, so I turned around.

And for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I found myself at the wrong end of a weapon.

Chapter 7

At least there was no way this guy was Army. He wore digital desert fatigues and combat boots, but it was hard to tell through the caked-on filth that covered him head to toe. His pants were torn in several places, and there was a blood-soaked rag tied around his upper left arm. He had drying mud smeared all over his burnt, peeling face, and the one washed-out blue eye peering at me was narrowed and bloodshot. A stained, makeshift eye patch that looked like the same material as the bandage on his arm covered the other one.

He was also threatening us with a pair of kitchen knives. Probably why Taeral hadn’t bothered blasting him yet.

The guy took a step toward me and flicked a glance back at Taeral, holding a practically useless knife out in each extended arm. “Couldn’t catch me out there, so you decided to trash my place? Not smart. That’s how I got the drop on you, because I knew you’d be back,” he said. “Your buddies in the jeep are buzzard meat, you know. And you’re next on the buffet line.”

“Whoa, hold on.” I held my hands up and suppressed an incredulous grin. Maybe something had gone right today after all. “You’re Rex?”

He bared his teeth at me. “How the hell do you know that?”

“Take it easy. We’re out here with Chester, looking for you. I think.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “With his arm, and your face? If you’re not one of them, then you’re aliens and probably working with ’em. You read my mind to get that name out, alien?”

I sighed. This was definitely Chester’s buddy — and exactly what was wrong with my face, anyway? I decided I didn’t want to know the answer to that question at the moment. “Look, we’re not aliens,” I told him. “Chester’s here with us. He came in through the back, so he’ll probably be up here any second.”

The guy I assumed was Rex hesitated. “Fine. If you’re Chester’s friend, tell me why he missed the third Roswell landing back in ’91.”

“I don’t know,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. “Because there was a bumper crop of squirrels that year, and he was running low on jerky?”

“Because I was freezing my balls off in that miserable desert with you, asshole.”

At the sound of Chester’s voice, Rex whirled around and pointed both knives in his direction. “That really you, Iceman?”

“Coldest bitch in the box.” Chester grinned from the doorway at the back of the lobby, with Calla and Sadie right behind him. “I knew they’d never take you out. Now put those pig-stickers down, before you hurt somebody. They’re with me.”

Rex blew out a breath and made the knives disappear somewhere in the filthy rags he wore. Chester was already striding toward him, and he moved away from me to meet the other man at the end of the counter in a back-slapping bro hug. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch, coming all the way out here,” Rex said when he stepped back. “But I’m damned glad you did. We have to stop them this time.”

“What happened to you, man?” Chester frowned as his gaze settled on the bloody makeshift bandage. “You look like —”

“Quiet,” Rex hissed sharply, holding a hand out. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “You hear that? They’re coming back.”

Chester arched an eyebrow. “Hear what?”

“Helicopters. Two of them, coming this way,” Sadie said as she moved toward Taeral. “They’ll see us if we try to drive out of here.”

Rex stared at her. “Never met anybody with sharper ears than mine, except for werewolves,” he said. “You a werewolf, girl?”

Sadie shrugged. “Yeah. And?”

He swallowed with a dry click. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Iceman,” he said as he approached the wood panel wall behind the counter. “We’ll head for the bunker until they’re gone. I gotta clean up, anyway.”

Before anyone could ask what bunker, Rex touched the wall and part of it swung smoothly open onto perfect blackness. He reached inside, pushed something, and dull red light flickered through the space, illuminating a set of concrete stairs leading down. “Haven’t had time to get down there yet, but everything should still be intact,” he said. “You all go first. I’m right behind you.”

Calla came over to me and waited while Sadie and Taeral headed down. Her face was a careful blank. “Gideon, do you really think whatever happened here …” she half-whispered. “I mean, everyone?”

I took her hand, hoping it was at least a little reassuring. “I don’t know,” I said. It was the truth — I only had a strong suspicion that the entire town was dead. “Let’s just find out what Rex knows, and we’ll take it from there, okay?”

She nodded, and we went after Taeral into the red darkness.

Chapter 8

Rex’s bunker probably would’ve given whatever secret lair the government had set up for the end of the world a run for its money. The huge, steel-walled underground space had a big central room that was a combination living room and kitchen, two bedrooms with bunk beds, a full bathroom, and a back room bigger than the central room stuffed with supplies, provisions, and weapons a lot more dangerous than a couple of kitchen knives. There was a generator running somewhere down here too, because the power was on.

After a few hasty introductions, Chester’s friend had given us the fifty-cent tour and vanished into the bathroom. We’d all heard the helicopters by the time he closed the door at the top of the stairs, so there was no question that the Army, or whoever, was still out there. By now I was convinced that ‘whoever’ was Milus Dei, and the soldiers manning the barrier worked for them inside the Army, like Calla with the NSA.

Still, with as much as I knew about the organization that had been hunting me since birth, I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that they’d wipe out an entire town. At least, not one full of humans. Milus Dei liked to pretend that their so-called mission to eliminate every Other on the planet was a humanitarian effort. Some of them actually believed they were saving the world. And some of them were just sadistic, power-hungry bastards.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure which type was more dangerous.

It wasn’t long before Rex came out of the bathroom, cleaned and dressed in a fresh set of fatigues. The skin on his face and hands looked worse without the mud. It was all nasty red, peeling and blistered with severe sunburn, especially on his scalp beneath the high-and-tight he sported. He’d taken off the grubby eye patch — but the eye beneath it was normal, the same faded blue as the other one.

“What the hell, Rex? You been out tanning in an oven?” Chester blurted. “Seriously, you look like shit.”

“And what was up with the eye patch?” Calla said.

“Oh, that. It was for night vision. Did you know that’s why pirates wore eye patches? So they’d have the advantage when they attacked in the dark.” Rex headed for the kitchen area, opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “Anyway, I’d just gotten back here not fifteen minutes before you all busted into my place. Had to hoof it across thirty miles of desert, and then I find my motel trashed and a couple of strangers in my lobby. Sorry about almost killing you, by the way.”

Taeral snorted. “You were nowhere close to killing us.”

“Hold on. What’s this thirty miles of desert shit?” Chester said. “You’d better start from the beginning.”

“Okay, sure.” Rex shrugged, twisted the top off the water bottle and drank deeply. “So yesterday morning I pick up this big hotshot at the airport in Roswell, a guy called Yusef. Didn’t give a last name. Tall guy, dressed in robes or some shit like he’s straight out of the Bible, and he’s cold as ice. Doesn’t say two words to me the whole flight, except when we’re ready to land.” He shook his head and took another slug of water. “He has me touch down in the middle of nowhere by a mountain. Nothing and nobody around.”

“That’s the guy from Milus Dei,” I said. “You dropped him off in the middle of the desert?”

Rex leaned back with his elbows propped on the island kitchen counter and looked at me. “What do you know about Milus Dei?”

“We know enough to be certain they are not aliens,” Taeral said. “Merely humans, with far too much power.”

“Yeah, maybe. But the things they deal with, they aren’t human.” Rex pointed at him. “Things like you, Unseelie, and your girlfriend the werewolf there. Though I haven’t quite gotten the hang of picking them out yet. Iceman’s the werewolf expert.”

Taeral’s jaw flexed. “How do you know what I am?”

“I’ve been around. Seen a lot,” he said calmly. “F’rinstance, I know this lady’s a Fed, and she’s with you.” His gaze met mine again. “But I have to admit, I’m not sure what you are. Gideon, isn’t it?” A corner of his mouth twitched up. “First I thought Fae, but that’s not the whole story. You’re something else.”

I was cautiously impressed. “I’m half Fae. Taeral’s my brother,” I said, not ready to launch into the DeathSpeaker explanation just yet. “And what we know about Milus Dei is a lot, but nowhere near enough, if that makes sense. By the way … what’s wrong with my face?”

Calla gave me a puzzled glance. She must not have heard Rex’s comment about why Taeral and I had to be aliens.

“You just have a lot of hard road in your eyes, kid. More than you should have at your age.” Rex nodded absently, as if he’d come to a decision he wasn’t going to share with the rest of us. “Anyway, back to my story,” he said. “So I land the plane, and there’s nobody and nowhere to take all this Yusef guy’s crap. Crates and crates of stuff. I offer to help unload, he says no, and then he hands me this burlap hood he just happened to have and tells me to put it on.”

Chester gave a low whistle. “Bastard was going to kill you. Keep you from talking.”

“You know it,” Rex said. “Me, I wasn’t about to wait around and get executed. So I play along until the guy gets out of the plane, then I slip out the other door and high-tail it in the opposite direction, across the desert. He’s not paying attention to me — and I happen to look back and see why.” He put the nearly empty water bottle on the counter and crossed his arms. “What I see is the whole damn mountain opening up, and a fucking fleet of armed assholes in Jeeps driving out.”

“Well, shit,” Chester drawled. “No wonder we could never find the New Mexico site on satellite. Those sons of bitches are holed up inside a mountain.”

“Yup. They’re dug in like hookworms in a pile of turds.” Rex let out a slow breath. “Of course, they noticed I was gone and sent some muscle after me. Three guys, one land crawler, like that would be enough,” he said with a snort. “I did have to blow up the jeep, though. That’s why I ended up taking the two-foot express home, ducking those damned choppers the whole way. And I had a close call about five miles outside of town.” He paused and stared into the distance for a moment. “They were out there with heavy machinery, burying something big,” he said. “Something … wet.”

My throat seized shut so suddenly that for a few seconds, I couldn’t breathe. The remembered echoes of all those screams rebounded through my skull. I knew exactly what they were burying out there in the desert.

The entire population of Basin Springs, minus one hardened survival nut.

“My God,” Sadie rasped as she looked at my face, and knew. “They didn’t.”

I couldn’t summon a response. Taeral and Calla caught on fast too — they both blanched, and tears welled in Calla’s eyes.

But it was Chester who finally said it out loud. “They killed everyone, didn’t they?” he said in cracked tones, looking from Rex to me with dawning horror. “That’s why it’s so damned quiet here. They slaughtered the whole town.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty sure they did.”

Rex was silent for a full minute. When he eventually spoke, his eyes glinted with fury and his tone was pure steel. “Then I guess there’s nothing left for me to do but return the favor,” he said. “I know where those sick fucks are, and I’m going to take out every last one of them.”

“Not alone, you aren’t,” Chester said firmly, as if he suspected Rex would disagree. “We’re taking them out. Right, boss?”

Damn it, he’d called me boss again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in charge of this particular mission — but if somebody had to, I’d do it. No way I was going to let Milus Dei get away with a full-on massacre.

“Right,” I finally said. “Every last one of them.”

And that included Yusef the bigshot. I hadn’t come out here planning to kill him. I’d planned to neutralize this place, get the weapon away from him, maybe find out more about Dante if I could. But my plans had officially changed.

Besides, I could get more information out of him dead than alive.

Chapter 9

After a lot of spirited debate, we decided to drive the Hummer out into the desert — at least as far as we could make it before we were spotted. Chester and Rex were both opposed to the idea, and for some reason Calla was leaning toward their side. I guessed it was because we had no idea what kind of weapons those helicopters were packing. But if we came under fire from the air, Taeral and I could protect everyone. And we’d agreed that if they came after the Hummer, we would ditch it and keep going on foot.

I hoped to make some serious driving miles before that happened. Couldn’t count the number of times I’d been dragged across one desert or another by my former family, and though I knew how to survive a trip like that, I sure as hell didn’t want to.

Besides, I wanted to get to the burial site as soon as possible. I had to know for sure.

Rex had said that he only got by them because when he saw the excavators and the bulldozers, they were wrapping things up and heading back toward the mountains. He’d just out-waited them. Now that they were hopefully gone, we should be safe to stop for a few minutes and try to figure out what they’d done.

“They’re saying on the news that Basin Springs was evacuated because of this bullshit toxic spill they cooked up,” Chester said, his voice thick with contempt as he hunched over his phone. He and Rex had taken the middle seat with Sadie so that Rex could navigate, while Taeral had ungraciously agreed to squeeze his lanky ass in the back. “Who’s going to buy that, when none of these people’s families ever hear from them again?”

“They’ll buy it for long enough.” Rex, who’d let me heal him after I promised he wouldn’t get any urges to start dancing naked in the moonlight, kind of looked like Clint Eastwood under the sunburn. “Besides, most of their families are right here with them. At least … they were, anyway.” The angry light flashed in his eyes again, and he pointed at the windshield. “It’s right up ahead there. You see that arroyo? That’s where I waited ’em out, and they were digging to the left of it.”

Calla, who was still driving, squinted ahead. “What the hell’s an arroyo?”

“It’s a dry creek bed. Basically a big ditch,” I told her. “Just pull up next to it on this side.”

As she nodded and started slowing down, Rex regarded me with a slightly raised eyebrow. “So, kid. D’you just know a lot of words, or do you have some experience in terrain like this?”

“I’ve been in a few deserts,” I muttered, not paying much attention to him. This close to them, the voices of the dead were back. The same chorus of screams I’d heard before, but muted and distant, like a malevolent ocean. “I need to get out,” I said as Calla stopped the Hummer and threw it in park. “Find out what happened to these people.”

“What are you gonna do, dig ’em up?” Rex said. “We don’t have time for that.”

I was already halfway out the door. “Not exactly,” I said. “I’m just going to ask them.”

He didn’t have much of a response to that.

Everyone piled out after me as I headed for the arroyo, looking around while I walked. The ditch was a fairly big one, probably six feet across and at least as deep. And the ground on the other side showed only slight signs of disturbance. The scant evidence that it was actually a mass grave would vanish after a few windy nights out here. Those bastards had covered their tracks well.

A sudden thought froze me in place. Tracks. We’d already covered five miles of ground, and I hadn’t seen a single sign of human activity, even though a whole lot of people had come through here recently. But I suspected our passage was leaving plenty of evidence.

“Gideon, what’s wrong?” Calla caught up to me fast, concern etched into her face. “Is it the … voices?”

I shook my head. “Tracks,” I said, pivoting toward the Hummer. Sure enough, twin lines of what were unmistakably tire treads trailed back from the wheels across the sands as far as the eye could see, no doubt all the way from here to Basin Springs. “We’re making it way too easy for them to find us.”

“Damn. The kid’s right,” Rex said as everyone stopped to look back at the tire marks. “Okay, Iceman and me’ll go grab some sagebrush and sweep this out. Once we get —”

“All the way back to the town? Nonsense.” Taeral rolled his eyes and strode toward the Hummer. “I will handle this.”

Both Rex and Chester watched him warily. “What’s he doing?” Chester said.

“Handling it.” I wasn’t sure exactly what he was planning, but I knew Taeral could do some interesting things with dirt. I’d seen him shift enough earth to dig out graves and tunnel under fences in seconds.

He stopped and knelt beside the tracks, then reached out with his metal arm and placed his palm on the ground between the tread marks. The runes etched into the metal shimmered and glowed blue, and a pulse of light raced off down the center of the tracks toward Basin Springs. The sand surged and parted behind the light like the wake of a speedboat, washing waves of loose dirt over the tire treads.

After holding his position for a few minutes, Taeral pushed up and headed for us, brushing the sand off his pants. “Come on, then,” he said. “We should not linger here for long.”

Rex watched him for a few seconds with wide eyes, and then shook himself and scowled. “Using magic is cheating, Unseelie,” he said. “What are you gonna do if it runs out? And besides, we’re just going to leave more tracks when we drive away. I told you we should be going on foot.”

“I will not ‘run out’ of magic, human,” Taeral shot back. “Just as you apparently will not run out of madness. You and your friend seem to have endless wells of that.”

“All right, gentlemen. Let’s just finish this so we can get out of here,” I said.

Rex grunted. “Finish what, exactly? I’m pretty sure you said you were gonna ask the dead people what happened to them. And your brother thinks I’m crazy.”

“Er. Actually, he can do it,” Chester said. “Talk to dead people, I mean.”

Rex flashed him a look. “Yeah, right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I had a few misgivings myself. Mostly because I had no idea how I was going to get through to almost five hundred panicked souls, if they just kept on screaming the way they were. But I had to try.

We crossed the arroyo, and I could hear them even stronger on the other side. Now it sounded like a party gone bad in an apartment building, if I was three or four floors away. At least the sound wasn’t physically in my head. Still, I knew no one else could hear them.

“Maybe we should just go,” Calla said, catching up to me as I stood at the edge of the slightly disturbed, distressingly large patch of ground, where dark, damp stains that had no business being in a desert seeped through the dirt. “I mean … we know they’re dead.” Her voice caught on the last few words. “Do we really have to find out anything more? And we’re too exposed out here, anyway.”

She was probably right. Still, I couldn’t leave all these people like this. They were dead, but they sure as hell weren’t at peace. There had to be something I could do for them.

I had no idea what, but I planned to try anyway.

“I have to do this,” I said as I knelt at what was probably the edge of the pit. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be fast.”

Calla folded her arms. “What exactly do you have to do?”

“I wish I knew,” I muttered, and pressed a hand against the ground.

The screams flooded me instantly, agonizing and deafening. But it only lasted for a few seconds before I blacked out.

Chapter 10

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been unconscious, but I didn’t expect to come back to nothing but green fog all around me. This wasn’t the desert. It was the Mists. The roving emerald fog bank, a place you could step into and become lost forever, usually stuck to Arcadia. But not always. I’d been swallowed by it once before — in Louisiana, when I went to help the Duchenes fight a god.

Kelwyyn, the DeathSpeaker before me, was in here somewhere.

“Well met, DeathSpeaker,” a familiar voice said from the mist. I couldn’t tell which direction it came from. “What brings you here?”

Those words were a shock, galvanizing me to my feet. I thought he’d brought me here, like the last time. But he sounded surprised to see me, and I didn’t think that was good news. What if I couldn’t get back out? The Mists swallowed everyone and everything it came into contact with. No one had ever escaped except the DeathSpeaker — namely, me — and even that wasn’t guaranteed.

He hadn’t been positive, but Kelwyyn thought if I stayed too long in the Mists, I’d become part of them. Like he was.

Kelwyyn’s figure formed in front of me. A tall Fae without glamour, pale purple skin and pointed ears, with brown hair in a long braid to the waist of his tunic. He was also translucent, like a ghost. I could see the swirls of the Mists through him, dark shifting shadows rippling across his body.

“I didn’t come here on purpose. I just … passed out. And this is where I woke up,” I finally said. “Am I really here? I mean, I could be —”

“Dreaming? No, I’m afraid you are truly with me,” Kelwyyn said with a chuckle. “But ‘here’ is relative in the Mists, my young friend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, and then drew a startled breath as I remembered why Kelwyyn was here. He’d wanted to die, but the Fae were physically unable to kill themselves. So he’d walked into the Mists and become whatever he was here. Not dead … but not exactly alive, either. “Er. Am I dead?”

Kelwyyn gave a slanted smile. “You do not seem dead. Did you wish to be?”

“No. Definitely not,” I said. “I was right in the middle of something, and then I was here.”

“Well, I do hope you were not in the middle of dying.”

“Yeah, me too.” At least I couldn’t hear the screams anymore. But whatever was happening to me, the rest of my friends were still exposed out in the New Mexico desert with Milus Dei looking for them. For us. “Listen, Kelwyyn, it’s nice to see you and all,” I said. “But I can’t exactly stick around for a chat right now. Any chance you could tell me how to get back to where I was?”

Kelwyyn’s brow went up. “Perhaps I could, if you tell me how you’ve arrived here in the first place.”

“I said I don’t know! Damn it, I don’t have time for this,” I spat, starting to pace in front of him. Everything around me was roiling green smoke, just like the last time, but maybe there was a door or a portal or something I hadn’t noticed before. There had to be a way out. “I have to get back. People are hunting us, and my friends are in trouble. You know, like always,” I added bitterly.

“Gideon.” Kelwyyn spoke firmly and laid a hand on my arm. That was when I noticed that like him, I was semi-transparent. I’d definitely been solid the last time I was dragged into the Mists. And somehow, I understood why.

Not all of me was here. Just my soul.

“Tell me what’s happened,” he said. “With context, perhaps we can determine how you have come here.”

I drew a long, deep breath. “Okay. I think I figured out part of it, anyway,” I said on an exhale. “I’m not really here — at least, my body isn’t. Have I got that right?”

He cocked his head. “Aye. I hadn’t noticed, but you do seem to be discorporated.”

“Fantastic. That doesn’t have to mean I’m dead, right? Don’t answer that,” I said quickly. I refused to be dead before I ended Milus Dei. “As for the rest, I’ll try to give you the short version.”

I told him about the weapon and my decision to go after them first for once before they did something awful, and how they’d done something awful anyway. An entire town dead. The mass burial pit in the desert. “They were all screaming,” I said hoarsely. “I heard them, even before we reached the grave, and I had to do something. But I didn’t know how to help them. I mean, I’ve accidentally worked with a shitload of souls before, with Legba. You remember him, right?”

Kelwyyn shuddered. “Aye. He still wanders the Mists, upsetting the natural order by refusing to die. I see him on occasion,” he said. “I cannot say I look forward to those instances.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Legba, false voodoo god and soul-eater, was not a pleasant whatever-he-was. Giant bug, once you took all his souls away. “Anyway, when I dealt with him it was different. They wanted to get out. I just had to start a few off, and the rest left by themselves. But I can’t do whatever I did then. I tried, but these guys just keep screaming.” I closed my eyes briefly. “I reached out anyway, and …”

“And here you are.” Kelwyyn gave a gentle smile. “Now I see what’s happened. You’ve summoned me for help.”

“Um. Not on purpose,” I said. “No offense, but I wasn’t exactly thinking about you and I have no idea how to summon you.”

He nodded. “Of course you don’t. I’d no idea how to summon the DeathSpeaker before me, when I first needed her help,” he said. “But it happened regardless, and I recall being just as confused as you are now.”

“Well, that’s great.” I decided not to mention all the times before now that I sure as hell could’ve used help from an experienced DeathSpeaker, and yet had never managed to accidentally summon Kelwyyn. “If you know how this works, then just tell me how to get back. I can’t stay here.”

“Do you not wish to know the answer to your question?” he said.

“I didn’t ask you anything,” I snapped.

“But you did. You’ve asked how to help all those people.” A look of concern flooded his smooth features. “Perhaps you should take a moment to calm yourself first, Gideon,” he said. “You’ve such anger in you now. Your soul is black with it.”

“You’re damned right, I’m angry!” My fists clenched hard enough to hurt. “Those bastards just murdered five hundred people, and I couldn’t stop them. I’ve never stopped them. All I do is try to salvage what I can from the destruction they leave behind, and I’m sick of it! I need to —” I broke off suddenly, remembering the first conversation I had with Kelwyyn. The warning he gave me, and the Word powerful enough to destroy a soul. “It’s Dante, isn’t it?” I said. “Dante is the great evil who can destroy all of creation. He’s the one I have to use the Word on.”

He shuddered. “Aye, that’s the one,” he said softly. “But you’ll not face him yet.”

“I want to face him,” I ground out. “I want to kill him, and end this.”

“You will encounter this evil one directly, in time. Sadly, I suspect that time is not long from now. And perhaps you will use the Word to end him — but perhaps you will not,” Kelwyyn said. “You may find another way.”

“There is no other way!” I shouted, and then forced myself to throttle back before I could try to murder the ghost of Kelwyyn, or whatever he was. “All right. I’m sorry,” I said when I saw the look of dismay on his face. Even I was starting to feel a little shocked at the depths of my anger. That wasn’t like me. “Yes, I’d like to know how to help these people,” I said as calmly as I could. “And then I have to get back.”

“Very well, then.” He still looked uncertain, reserved, but he took a breath and plunged on. “You must release their souls from their bodies, so that they can move on,” he said. “With so many unnatural deaths, so near to one another, they are caught in the last moments of their lives. Reliving their deaths, the pain and the fear. Over and over again. They are unable to escape.”

My stomach clenched like a fist. “So, if I wasn’t here to release them …”

“Their souls would suffer this torment for eternity.” His dark eyes stared at me. “The DeathSpeaker is more than a conduit for the dead, Gideon,” he said. “You can still save them.”

Maybe I could, but releasing their souls wouldn’t make them any less dead. Or Milus Dei any less evil. Still, I nodded and said, “Tell me how.”

“There is a spell that can forcibly separate a soul from where it does not belong,” he said. “It is not Fae magic, but yours alone to wield. The magic of the DeathSpeaker. Beyond the words, it will require a great deal of strength, of willpower and compassion — all that you have. It will not be easy, or painless, particularly because of the number of souls involved.” His mouth drew into a grim line. “But first, you must get them to listen.”

So I listened. And he told me.

Chapter 11

I didn’t know exactly what Kelwyyn did, but one second I was in the Mists, and the next I was back in the desert, on the ground with both Calla and Taeral looming over me. “I’m fine,” I said instinctively, sounding anything but. “How long was I out?”

Calla frowned. “Maybe two or three minutes. We were about to load you in the truck and get the hell out of here.”

“Not yet. There’s something I have to do first.”

Taeral held a hand out as I tried to push off the ground, and I let him help me up. “Whatever you have planned, brother, I’m not certain you should follow through,” he said. “You’ve already begun bleeding again.”

I shook my head and staggered. I could already feel the edges of the screams probing their way back into my head, poised to explode again. “No, I’ve got to. It’s my job.”

“What job?” Calla said angrily. “Committing suicide? Gideon, you’re barely on your feet. And if it’s about these people, there’s nothing you can do to help —”

“Yes, I can,” I grated as fury surged through me, just as strong as it had in the Mists. Part of me knew I’d have a lot of explaining to do later, but right now, I had to get through this. Before the screams drove away the words I was desperately hanging onto.

I closed my eyes to block out the living, and the press of the dead clamped around my mind like a vise. This time it wasn’t just the screaming, though. I felt them dying, caught flashes of images racing across the darkness — black-clad men in gas masks throwing canisters that belched billowing smoke, running and screaming, the occasional harsh bark of guns. People gasping, clutching their throats, writhing and convulsing on the ground.

Parents desperately trying to shield their children, even as they died.

It was too much, too fast. Their pain filled me until I couldn’t even remember how to think, much less concentrate enough to speak. But then I heard a distinct voice, separate and above the horrific din of dying.

First, you must get them to listen.

My head cleared a little, and I managed to drag a breath down my constricting windpipe. “Eihs’techet,” I called out, forcing as much magic as I could into the spell — enough that I felt the drain on my spark.

The silence that followed was heavy and expectant. I could still feel them all around me, filled with the terror and agony of their last moments, desperate and confused. But listening.

“You’re trapped here,” I said, still not daring to open my eyes. I couldn’t afford to get distracted and start this all over again. “But I’m going to set you free. So if you’ll all try to calm down … everything will be okay.”

My voice caught on the last bit of my hollow reassurance. None of this would be okay, ever. But this was the last thing, the only thing I could do for them. Now I just had to say the spell and really mean it. Like, strenuously mean it.

“Ah-dab ilah alnuir.”

I expected to struggle with the words I’d never spoken, but they came easy, the way that the Fae tongue had the first time I’d visited Arcadia. The rest of it wasn’t so easy, though. As the spell left my mouth, I could almost feel every shred of strength and stamina drain out with it, turning my entire body into a quivering mass — like I’d just run the Boston Marathon ten times in a row. My legs gave out and I fell to my knees, drenched in sweat. To top it all off, everything in me ached and throbbed like a rotten tooth. I swore even my fingernails hurt.

“Holy shit,” someone said outside the pounding in my ears.

I forced my eyes open and tried to blink through my swimming vision. Streaks of blue light shot upward all around me, and at first I thought I was hallucinating. Then I decided someone had set off a bunch of flares, probably Chester or Rex. I just couldn’t figure out why they’d do that, or why the hell they were blue.

“Well, brother,” Taeral said softly from somewhere close. “Whatever you’d meant to do, I believe you’ve accomplished it.”

I finally realized the blue streaks weren’t flares or hallucinations. They were souls, bursting from the ground and headed for the sky, many of them twisting and twining around each other in what almost looked like a dance. I couldn’t hear their voices anymore, but I could feel their relief … and their gratitude.

“What the hell’s going on?” Rex demanded in rough tones, taking a hasty step back from the group. “What are those things?”

I let out a shaky breath and struggled to stand. For the moment, I wasn’t sure I could remember how to make words out loud. I’d never been this exhausted in my whole life.

“I think they’re souls,” Calla said, saving me from attempting to answer. “Aren’t they, Gideon? The souls of all the people they…”

I managed a nod.

“They’re coming.” Sadie’s voice cut in with an edge of worry. “Shit, they must’ve seen it, too. We have to get out of here.”

This time I heard the approaching helicopter almost immediately after Sadie finished talking. Sound carried a lot better out here with nothing around for miles — except, of course, for six very visible people and their equally visible black Hummer, standing out like bullseyes on the flat, pale landscape of the desert.

Calla hooked an arm around me and started dragging me toward the arroyo and the vehicle on the other side. I stumbled along as fast as I could, still breathing hard, and my gaze lifted to the sky as the chopper’s engine grew louder. It was coming fast from the direction of the mountain range, already more defined than a black smudge against cloudless blue.

“We’ll never get away from that in time,” Chester half-shouted, jogging to catch up with everyone else right behind him. “We gotta hide somewhere. Do you guys have any camouflage spells, maybe teleportation?”

Taeral huffed loudly. “It is one human machine. I will handle it.”

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about that, Mister Magic?” Rex shouted, pointing toward the helicopter. As he spoke, an ominous whine filled the air and a smaller dark shape detached from the bird, streaking toward us fast.

It didn’t take long to make out what it was. A missile.

“Everybody, get close!” I rasped as loud as I could, pushing Calla back toward the group. “Taeral. Dome shield.”

He raised an eyebrow, then nodded and lifted a hand. “Cruihnn à dionadth,” he called.

A translucent bubble formed around us. Seconds later, the missile slammed against the top of the clear dome, driving the shield at least a foot into the ground. I had time to see the sleek nose crumple and shrapnel bursting in all directions, before a booming blue-white explosion splashed the invisible barrier and rippled across it.

The air inside the dome seemed to explode in pure noise, and shockwaves scattered us like leaves in the wind. I flew back and crashed into the shield wall — and felt it give way as it spilled me to the ground.

Ears ringing, nose trickling blood, I forced myself to my feet and staggered a few steps, shaking my head. “What the hell kind of missile was that?” I gasped out.

“Concussive blast.” Rex’s voice was muffled, probably because I could barely hear anything. “They’re not shooting to kill. Not yet, anyway.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense,” Calla said. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Do you want them to try killing us?” Sadie snapped.

Chester waved a hand over his head and pointed. “Incoming!”

I looked up in time to see three long, dark shapes detach from the helicopter and head for us.

“Shit! Taeral, even if we throw shields, three of them blasting like that could kill someone,” I said — thinking mostly of Calla, with Chester and Rex a close second. They were only human, and all three of them were bleeding more than me already. “Got any ideas?”

“They are metal, correct?” He drew the lodestone pendant from his shirt and gripped it with his metal hand. Almost instantly, the black crystal shard glowed purple, and the same light traced through the runes carved into his arm. “Stand back.”

I nodded and tried to herd everyone away from him. The lodestone could control all types of metal — but I’d never seen him try to use it on metal that was moving so fast.

Taeral gestured with the pendant. Three blasts of purple light shot from his hand and impacted with the missiles, stopping them in midair. Taeral’s teeth clenched, and his outstretched arm trembled with effort as he made a complicated looping motion. The missiles turned obediently and flew into each other, exploding on impact.

The shockwave from the blast still shook the ground where we stood.

“Still think they’re not shooting to kill?” Calla said sarcastically.

Rex had no response to that.

Now the helicopter was close enough to make out the machine guns mounted at either side door, and the missile tube attached above the cockpit. As I watched, two more missiles launched from the tube — followed quickly by a third, and then a fourth.

Taeral staggered back a step, the purple glow sputtering in his hand. He wouldn’t be able to do that again.

“Come on!” I shouted, rushing toward my brother as I gestured for the rest to follow. There was no time to think of anything else. I’d have to try another dome shield and hope the blast didn’t break every bone in our bodies. “Cruihnn à dionadth!”

I gestured fiercely and felt my body burn with the effort. It wasn’t my spark running out. The spell that Kelwyyn gave me had sapped something vital, and I had almost nothing left. At least the shield still formed.

But it didn’t do much against the missiles when they hit. This time the sound was a deafening roar as the blast not only took out the dome, but tore up the ground, rupturing dirt and spraying stone into the air. I caught a stomach-churning glimpse of a few tangled bodies as the mass grave ripped itself open with the force of it.

Then the ground opened up beneath us, and we were falling.

Chapter 12

“Everyone okay?” I croaked out when the ground stopped moving and I found myself flat on my back, surprisingly not buried under a landslide. There was space around me, but I couldn’t see anything beyond a few slim pencil-beams of light choked with swirling dust and grit, descending from somewhere above.

A few coughs and groans responded. “Define okay,” someone rasped in a voice so hoarse, I couldn’t make out who it was.

“Preferably not dead.” I pushed up on trembling arms and drew the moonstone pendant out. “De’àrsahd.”

The stone spilled out cool white light, and I blinked around trying to take in the damage. We were in some kind of tunnel, blocked at the end where we’d fallen in and stretching past the glow of the moonstone in the other direction. I counted five bodies other than me, all of them more or less moving, so at least we’d all made it down here.

Wherever this was.

I forced myself to my feet and headed for the others. Taeral and Sadie were already up, with Sadie looking a half-conscious Chester over while Taeral stared intently down the tunnel, an uneasy look on his face. Rex sat on the ground, squinting and patting his pockets like he’d misplaced his keys. And Calla leaned against the dirt wall of the tunnel, head down and shivering with her arms crossed over her stomach.

“You all right, Frost?” I said as I rushed toward her. She was filthy and bloodied, which was about the same condition as the rest of us — but I worried she might have internal injuries or something. The last series of blasts felt like they’d done some serious damage.

When I got within a few steps of her, she held a hand out to stop me without looking up. “Gimme a sec,” she muttered.

I nodded and moved back a bit. She shuddered, coughed a few times and spat in the dirt, then swiped an arm across her mouth before she finally raised her head. “Ugh,” she said. “So, any idea where we are?”

“Um, a tunnel. I guess,” I said, just as the muffled sound of a helicopter engine swelled somewhere above us. The ground vibrated, and small shivers of dirt and stones erupted from the ceiling. It sounded like the thing was landing right on top of us.

“We’d better move away from here,” Calla said. “Do you think it’s safe?”

“No idea, but I’m sure it’s safer than up there. For now.” I glanced over and saw Rex and Chester on their feet, looking at the tunnel ceiling with alarm. Sadie had grabbed Taeral’s hand, and he still wore the same worried expression directed into the darkness beyond. “C’mon, guys,” I said as loud as I dared over the helicopter noise. “Let’s put some distance between us and that bird.”

We headed further down the pitch-black tunnel. Chester and Rex had both managed to produce flashlights from somewhere, and I extinguished the moonstone in favor of the light on my phone. Had a feeling I’d need to conserve as much magic as possible, especially since we were underground.

When we’d gotten far enough away from the chopper that we couldn’t hear it anymore, I turned toward the rest of them and motioned to stop. “Maybe we’d better take a minute and figure out what we’re going to do from here,” I said. “This wasn’t exactly in the plan.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Chester grumbled. “All the food and water, most of the weapons, they’re still up there in the Hummer. I say we wait ’em out, then go back and get it.”

“Like those bastards ain’t up there picking that vehicle clean as we speak.” Rex looked at him with a frown. “How many brains did that blast knock out of your head, Iceman? Don’t tell me you lost your edge.”

Chester huffed a breath. “Shit. Well, we’re still armed,” he said, patting the snub-nosed micro Uzi at his side, one of them he’d passed out on the drive into town. We all had one, except for Rex. “So now that they’re on the ground, we go up there and — damn it, that won’t work either. Assholes probably have backup on the way already.”

“Okay, look. Whatever’s up there, we might have a problem down here too,” I said. “I mean, we fell into a random tunnel. Any idea how it got here or where it goes?”

“Could be part of an old silver mine,” Rex said slowly, shining his flashlight around at the featureless dirt walls. “There’s abandoned mines all over those mountains. Don’t know that one of ’em would stretch all the way out here, though.”

Taeral moved toward me, catching my eye with a solemn gaze. “This is no mine shaft.”

“He’s right. No support beams, no rails or lights,” Chester said as he walked toward one of the walls and pushed a hand against it. Rills of dirt tumbled down from his palm. “It’s freshly dug. Couldn’t have been here more than a few days, a week tops.”

“I believe it has been here no longer than a few moments,” Taeral said.

That got everyone’s attention. I blinked at him, a frown furrowing my brow. “So, what, you think Milus Dei was digging out to us, or from the burial pit, or …”

His jaw firmed. “You did not feel it, then.”

“Feel what?”

“The magic,” he said as he drifted slightly past me, still staring into the darkness ahead. “I felt it just as I activated the lodestone. A great surge, something powerful and … ancient. It was nearly similar to Fae, thought I could not tell why it was off. And it came from there.” He pointed down the tunnel and looked back. “Someone — or something — created this passage in response to our magic.”

A shiver traced my spine. “Is that good or bad?”

“I’ve no idea,” Taeral said.

Rex grumbled under his breath, produced something from a pocket and directed his flashlight beam at his hand. The something was a compass. He watched the needle shiver and steady, glanced up and back down to check the compass again. “Well, magic or not, this tunnel’s headed straight for their base,” he said. “We keep going down here and they’ll never see us coming.”

“Or they’re expecting us to take it straight to their base, where they’ll be waiting at the other end,” Sadie said. “I mean, Milus Dei could’ve made the tunnel.”

Calla shook her head. “Highly unlikely. They study magic, but they don’t use it.”

“Aye, but they have often forced Others to perform magic in their service,” Taeral said. “Reun, for instance.”

“And my pack,” Sadie said pointedly.

“Well, I’m still Team Creepy Tunnel,” Calla said. “We don’t know what’s up there in terms of men and firepower. Like you said, Chester, they’ve probably called for backup already. And they seem to have assholes to spare.”

Rex grunted. “Don’t know what’s down here, either. Maybe the Iceman’s right about going back and blasting those bastards.”

“Yeah, scratch that. I think I’m leaning toward Team Creepy Tunnel,” Chester said with a glance at Calla. “But maybe we should ask the boss.”

Everyone looked at me.

I held back a sigh. This whole lead-the-charge thing really wasn’t my style, but apparently I was stuck with it. “Fine,” I said. “For now, we’ll stay with the creepy tunnel. It might be the faster way, at least.”

I’d just have to hope it wasn’t the faster way to death.

Chapter 13

We’d been walking for hours through the unchanging tunnel when I called a halt, before we could start dropping from sheer exhaustion. I would’ve stopped sooner due to the lack of supplies, but Chester and Rex had managed to carry a surprising amount of stuff concealed on their persons — among them trail mix, a couple of MREs, some meat jerky of mysterious origin that I didn’t want to ask about, and full canteens of water.

That’d kept us going for a while. But now we were almost completely out of water and food, the batteries in the flashlights and the phones we’d been using were close to dying, and it was getting late.

“We’re stopping now?” Rex grumbled when I announced the rest. “Come on, kid. We’re only five miles out from the place, give or take. We should keep going.”

Taeral raised an eyebrow at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I know my pace count,” Rex said, pointing at his feet. “Once you know that, it’s easy to calculate distance. You don’t go out into the wilderness without knowing how fast you walk and how far you’ve gone, especially if you’re going without a map. Back in the seventies, me and some buddies walked the—”

“All right.” Taeral flapped a dismissive hand in the air. “I’ve no need to hear your life story as an explanation. You might have simply said ‘math’ and be done with it.”

Rex’s lip curled. “That’s right. I forget you high-and-mighty Fae don’t bother with shit like math and logic and strategy. You’ve got magic.”

“Aye, we do,” he said. “And you’ve … grit and determination, or some such thing. I suppose you believe yourself superior to the Fae because you try harder. That is the general human sentiment, is it not?”

A thick sound escaped Rex’s throat. “Hey, I’m not the wimp who decided to stop five lousy miles from the bad guys. That was your superior brother.”

“Okay, stop,” I said sharply, stepping between Taeral and Rex before my brother could try to smite him for insulting me. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have a problem walking five more miles, but it won’t do us any good to be exhausted when we get there. Right?”

Rex muttered something under his breath.

“What was that, human?” Taeral said in a dangerously soft tone.

“Taeral, calm down.” I shot him a warning look, and then turned to Rex. “If you knew my brother, you’d understand that what he said about grit and stuff was actually a compliment—”

“It most certainly was not,” Taeral snapped.

“At least it would’ve been, if you hadn’t gone after him first,” I finished with a sigh. “But here’s the thing. We have to find some real food and get some sleep before we go up against God knows how many Milus Dei soldiers, and Taeral and I need to get up in the moonlight to recharge our stones. And ourselves. That’s why we’re stopping now.”

Rex studied me for a minute, and then turned a sour expression on Taeral. “I guess that means he’s gonna do that dirt-moving trick again, huh? It’s either that or we keep walking until we find the end of this thing. And I don’t know about the rest of you, but I ain’t got a shovel up my ass.”

“Yes, I will do my ‘trick’,” Taeral said with a sneer. “As for food, perhaps I shall transform you into a cow. I would not mind feasting on steak this night.”

All the color drained from Rex’s features. “You can’t do that,” he sputtered and looked at me. “Can he?”

“He won’t,” I said firmly. “But yes, he can get us up to the surface. In the meantime, I don’t think we should all go out there. Maybe we can—”

“Gideon?” Sadie called from somewhere in the darkness ahead of us. She’d already scouted ahead several times throughout the long walk, since she could actually see in complete darkness thanks to her werewolf senses. “Can you bring a light up here? I think I found something.”

Taeral and I glanced at each other, and then took off at almost a run. I activated the moonstone’s glow on the way.

“Chill out, gentlemen. It’s not a bad thing … I think,” Sadie said as we reached her.

The glow from my pendant illuminated something that looked like it used to be a wooden door, or maybe a wall, that had been blasted into the dirt tunnel from the other side. Splinters and larger pieces of old, weathered wood sprayed across the floor and stuck into the walls. Beyond the exploded hole was an actual mine shaft, complete with support beams and rails and torches that hadn’t been lit in decades. The air smelled musty, and the faintest breeze whistled down the wider, more inviting tunnel — which continued in the same direction as the one we’d been walking in all day.

“See? Told you there were a bunch of mines out here,” Rex’s voice said from behind me, just before he pushed past us and walked straight through the blasted-out hole.

Chester and Calla had followed him over. While Chester scrambled after Rex, calling him ten kinds of idiot for not checking for traps before he stepped through an obvious explosion, Calla came up next to me and grabbed my arm. “I’m not so sure this is a good sign,” she said under her breath. “A magic tunnel that just happens to join up with one that probably goes right into that mountain?”

“I thought you were all aboard with Team Creepy Tunnel,” I said, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, I don’t know about this either. But it’s what we’ve got right now, and we need a break.”

Calla frowned and stared through the hole, where Rex and Chester were gathering pieces of loose wood and arguing over where to build a fire. “I guess,” she said reluctantly. “But I’m probably going to sleep with one eye open and a gun in my hand.”

I figured my night was going to look about the same.

Taking Calla’s hand, I led her toward the mine shaft and made sure Taeral and Sadie were following. “Okay, so the fire will probably be fine,” I said. If this was a trap, and someone at the other end smelled smoke and came after us, at least we’d be able to see them coming. “Taeral and I will head out for food and water, while you get that going and maybe figure out sleeping arrangements or something.”

“Hang on, kid.” Rex dropped a few boards onto the growing pile between him and Chester. “You’re gonna need somebody with experience out there, if you really want to gather sustenance. Ain’t no convenience stores in the desert.”

I managed not to roll my eyes. “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Chester chimed in. “Look, Gideon, you know I respect you. But just because you can spot a nest of snakes in the Appalachians, doesn’t mean you can find food, let alone water, out here.”

Taeral blanched at the s-word. “I despise snakes,” he said hoarsely.

“The mighty Unseelie is afraid of snakes,” Rex said with a laugh. “See what I mean, kid? You let me and Iceman go up there, and—”

“I do not fear snakes. I despise them,” Taeral spat.

I flashed a smirk at him, and then faced Rex and Chester. “Really, I’ve got this,” I said. “I’d rather have you guys down here prepping the fire and keeping watch.”

Rex folded his arms. “So what do you think you’re gonna find to eat? Nuts and berries, maybe a barrel cactus or something?” he said. “And what about water? Bet you can find an oasis just around the corner, right?”

I knew he was testing me. Didn’t really want to brag about my desert survival skills, but I had reasons for wanting just me and Taeral up on the surface. And if I told him why, I’d wound his pride. So I decided to stick with facts.

“Well, most barrel cactus are basically toxic, and pine nuts take about six weeks to process,” I said. “Chokecherry’s out because of the arsenic. We could cook them down, but there wouldn’t be much left and they don’t really taste that great, anyway. So I was thinking prickly pear pads and maybe a few jackrabbits, since they’re usually out after dark. Oh, and the water. We’ll look for a spring under a willow or cottonwood tree, or a water hole if we can find any wasps or sparrows active at this time of night.”

Both of the older men gaped at me. Chester recovered first, blinking a few times as he handed me the canteen from one of his jacket pockets. “I’m thinkin’ me and Rex’ll stay down here and work on the fire,” he said. “Guess you’ve got this.”

“Well, damn. I know when I’m beat.” Rex grinned as he held his canteen out to Taeral. “You find any snakes out there, go ahead and kill those bastards too. Honestly, rattler meat ain’t half bad when it’s roasted right.”

Taeral shuddered. “I would sooner eat raw sewage.”

“Suit yourself.” Rex shrugged and went back to the wood pile, squatting on his haunches to rearrange things.

I let out a slow breath and faced Taeral. “You ready?”

“Aye,” he said. “Though I am not pleased at the prospect of snakes.”

“Yeah, you and me both.”

Running into a couple of rattlesnakes was the least dangerous possibility of this little expedition into the desert. But at least watching out for snakes would keep my mind off Milus Dei and what waited for us in the mountain.

Chapter 14

With a full moon and a clear sky liberally sprinkled with stars, we had enough light to move around comfortably. Taeral covered the hole he’d opened in the ground after we climbed up, making sure we’d be able to find the disturbed earth again. And we set off toward a small clump of cottonwood trees surrounded by scrub brush in the near distance.

“So, I saw Kelwyyn today,” I said.

Taeral shot a glare at me. “Where?”

“Back at the burial pit, when I blacked out.”

“And you did not think to mention this before now?”

“Didn’t want to bring it up in mixed company.” I let out a breath and told him about the ‘DeathSpeaker spell’ that made releasing all those souls easier, and what he’d said about Dante and the Word. “Apparently, I can summon him when I need help,” I said.

Taeral’s brow rose. “Dante?”

“No, Kelwyyn,” I said, biting back a laugh. “Believe me, if I could summon Dante, I would’ve done it by now. So I could end that bastard.”

“That may not be the best idea, brother,” he said. “Not until we know more about this creature.”

“All I need is the Word. And Kelwyyn said I’d have it when I faced him.”

“Did he? Those were his exact words?”

I clenched my jaw. “Okay, he said I’d have it when I need it. But if Dante is the great evil, that’s when I’ll need it. To destroy him.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Taeral said softly, tilting his face to the moon and the bright stars above. “Magic does not always obey the desires of the one who wields it, Gideon. Particularly a powerful spell such as this. I believe that Kelwyyn learned this lesson at great personal cost, and I’d not see the same happen to you.”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re right,” I said with a sigh. After the Fae nobles had Kelwyyn’s daughter executed in an attempt to control him, he went crazy and got more dangerous than ever. In his madness, he’d used the Word to destroy a lot of souls forever, and I knew he regretted it. That’s why he hadn’t even spoken it out loud when he gave it to me — instead, he’d planted it in my head so I couldn’t get to it easily. “But I’m so goddamned furious about … everything, you know? We came out here to stop them before they got started, only to find they’d already killed five hundred innocent people. We have to take them down.”

“Aye, and we will. Eventually,” Taeral said. “You are right to want this Dante destroyed, and you are the only one who can accomplish it. But I’ll not see you sacrifice yourself in the attempt. That is why I caution restraint, and patience.” He flashed a crooked smile. “It is my job to protect you, brother. Even when you refuse to accept my protection.”

I grunted. “We got rid of that promise, remember?”

“And yet I will keep it. Because I choose to.”

“Yeah, I know you will.” I grinned and elbowed him. “So how about you protect me from that snake?”

He went rigid. “Snake?”

I let him hang for a few seconds, until I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Relax, man. Snakes go to sleep when the sun goes down. You won’t see any out here.” I paused and arranged a sober expression. “Unless you step on a nest, of course.”

Taeral glowered at me until I cracked a smile. “There is nothing amusing about snakes,” he said.

“Yeah, but there’s plenty amusing about your face,” I sputtered, caught up in laughter again. “Come on, let’s get to those trees. I promise there won’t be a single snake over there.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he started walking again.

As we approached the little patch of moon-black greenery standing stark against the sands, a flurry of jackrabbits burst out from under the brush. We acted fast enough to take down three of them with headshots — well, mostly Taeral did, since he was still a much better shot than me. By unspoken consent, we moved quickly to gather the rabbit carcasses and head into the vegetation, in case anyone was lurking around and heard the shots.

Good thing we did, because just as we reached the trees, the distant thrum of a helicopter filled the air. We crawled under the brush and waited as the sound grew louder, and then caught sight of a searchlight zigzagging across the ground. The light passed over our hiding place two or three times, and finally the chopper continued on until we couldn’t hear the engine anymore.

So they were still out looking for us. I hoped that meant they had no idea about the tunnels.

Just as I’d mentioned to Rex, where there was life, there was water. Inside the little oasis, a partially hidden spring bubbled from beneath the roots of one of the trees, feeding into a shallow watering hole.

We both drank our fill before we held the canteens to the spring. Then Taeral shot me a wary glance before he produced a large silver flask from inside his duster.

I arched an eyebrow. “Whiskey?”

“Elderberry wine,” he said, wincing slightly. “I would claim I brought it for medicinal purposes, but …” His jaw twitched as he cut himself off and stared at the ground.

“Hey, man. I’m not going to knock you for your drinking habits, okay?” I knew exactly when it started, and why — sometime shortly after Milus Dei had held and tortured him for nine months, and he’d had to cut off his own arm to escape. That wasn’t the only thing he’d lost, either. “That’s Sadie’s job.”

He frowned and started to unscrew the top. “I will pour it out. We’ve more of a need for water, anyway.”

I put a hand over his to stop him. “Got a better idea,” I said. “Let’s drink it. I mean, it’s berries, and berries are fruit, so it’s practically nutrition.”

He looked startled for a second, and then eased into a grin. “Aye, I suppose it is,” he said. “We should not waste nutrition at a time like this.”

“Exactly.”

Not far from the tree stand was a large, flat rock with the biggest face slightly inclined, perfect for desert stargazing. We climbed up and lay back with our pendants out to catch the moonlight, passing the flask back and forth in comfortable silence.

Taeral and I didn’t get much time to just hang out and be brothers. And yeah, being in the middle of the desert and trying not to get killed by Milus Dei while we tracked down a legendary Fae-killing weapon wasn’t the best time to kick back and enjoy the company — but it was nice while it lasted.

When the flask was nearly empty, Taeral let out a long breath and propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze rooted to the sky. “Counting stars,” he muttered.

“What’d you say?”

He smiled crookedly. “The stars remind me of Levoran,” he said. “How he said it would not be so bad, to spend eternity counting them. Perhaps he is right. I must admit, it is quite peaceful in this place.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I didn’t want to think too much about Levoran at the moment, especially the way he died — both times. He’d been an old family friend, much more to Taeral and Daoin than me, and his passing had hurt. But part of me had to agree with the sentiment. This kind of clear, star-filled, quiet night in nature was the only comfort I had growing up. And I’d always been drawn to the moon, even before I knew what I was. “I’m not ready for eternity yet, though,” I finally said.

Taeral shifted slightly. “Nor am I. But I do wonder … what will we do, when it’s over? If we manage to defeat Dante—”

“When,” I said with as much confidence as possible. “We are going to beat him.”

“Very well, then.” He smiled. “When we defeat Dante, when Milus Dei is no longer a threat. What happens then? We have fought them for so long, I can scarcely remember when I had a purpose that did not relate to either avoiding them, or battling them.”

I shrugged and summoned a grin. “I’m going to Disneyworld.”

Taeral raised an eyebrow. “You wish to battle evil in a children’s amusement park?”

“Never mind,” I laughed. “It’s an old joke, before your time. Honestly … I have no idea what we’ll do. Maybe we should just take a vacation.”

“At Disneyworld?” he said.

He seemed so earnest, I couldn’t bring myself to laugh at him. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” I said, sitting up to stretch. “Meanwhile, we should probably get back to the rest of them before Chester and Rex start trying to ‘protect the women,’ or something equally chivalrous and stupid.”

“Aye,” Taeral chuckled. “Though I’d not mind seeing Sadie react to such an offer.”

We headed back toward the trees, to refill the flask and gather the rabbits. Even though I hadn’t slept, I actually felt more rested than I had all day — more than I had for weeks, in fact. Whether it was the rare moment of peace or the wine, or more likely both, I was restored.

So maybe the long night ahead wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

Chapter 15

Chester and Rex not only had a good fire going, complete with spits ready for the rabbits, they’d also produced a notebook and pen between them and drawn up a rotating watch schedule for the night. Two up and four down for two-hour stretches, with a sentry posted at either side of the tunnel while the rest of us slept.

Of course, they’d nominated themselves for the first watch. Color me unsurprised.

We ate well, considering. I’d spotted a good-sized patch of prickly pear on the way back, so we had meat, greens, and fresh spring water. Plus it turned out Chester had been holding back a Hershey bar. Twelve squares of chocolate divided by six people, which worked out perfectly.

No one had much to say after dinner. We paired off with Calla and I bedding down on the opposite side of the fire from Taeral and Sadie, while Rex and Chester split into the tunnel—Rex headed down the mine shaft toward the mountain, and Chester backtracking into the freshly burrowed part. I was still uneasy about who, or what, that tunnel came from, but we didn’t have a lot of options.

The slightly spongy ground wasn’t the most comfortable of beds, but I’d slept on worse. I slid an arm around Calla, and she nestled closer and laid her head on my chest. “Maybe I should’ve stayed home,” she murmured.

“You mean you’re not having fun out here?” I said, trying to prod a smile. It didn’t work. “Seriously, what’s wrong? Besides … you know, everything.”

She released a shivery sigh. “I wanted to help you,” she said. “I’m not helping.”

“Seriously? You got us past those guards on the main road. Plus, you brought guns,” I said. “And we’d probably still be on the road right now, driving my van out here, if it wasn’t for you.”

“Yeah, well, getting here faster didn’t do us any good, did it?” The edges of anger traced her low voice. “They killed all those people. An entire town. Why?”

“I don’t know,” I said reluctantly. Though I’d only gotten scattered thoughts from the former residents of Basin Springs, I knew one thing: none of them could’ve answered that question, even if I’d asked directly. They had no idea why, either. “But I’m going to find out, once we get our hands on some of those soldiers.”

“You mean by killing them and asking their corpses.”

“Yes.” My own voice took on a hard, flat tone I barely recognized. “Pretty sure I’m fresh out of mercy when it comes to Milus Dei.”

Calla shivered against me. “That’s not like you, Gideon.”

“Well, maybe it is now.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just want to do what we came for, and get it over with.”

“Me, too.” She shifted, and her breath feathered my throat. “So it seems like you know a lot about deserts,” she said. “Is that because of your … the Valentines?”

I frowned. “Aren’t we supposed to be getting some sleep?”

“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

Damn it. I recognized that particular variety of ‘fine’— it meant she was upset with me, and probably a little hurt that I wouldn’t open up. To be honest, I couldn’t help my response. Slamming the door on my past was pure reflex, an instinctive reaction I’d built up since I’d escaped them at sixteen.

But I had to trust somebody, sometime. Pretty sure it was Sadie who’d told me something to that effect, even though it took me a while to act on it.

I could choose to trust Calla.

“Yeah, it’s because of them,” I said in a near whisper. She’d never met them, but she’d handled their mutilated corpses after they were killed by a rogue djinn. And she’d seen the ghost of Orville Valentine, my once-alleged father, tongue-lashing me a new asshole while he tried to kill me even after he’d died. “We spent a lot of time in deserts, mostly during the winters. Those were some of the worst times, actually.”

Calla went very still, as if she could feel the echoes of pain rolling through me. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay. I want to.” I hugged her a little tighter and managed a smile. “The thing about a desert is that basically, there’s nowhere to hide,” I said. “The forests, the swamps, even the mountains, there was always somewhere else to go. Away from them, when they finally decided to ignore me for a while. But in the desert …” I trailed off, unable to shape the desolation of endless miles of nothing into words. How trapped I’d felt during those weeks and months I’d been forced to stay near the camp — because the only other option was to wander out into the wastelands and die. “Anyway, I’m not a fan of them. Deserts.”

She raised her head to look at me. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not shutting me out,” she said with a gentle smile. “You didn’t say much, but it means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome, then.” I grinned back. “So that means you’re not mad at me anymore, right?”

She huffed a breath. “Please tell me you didn’t say that just so I wouldn’t be mad.”

I started to crack a joke, but something in her eyes stopped me. Just this once, maybe I’d attempt to be serious.

“No, I didn’t,” I said. “It’s not easy for me to keep that door open, and I can’t let you all the way through. I don’t want anyone in there with them, in that space where I keep the past locked up in my head. I won’t let those memories hurt the people I care about, period. But …” I clenched my jaw and exhaled through my nose. “I think, with you, I can start letting things out. And who knows? Maybe someday I’ll clear the whole room, and then you can help me wash the blood from the walls and start over.”

Her tight expression melted, and her eyes glistened in the firelight. “You know, I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at once.”

“So you’re saying I should shut up now.”

“You’re impossible,” she said, laughing as she leaned down to kiss me. “I’m just saying that I won’t push you — but any time you want to talk, I’m here to listen. Okay?”

“Okay.” I planted a kiss on her forehead. “Can we go to sleep now? I mean, unless you want to look for somewhere a little more private…”

She giggled and rested her head on me again. “This is a tunnel. It’s practically the definition of no privacy,” she said. “So I guess we’ll just have to sleep.”

“Damn. That sucks.”

A smile lingered on her lips as her eyes closed. Not long after, her breathing slowed and evened out, and her body relaxed.

“So much for sleeping with one eye open,” I whispered into her hair with a smile of my own. Hopefully she’d manage to get a few solid hours of sleep. I had to try for the same, so I closed my eyes and focused on keeping them closed, until drowsiness stole over me.

And within what felt like seconds, I opened them in the desert.

Chapter 16

It was a dream. Had to be, because this wasn’t night or New Mexico. It was the last gasp of dusk in the Sonoran Desert, specifically the southern part in actual Mexico. And I could see the dying light of the sun glinting off the circle of silver Airstreams in the distance.

I even knew which day this was. Mid-January, the winter I was fifteen. The Valentines had been down here hunting jaguars and Gila monsters — both big-dollar catches for the black market. The previous night, Orville had forced me to flush out a nest of the poisonous lizards, and one of them clamped its jaws onto my hand. I had to kill it to get it off. The bite was agonizing, and I’d been sicker than a dog since. I’d also caught a beating with his belt because I’d been dumb enough to render my hand, and therefore my slave labor, useless.

Just before this moment, a drunken Orville had ordered useless, stupid me to leave his camp. I’d staggered away in a stupor with a vague plan to wander the wastelands until I dropped dead. And then I noticed the stars.

So here I was — then, and now — flat on my aching back, staring at the vast spread of clear night sky like I’d never seen it before. And the heavens stared back at me, whispering eternity, telling me there had to be more than this. I felt so small, and at the same time utterly boundless. Like I could step into those stars and disappear from this life to a better one.

And then I heard footsteps approaching.

In the past, in my reality, those footsteps had belonged to Orville’s actual sons, Hodge and Morris. They’d dragged me back to camp and handed down a fresh beating, apparently for obeying Orville’s orders. But in the dream, only one man approached. A stranger.

Still, I felt like I knew him somehow. He was Egyptian, with long, straight black hair that shone blue in the moonlight and kohl black ringing his amber-brown eyes. Dressed in robes as brown as the desert. Sandals on his feet, and a sword strapped to his back.

I scrambled upright and faced him, my mind racing to recall the name Rex had told us. This had to be him, though I had no idea how I could dream so clearly about a man I’d never met, or even seen pictures of.

“Yusef,” I finally said.

He stopped six feet away from me, and his brow lifted slightly. “DeathSpeaker,” he said with a faint nod. “I thought I might find you close by. My soldiers advised me that you were coming.”

So that had been recognition from the soldier on the road, and they’d warned the boss about us. Damn it. So much for the element of surprise.

“I must admit I’m curious about something,” Yusef went on. “How could you know my name, when I am clearly not dead?”

I decided not to answer that. He’d obviously sent people to kill Rex, and if they thought he was dead, I wasn’t going to dissuade them of the notion. They knew we were coming, but they didn’t know everything. And the more we could spring on them, the better.

“Not very talkative, I see. Though I should have expected such resistance from one who’s given my lord so much … trouble.”

“Your lord?” I spat. “I take it you mean Dante.”

“I do, indeed.” He gave an odd little bow, almost courtly. “I am Yusef Tahirah, first paladin of the Order, loyal servant, and hand of the god. And you are Gideon Black, the DeathSpeaker, child of Lord Daoin Ciar’ Ansghar and Jessamyn Rose Hadley. Now we have been properly introduced.”

Anger bubbled in my gut when my mother’s name left his lips, but I refused to let it show. Instead I said with a hefty dose of sarcasm, “Mind telling me what you’re doing here in my dream, Mister Hand of the God?”

“That is simple enough to answer. It’s merely astral projection,” he said. “A feat all humans are capable of, though most never attempt to learn.”

“Yeah. Like you’re human.”

“Oh, I am perfectly human,” he said, smiling like we were best buddies. “At least, as near to perfection as one can become, aside from my lord. He is flawless.”

I snorted in contempt. “So by perfect, you mean you’re insane,” I said. “I guess that’s one way to put it. Are you not allowed to speak Dante’s name because he’s so damned flawless, or what?”

“I choose not to sully his name by forming it with my own imperfect tongue.” Yusef’s smile dropped away, and he took a step toward me. “Where are you hiding, Gideon Black? Your dreams obscure your location.”

As he spoke, I felt something prodding through my head like invisible fingers. I gritted my teeth and focused everything on the clearest real image I could conjure: Taeral and I reclining on the rock under the moonlight, counting stars.

“You are not there,” Yusef whispered. “We have searched that area. Now … where have you gone since then?” The pressure in my head increased until I thought my skull would split open, and then it vanished. “No matter. We will find you, sooner or later,” the man said. “For now, my lord wishes to speak with you.”

“Oh, yeah?” I figured what the hell, it was only a dream. So I’d go along with the nutjob and talk to not-really-Dante. “Fine. Have the big guy astral project his ass in here, then,” I said. “Apparently there’s plenty of room in my head.”

Yusef smiled again, this time without the hey-we’re-pals façade. “You misunderstand me, DeathSpeaker,” he said. “My lord is already here.”

Before I could ask which nonexistent dream rock Dante was hiding behind, Yusef’s eyes closed and his face twisted in pain. I blinked, and his features … changed. His face broadened slightly, his forehead sloped a little more. His skin paled several shades, and his eyes went from clear brown to piercing, sapphire blue.

I glimpsed ages in those eyes. And death.

“Finally,” the thing that wasn’t Yusef anymore said, and he sounded different too. Where Yusef spoke with a faint, cultured Middle Eastern accent, this voice was flat, devoid of inflection. Colder than stone. “So, you are the DeathSpeaker. You do not appear to be the deadly, unstoppable scourge that my followers have described.”

From him, I got the distinct impression of a man speaking to a bug who’d inconveniently splattered its guts on his windshield.

“You must be Dante,” I said. “Funny, you don’t look like a flawless, indestructible god.”

He laughed. The sound held about as much amusement as a pile of corpses. “The god of humanity, perhaps, if I must assume a title that your limited mind can grasp. I simply am.”

“Really. How god-like of you,” I drawled. “Listen, Dante. I’m not interested in having a chat with you, okay? I’ve only got one thing to say. When I find you, I’m going to kill you.”

I expected him to laugh again, but he didn’t. “I would be disappointed, if I possessed the capacity to feel such an insignificant emotion,” he said. “You must be aware that is not possible. However, I can offer you the opportunity to survive, if you join my fold willingly.”

My brain actually shut down for a moment while I tried to process the sheer amount of brass weighing down this asshole’s balls. “Join you?” I finally spit out. “And your little puppet said you were flawless. In my dictionary, that’s not a synonym for idiot, but what do I know? Maybe that’s what it means in Crazytown, or whatever planet you’re from.”

His frigid expression didn’t change. “I assume you are refusing my offer.”

“Ding-ding-ding! We have a winner,” I said. “Now get the hell out of my dream, god-boy. We’re not buying any cult memberships or murder bibles today.”

Instead of leaving, Yusef-Dante reached back and drew The Sword, which definitely deserved the capital letters my brain pronounced it with.

Fragarach was massive, with a jagged double-edged blade that curved back at the top and formed a pointed hook. The dulled gray metal glinted in the moonlight, and it almost seemed to sing as it cut the air. It was definitely cold iron — I could feel it burrowing into me, making me nauseous even from here.

He pointed the sword at me. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Let us find out whether it is true that if you die in a dream, you die in real life.”

“Why not? I don’t have any pressing appointments, other than killing your altar boy and taking your sword.” I yanked the moonstone pendant from my neck. “Calhaiom’nae solaas geahlí.”

Even in the dream, the spell did its work, transforming the stone shard into a glowing blue-white sword. I grinned and drew the weapon back. “How about you test the dream-dying theory first?” I said, and lunged at him.

He flicked the cold iron sword in an almost lazy motion. The blade met mine and shattered it into a spray of blue sparks that fell to the ground and solidified, forming crystal flecks and fragments.

He’d actually broken the moonstone.

For the first time since he’d possessed Yusef, Dante cracked a smile. “Your turn, DeathSpeaker,” he said as he surged forward and ran the wicked blade through my gut.

I woke up in the tunnel, screaming.

And the front of my shirt was soaked with blood.

Chapter 17

It was just a scratch. And by scratch, I meant a three-inch gash that was practically deep enough to put my fist in. But it sure as hell felt like some asshole had run me through with a cold iron sword.

My scream woke everyone and brought Chester and Rex rushing back. Taeral started healing me without question, but I knew I’d have to explain what happened.

So when he stopped, with my guts still burning thanks to the poison, I told them about the dream that wasn’t — at least, from the point where Yusef came in.

“The moonstone,” I blurted after I finished the part about the swordfight. I grabbed the leather cord and yanked it from my shirt, breathing a sigh of relief when the crystal emerged intact. Still, something wasn’t right. I stared closer at it and made out a thin black shadow caught in the shard. “Oh, shit,” I breathed. “De’àrsahd.”

The stone glowed, but it was weakened. And the light only threw the jagged crack through the center of the crystal into sharp relief.

“He’s cracked the master stone,” Taeral said hoarsely. “How is this possible?”

I shook my head and deactivated the pendant. “Astral projection, apparently.”

“No, it has to be more than that.” Calla was crouched beside me, holding my hand in both of hers. “My team did studies on astral projection and dreaming. None of the subjects could even enter other people’s dreams, let alone affect them.”

“Your team of what, exactly?” Rex said, giving her a sharp look. “Since when does the NSA study how to break into people’s heads? Christ, it’s bad enough you people listen to all our calls and read our texts.”

“Never mind. That’s not important,” I said. “The important thing is that Dante’s actually here. Sort of. And if we kill Yusef while Dante’s wearing him like a people suit, maybe we take out the big guy too. Or at least weaken him.”

Taeral frowned. “Gideon, we’ve no idea how this … possession works.”

“Yeah, and did you miss the part where he ripped your guts out in a dream, and made you bleed for real?” Sadie, who’d been standing behind Taeral, started to pace in short, frustrated arcs. “I don’t think we’re ready for this,” she said. “For this Yusef guy, maybe. But not Dante.”

I came close to shouting at her. After all, she was the one who’d been gung-ho about ripping a chunk out of Milus Dei’s ass, and now we were close enough to taste those bastards. But even through my rage, uneasiness wrapped me like a shroud. If Dante could do that much damage through a proxy who was physically miles away, how much worse would he be in person — or rather, in the person of Yusef?

If we lost anyone, I’d never be able to forgive myself. Even if it was Rex.

“Maybe there’s another way to do this,” I finally said. “I mean, Dante did ask me to join him. If I say yes—”

“Absolutely not,” Taeral said.

I looked at him. “We have to get that sword before they can make more.”

“Aye, we do. Milus Dei cannot be permitted to retain Fragarach, or to recreate the weapon,” he said. “But I’ll not allow you to sacrifice yourself in the process.”

“Allow me?” I said on a tide of rising anger. “I don’t need your permission, Taeral. If it’s the only way to stop them—”

“It is not the only way. We proceed as planned.”

“Our plan didn’t include a guy who can rip people open without being anywhere near them!” I stood, clenched my teeth and forced a calming breath. “You know, I really don’t get you,” I said. “You’re the one who said we have to proceed with caution. Now that we have some more information, and it’s not good news, you won’t even consider an alternative?”

He glared at me. “I will not consider handing you over to the very people I’ve tried to protect you from since the day you were born.”

“Of course not. You handed me over to the Valentines instead.”

The instant the words left my mouth, I wanted to drop dead from shame.

Not even in my deepest subconscious did I blame Taeral for my childhood, for switching my newborn self with the sickly infant that Orville’s wife had just delivered — he’d saved my life, and damn near lost his in the process. And he’d rescued me again when Milus Dei tracked me down as an adult, restoring my real identity and helping me shape my life as a half-Fae and the DeathSpeaker. Not to mention the countless times since that my dumb, stubborn ass would’ve died without him.

But I’d said it, and there was no way to un-ring this particular bell.

Taeral flinched once and went still as a stone. He said nothing, but I could see the pain in his eyes. It hurt me to look at him — and I knew what he was feeling was a thousand times worse. He’d always blamed himself for leaving me with the Valentines, once he’d learned what kind of monsters they were. No matter how many times I insisted it wasn’t his fault.

This time I’d confirmed it, even though I didn’t mean a single word I said. And it was killing him.

Sadie touched his arm, and he jerked away fast. “I believe I will take the next watch,” he grated, turning on a heel to march stiffly toward the rear tunnel.

Everyone watched him go. When he’d vanished into the darkness, Sadie whirled on me, her lip curled into a snarl. “I’ve never wanted to hit someone named Gideon more than I do right now,” she said in thick tones. “How could you do that to him?”

I couldn’t blame her. Hell, I wanted to hit me. “Not that it matters, but I didn’t mean it. At all.” I stepped toward her, holding my arms out loosely. “Go ahead, if you want to. I deserve a lot worse.”

Sadie’s eyes filled with tears. “I won’t. But only because you said that,” she whispered, glancing in the direction Taeral had gone. “Damn it, I can’t even go after him. He’s not going to listen to anyone right now.”

“Yeah, I know.” I closed my eyes. “Anybody else want to take a swing?”

I waited a few minutes. When I got no takers, I heaved a shuddering breath and lowered my arms. “I’ll go take the other watch, then,” I said, and headed down the tunnel in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, no matter how far away I went, I’d still have to put up with myself.

Chapter 18

Somehow the night passed. I barely slept, and not because I wanted to avoid a rerun dream of Dante-with-sword. At this point I’d gladly let that freakshow of a false god run me through again. It wouldn’t hurt nearly as much as what I’d done to my brother, and myself.

The next morning Taeral refused to even look at me, much less speak to me. In fact, no one had much to say. We packed up camp, such as it was, around seven and headed deeper into the old silver mine. Five more miles, give or take, until we found out what was waiting at the other end.

We all expected a lot of guys with a lot of guns. No one wanted to say that out loud, though.

The first hour went by in silence. I was at the front of the line with Calla just behind me and off to the side, while Chester and Rex walked in tandem after us. Sadie hovered some distance away from them as close as she dared to Taeral, who hung back to bare minimum shouting length and shuffled forward with his gaze on the ground.

Someone tapped my shoulder, and I glanced back into Chester’s worried face. “What’s up?” I said without breaking stride.

“Er. Mind if I talk to you?” He flashed a sidelong glance at Calla. “Sort of alone? It’s kind of … you know. Sensitive.”

Calla looked ready to object, but I patted her arm and lifted a wan smile. “It’s okay, as long as you don’t mind,” I said. I had a feeling he wanted to discuss something less than manly, like the fact that he was probably scared shitless — same as the rest of us — and he didn’t want anyone of the female persuasion to hear it.

She smirked. “Fine. Have your little boy talk, then,” she said, kissing the corner of my mouth before she fell back next to Rex. At least I knew this version of ‘fine’ was indulgent instead of pissed.

Chester and I picked up the pace, pulling ahead enough that a quiet discussion wouldn’t be overheard. And then he surprised me by talking about something completely unexpected.

“I, uh … well, you know me. I’m not much of a people person. Relationships aren’t my thing, really,” he began, and then cleared his throat awkwardly. “But I like you, and I like your brother. You’re both good men. Er, you know. Fae. So I thought maybe I could give you some advice from an old man?”

I blinked a few times. “Okay, sure.”

“Right. Here goes.” He took a deep breath. “You’re kind of an idiot.”

His blunt statement startled a laugh from me. “Yeah, I already knew that,” I said. “Good talk, I guess.”

“I’m not done.” Chester pursed his lips, and his eyes narrowed slightly in thought. “I had a brother once, you know,” he said. “Died about ten years ago. Heart attack.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He flapped a hand. “Thanks, but that ain’t the point. Here’s what I’m trying to say.” He shook his head as a fond, absent smile crossed his lips. “I’ve fought with plenty of women, enemy soldiers, strangers in bars, even my best friends,” he said. “Got bruised and bloodied, had my feelings hurt a time or two. But nobody, and I mean nobody, ever hurt me as bad as Charlie could. Charlie … that’s my brother. Mean old son of a bitch, he was.”

“You know, this really isn’t helping,” I said. “You’re kind of just rubbing it in.”

“Hang on now,” he said, holding a finger in the air. “Yeah, Charlie could draw blood with a handful of well-placed words. But he also had my back when it counted. Just like I had his. When my wife died after I got back from the war, he left his own family two states away and moved in with me for three goddamned weeks, making sure I ate and showered and put clothes on every day, and generally didn’t grieve myself into the ground next to her.” He paused with tears standing in his eyes.

When he didn’t go on, I gripped his shoulder gently. “You okay, Chester?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. God, I loved that woman.” He sniffed a little, and then pulled himself together. “Anyway, that son of a bitch refused to leave my house until I could stand on my own again — even when I lashed out trying to make him go, wounded him real bad. I could cut just as deep as him, because he was my brother. You see what I’m saying?”

“Um.” I frowned. “Not exactly.”

He made a small, exasperated sound. “Nobody can hurt us as bad as family. The people we love,” he said. “Because all those hurtful things, they only matter when you care so damned much about the person saying them. If I didn’t love Charlie more’n almost anyone in the world, nothing he said would’ve bothered me. But it did, and I still forgave him every time … because no matter what came out of his mouth, I always knew he loved me, too.” He shrugged. “Words are cheap weapons, and they can never stand up against actions. The only thing that matters is what you do.”

Okay. Now I got it.

“Thanks, Chester,” I finally said. “I think I’ll go talk to my brother.”

He nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

I stepped off to the side of the tunnel, letting everyone else walk past. Sadie gave me a pained look on the way, and I tried to convey my intentions with a smile that didn’t quite make it. She seemed to understand.

Taeral slowed as he approached me. “You’ve no need to apologize,” he murmured without looking up. “I am certain you did not mean what you said.”

“No, I really don’t think you are certain about that. In fact, I know you’re not.” I stood in front of him, blocking his path and forcing him to look at me. “It wasn’t your fault, period,” I said. “And I’m the world’s biggest asshole.”

He sighed. “Must we do this now?”

“Yes, we must,” I said, and threw my arms around him. “Go on, call me an asshole. You know you want to.”

Taeral stiffened for a few seconds before he relented and hugged me back. “Is féid a diab’hael thrúc d’hromae,” he said roughly.

It was a Fae curse, and it meant something like ‘may the devil break your spine.’

Close enough.

“All right, man,” I said as I stepped back. “Seriously, I know there isn’t enough sorry in the world, but I’m sorry anyway.” I knew damned well he’d still carry the guilt around heavier than usual for a while, but at least it was a start. “For now, let’s get the hell out of this tunnel.”

He nodded and gestured ahead. “Lead the way.”

“Think I’ll hang back here with you for a bit,” I said. “Chester and Rex, they’ve got this.”

Taeral’s expression strongly disagreed, but he shrugged as he fell into step.

The rest of the group had stopped about ten feet ahead. When we headed toward them, they broke apart and looked everywhere but at us, like they definitely hadn’t been watching the whole bro-hug thing. They milled around for a bit, until Sadie corralled them and got the procession moving again.

“So, brother,” Taeral said as we trailed behind the others. “What’s prompted this sudden display of affection? I do hope you’ve not decided to sacrifice yourself regardless, and simply not tell anyone until we can do nothing to stop you.”

His words hit a little too close to home. For most of last night, I’d been thinking exactly that. But eventually I’d settled on offering to join Milus Dei only as a last-minute strategy if everything else failed. “Let’s just say it’s not my first choice,” I hedged carefully. “As for the affection, I guess I have a serious case of the feels.”

Taeral smirked, but the half-smile fell away fast. “I feel something powerful,” he said, the words dragging from his throat.

“Yeah, I know.” My stomach gave a little twist. “I never should’ve opened my big mouth. But I swear to God, I didn’t mean—”

“Not that, you fool. I am saying that I feel a great power. From there.” He pointed ahead. “Can you not sense it?”

I started to say no, but then I felt it … and I wondered how the hell I’d missed it before now. It was a kind of thrumming wave, a kaleidoscope suggestion of light and sound and energy that infused everything around us. And I had no idea how I could tell, but it was old. As old as the earth.

“You do feel it,” Taeral said, watching my face. “Perhaps it is him … Dante?”

I shook my head slowly. “He wasn’t anything like this. His power was cold, like a stone. This is like …”

“Fire,” Taeral half-whispered.

“Yeah. That.”

We broke into a run and caught up with the others, stopping them. “Guys, there’s something up there,” I said. “No idea what, except that it’s really strong and it’s not Dante.”

“Great,” Chester grumbled. “I don’t suppose you could make us all invisible, could you?”

“Uh, no,” I said, kind of wishing we’d brought some more backup after all. Like Donatti and Ian. The djinn had invisibility spells and a bunch of other useful stuff we didn’t — they could also fly, and travel any distance in seconds through mirrors. But I wouldn’t have felt right asking them to risk their lives for a sword.

We’d have to work with what was available. Which, at the moment, was guns.

I pulled mine and held it up briefly. “Just be ready to shoot anything that looks threatening,” I said as I lowered the gun to my side. Then I remembered Rex hadn’t been there when Santa Chester was passing out Uzis. “Rex, how are you on weapons right now?”

“Are you kidding?” He reached into his jacket with both hands and produced two very large handguns. “This here’s Huff, and that’s Puff,” he said, shaking the monster guns one at a time. “And we will blow your ass down.”

I grinned. “Got it. Let’s do this.”

The tunnel rose up gradually for about another quarter of a mile and came to a wood-framed doorway. Taeral and I had taken the lead, and we gestured to slow the pace as we approached the frame. What was beyond it gradually came into view.

It was a large, dug-earth room with mine tunnels leading off in separate directions from each of the four walls, including the one we were in. Torches blazed above the tunnels. There was a small jumble of rusted mining carts pushed into a corner, but the center of the room was obviously the main attraction. A barred prison cell with five padlocks on the door — and inside, a broad-shouldered, stout figure about four and a half feet tall, coarse and gray-streaked black hair falling to its waist, standing in the center with its back to us.

The figure pivoted slowly as we eased through the doorway. It — he — had a long beard that matched his hair, with bits of twigs and leaves and what looked suspiciously like bone fragments braided into it at varying intervals. Thick, dark curled horns, like a ram’s, protruded from either side of his forehead. He wore layers of black with a knotted leather belt and massive black boots. His skin was mahogany, his face made of old leather and disgust as he glared at us with bright red, slotted goat’s pupils set in black eyes.

“Ye’re Fae,” the short creature hissed in a voice like a crackling bonfire. “Should’ve just let those infants kill ye, even if ye do have our lodestone.”

“What the hell…?” Is that, I failed to finish saying.

“That,” Taeral said with a distinct blend of amazement and horror, “is a dwarf.”

Chapter 19

“The tunnel,” I said. “That was you?”

The dwarf snorted. When he did, actual smoke plumed from his nostrils. “That was a mistake. If I’d known what ye were, I wouldn’t have saved ye. Especially that one.” He jerked his chin at Taeral, making the bones in his beard rattle. “Unseelie thief.”

“Thief!” Taeral took a step toward the cage.

“Aye, thief. Ye bear the lodestone, don’t ye?” His red pupils flared like demonic camera flashes. “Thick as the Fair Folk are, ye must know a gem that controls metal can only belong to dwarvenkind.”

“It belonged to my father, you—”

“Okay,” I said loudly. “First off, thanks for saving us, even if you didn’t mean to. And second … er, you seem to be a prisoner. So it’s only fair if we save you, too.”

“Save me!” The dwarf threw his head back and bellowed laughter, and I could’ve sworn I saw flames in his throat. “A wee halfling Fae bairn, an Unseelie thief, and … whatever ye lot are,” he said, his unsettling eyes flicking contemptuously across the others. “Humans, save for the moon cub, there.”

Sadie didn’t even bristle at the name-calling. She was too busy staring in fascination.

I gave a deliberate cough. “Uh, yeah. Save you,” I said. “You know, from the locked cage you’re in? I can open that.”

The dwarf raised his thick eyebrows. “And ye think I can’t?”

“Erm.” I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “If you can, why are you in there?”

“Because it amuses me.” He pointed at the ceiling. “The hairless apes up there, they think they’re punishing me. I let ’em have their fun.”

“You mean Milus Dei,” I said.

“Aye, that’s what they call themselves.”

I frowned. “So … just to be clear, you don’t want to be rescued,” I said. “You want us to leave you here.”

“Like I said. Thick.” The dwarf tapped the side of his head, and then huffed smoke from his nose. “Faekyn offering to help a dwarf,” he grumbled. “As if Holdrun Sootbrow sought help from the Fair Folk when he created the Great Forge of Bharduhn, or when he battled the armies of the Dagdha across the dark plains of Ulna Scaeth. He’ll require nothing from ye lot to breach this prison.”

“Uh, right.” I glanced back at Taeral, who shrugged slowly. He had no idea what any of that meant, either. “So I guess this Holdrun Sootbrow guy can save you, then.”

The dwarf’s face plunged into a scowl. “Holdrun Sootbrow does not need saving! Get on with ye, halfling child, and take yer skulking thief and load of monkeys with ye.”

It finally dawned on me. “You’re Holdrun Sootbrow.”

“That’s right,” the dwarf said smugly.

Taeral sneered. “Is that name supposed to impress us, dwarf?”

“Scourge of Aghaeland? High master of forge and flame, Oathkeeper of the Western Gate?” Holdrun crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “My name is legend throughout the lands of Arcadia. How have ye not heard of me?”

“Um. Okay.” I winced and turned away, hustling everyone back toward the edge of the room. When we were out of the dwarf’s earshot, I said, “Well, now we know where the tunnel came from, so there’s that. Anyone have an idea about how to get into their base from here?”

“Why don’t we ask him?” Calla said with a nod in Holdrun’s direction.

“He doesn’t seem very … cooperative. And he wants to be left alone.”

Sadie stared at me. “So we’re really going to just leave him in that cage?”

“Aye, love. We are.” Taeral sent a flat look across the room at the dwarf, who’d turned his back to us again. “If there is any true legend attached to the dwarves, it is that they are extraordinarily stubborn. It’s clear he wants nothing to do with us. Besides, he did claim to be perfectly capable of rescuing himself.”

“Yeah, I think we’re on our own here,” I said, not without regret. I did want to help him. But how was I supposed to save someone who refused to be saved? “Anyway, we have to get up there somehow,” I said.

Rex stepped forward. “Well, we know which tunnel not to use,” he said. “That leaves three. We could pair off and head down them—”

“And how are we gonna let anyone else know what we find, or when we need backup?” Chester interrupted. “All the walkies were in the damned Hummer, and I don’t know about you, but I ain’t got the hang of telepathy yet.”

“Look, we have no idea what we’re walking into here,” I said. “They could have a dozen more soldiers up there, or a hundred. And with sort-of-Dante in the mix, I don’t want to risk any more than we have to. We need to find Fragarach and get out.”

“So, ye seek the Answerer,” Holdrun’s voice boomed out across the room. “Might be I can help ye with that.”

I guessed we weren’t out of his earshot, after all.

As I opened my mouth to answer him, Taeral grabbed my shoulder. “Do not be quick to trust a dwarf,” he said. “They’ve no integrity to speak of, and they are not known for upholding bargains.”

“I heard that, thief. As if a Fae has any room to speak of integrity.”

I sighed. “I’m not sure we have much of a choice,” I said to Taeral. “If he knows anything about this place, it’s a lot more than we’ve got right now.”

He let go of me, but his expression was uneasy. “I suppose you are right.”

I headed back toward the cage, and the rest of them followed. Holdrun watched me with a knowing smirk. “Ye want the Fae-killer, then,” he said. “For what? Looking to settle some clan grudge, are ye?”

“We just don’t want Milus Dei to have it,” I said. “They’re trying to make more.”

“Aye. That’s why I’m in this box.” The dwarf’s expression darkened. “They’ve brought in some lord of humans who tried to force me to recreate the Answerer. I refused, of course. That’s blasphemy, copying another dwarf’s weapon — even if it was crafted by my own grandfather. I could do it, but I will not.” He snorted more smoke. “So here I am in this ridiculous excuse for a cage, instead of my lovely forge upstairs.”

“Hold on. You live here, with Milus Dei? On purpose?”

Holdrun shrugged. “They call me a prisoner,” he said. “I could leave, if I wanted to. But why bother? My world is gone, and I’ve not seen another dwarf for centuries. So I make toys for the monkeys and let them think they’re in control.”

I tried not to think too hard about why any Other would hang around these bastards if they weren’t being forced to, or what kind of ‘toys’ he’d been making for them. And we didn’t have time for a discussion. “Look, can you help us get the sword, or not?” I said.

“Aye. Been here for years, haven’t I? I know my way around this place,” Holdrun said. “But I’ll need something in return.”

Somehow I knew what he wanted, but I had to ask anyway. “And that would be…?”

“I’ll have our lodestone back from that one,” he said, pointing at Taeral.

Being right really sucked sometimes.

Of course, there was zero chance of that happening. I started to tell him forget it, we’d find another way, but then Taeral interrupted me. “Very well, dwarf. I shall give you the lodestone,” he said. “After we’ve taken this place and obtained Fragarach … and you have destroyed it.”

“Taeral, what are you doing?” I blurted. “You can’t give it to him.”

“I can, and I will.” Taeral walked toward the cage and stood less than a foot from the bars, staring coldly at the dwarf. “Fragarach must be destroyed,” he said. “And that which is made by the dwarves, can only be unmade by them. Is that not so, Holdrun?”

“Aye, it’s so,” Holdrun said with a touch of caution in his tone as his gaze moved to Taeral’s metal arm, as if he was seeing it for the first time. “But I won’t take the word of a Fae. Ye’ll promise me the stone, Unseelie.”

“Don’t,” I said. “No more promises.” The Fae could die if they failed to keep a promise a fact I was sure Holdrun was aware of. That was exactly why I’d made sure Taeral was released from his promise to protect me. I refused to let him die for me, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him die for this surly stranger.

But Taeral ignored me, lifted his arm and traced a finger across his chest in the shape of an X, leaving glowing white contrails that sunk into his skin. “I swear it,” he said. “Help us defeat these humans and destroy Fragarach, and the lodestone is yours.”

“Goddamn it, Taeral!” I knew he absolutely did not want to give the stone away. It was not only one of a kind, but part of a unique set: the lodestone, the firestone, and the master stone, my pendant. Our father, Daoin, had the firestone — and they were sentient. The stones chose their own masters, and the lodestone had chosen Taeral.

His promise to give it to Holdrun would hurt him, whether or not he fulfilled it.

Taeral looked at me, pale but determined. “If we simply take the weapon, Milus Dei will stop at nothing to get it back. Fragarach would allow them to slaughter our kind without compunction, should they succeed in duplicating the sword. It must be destroyed.” He flashed a wry smile. “And I am not acquainted with any other dwarves besides this one.”

“Guys!” Sadie cut in suddenly. “I think we’re about to have company.”

Holdrun flashed an unpleasant grin. “The ears on that one,” he said. “Aye, she’s right. They’ll be coming to bring me before their puny lord again. Oh, and they come in packs. Because I’m such a dangerous prisoner.” He cut his gaze toward the tunnel to his left. “Ye’d best kill them all quickly, if ye don’t want them calling for the rest.”

That was when I heard the echoes of footsteps and murmured conversation drifting from the mouth of the tunnel — and then a shout, followed by running.

Chapter 20

Kill them all quickly.

Holdrun’s words remained in my head, an echo of the dark, furious need that had been burning through my soul ever since I’d heard the first screams of the dead in Basin Springs. Not just to save them, but to avenge them. To tear through these butchers of women and children and take their lives in payment for the ones they’d ripped away from the innocent.

To punish them, and myself, because I’d been too late. Again.

As the sound of running drew closer, I heard the others drawing back, looking for cover, readying their guns to defend themselves. But I wasn’t having it — not this time. Jaw clenched, I strode toward the tunnel with one hand outstretched while I drew the Uzi with the other.

“Gideon, stop!” Taeral shouted.

I ignored him.

The first few rushed into the open, three black-clad soldiers with guns already pointed. Their attention was focused on the cage, so they didn’t notice me until I gestured at the closest one in a wide arc. “Mahrú à dionadth,” I snarled.

An opaque shield smashed him across the room, crushing him into bristly human paste against the far wall.

Gunshots sounded. I wasn’t sure who they came from, but I raised my gun and fired at the next in line until he went down. By now more had emerged from the tunnel, maybe a dozen total. The man behind the one I’d shot took aim at me, fired and missed.

I flicked a hand at him. “Míilé brihs!”

He screamed and crumpled to the ground as a thousand cuts split his skin.

“Gideon!” Taeral was right next to me, gun in hand. He shot and dropped one of the growing crowd who’d drawn a bead on him. “Have you gone mad?”

“Mad. That’s a good word,” I said as bullets sprayed all around us. “Not quite strong enough, though.”

“What—” Taeral broke off with a pained snarl and clutched his thigh.

“Goddamn it, did they hit you?” The fury blazed through me, and I dropped my gun and stepped forward, sweeping both arms in front of me. “Ahmac àn beahlac!”

The rest of the soldiers were jerked into the air and slammed against various surfaces. Ceiling, walls, floor. One of them hit the wooden frame at the mouth of the tunnel they’d come through, and I heard his neck snap.

Taeral stared at me in shock. “It was only a graze, you know.”

“They’re not hurting anyone else,” I spat. “Ever.”

His expression grew solemn. “Understood.”

I scooped the Uzi back up. Just as I tensed to run at the recovering soldiers, something furry and snarling blurred past me — Sadie in full wolf mode. She pounced on the first black-clad figure she came to, her teeth headed for his throat.

Taeral and I were right behind her.

The rest was a blur of bullets, blows, and crushing shields as I surrendered to the Fae side, the part of me that craved battle and bloodshed. My heart pounded, my blood roared, and the sounds of the fight faded beneath the memory of all those screams and gruesome flashes of death.

I was about to crush a bloodied soldier who looked like he might be able to draw another breath or two when a hand grabbed my arm. “Gideon,” Taeral said in an oddly gentle tone. “Stand down, brother. It is done.”

“Right. Okay, I can do that. I think.” I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, willing the rage that still flooded me to ease off. There was pain somewhere beyond the anger, and I figured I’d probably taken a bullet or two at some point. But I’d live.

They wouldn’t.

Finally, I blinked my eyes open and looked around slowly. Fourteen or fifteen bodies, all of them Milus Dei. Taeral and Sadie a few feet away from me, on their feet and mostly unhurt. Sadie had changed back. Holdrun still in the cage, his red eyes fixed on me, and Calla half-blocking Rex and Chester from rushing across the room. I was grateful for that. At the moment, I didn’t think I could speak to anyone civilly.

I was still feeling too much like a Fae to be polite.

“All right, let’s get the dwarf out,” I said, half-pivoting to head for the cage.

Holdrun tilted his head slightly as I approached. “That was interesting,” he said. “Quite the entertainment ye’ve provided, halfling.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.” I stopped in front of the door and the five locks holding it closed. “Those aren’t cold iron, are they?”

“Nae, but ye’d best let me take care of them,” he said. “The locks have a powerful warding.”

I frowned. “They can cast wards?”

Holdrun shook his head. “Cast ’em myself. I’d planned to have a good laugh when they tried to open them.” He took a few paces toward the door and stopped. “Ye may want to step back a bit, child.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, shuffling back a few feet. “How’s this?”

“That’ll do.” Holdrun drew in a huge, gasping breath, pursed his lips like he was sucking through an invisible straw — and then spit out a stream of roaring fire that almost instantly melted the locks and the bars they were attached to.

Oh, good. A fire-breathing dwarf.

“I’d no idea they could do that,” Taeral muttered from beside me.

Holdrun stretched his arms behind his back and ambled through the cage door as it creaked open. “Well, that’s that,” he said. “I’ll lead ye up there, but ye’d best hold up your end of the bargain, Unseelie.”

“Aye, you know I will,” Taeral said with narrowed eyes.

Chester cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Did he just … breathe fire?”

“Hey, look who’s caught up!” Rex laughed and clapped him on the back. “Have to say, I don’t think I’ve seen that trick before. And I’ve seen a lot.”

Holdrun glanced at them and shook his head. “Humans. So easily impressed,” he said. “Are we going, or what?”

“Hold on. There’s something I have to do first,” I said, remembering the conversation I had with Calla last night. About wanting to know why.

I’d planned to ask over their dead bodies. Now I had plenty of them.

I walked to the nearest corpse, a soldier who lay facedown in a pool of blood soaking into the ground — the first one Sadie had gotten to, I thought. It only took a few seconds of focusing to cast a glamour, draw his soul into my head and push it back onto the projection. The dead soldier seemed to stand. He shook his head once and looked at me without expression.

“What devilry is this?” I heard Holdrun grate somewhere behind me.

“Don’t worry. He’s still dead,” Calla told him.

I tuned them out to focus on the soldier, who hadn’t even tried to speak. He looked maybe forty, with a clean shave and a no-nonsense buzz cut. His stare was rock-solid, unblinking. “What’s your name?” I said to him.

There was a strong tug in my head as he tried to resist my question. Unfortunately for him, that was impossible. “David,” he finally said.

“Okay, David. Did you help kill the people in Basin Springs?”

More struggling. His lips strained to stay closed, but eventually he spit out, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t understand.”

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t understand.”

He rolled out the words robotically, like he was reading them off something, and it was my turn to stare. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The dead couldn’t lie to me, and they had to answer when I asked a question.

I decided to try again. “Why did you kill them?”

“I don’t understand.”

Frustration spiked through me, and I almost grabbed for my gun to shoot him on general principle. How the hell was he doing this? I forced myself to think, to replay the conversation, and remembered a previous interrogation with a Milus Dei soldier who’d managed to duck a few questions — because I hadn’t been specific enough. He’d found a loophole.

And it seemed like these men had been trained to exploit that loophole a lot further.

I blew a breath out through my nose. “Let’s put this another way,” I said. “Why did you kill the people in Basin Springs?”

This time he struggled, sending sharp needles of pain through my head. He lasted almost a minute before he said, “Orders.”

“Whose orders?”

“I don’t under—”

“Who ordered you to kill people in Basin Springs, goddamn it?”

The soldier grimaced. “The Hand of the God.”

Yusef, then. I stared at him for a minute, trying to formulate my next question so he couldn’t dodge it. “All right, David, here’s the million-dollar question,” I said. “For what reason did the Hand of the God order everyone in Basin Springs killed?”

The pain in my head flared bright, and blood dripped from a nostril. “The pilot,” he gasped. “Told someone about … the mission. We didn’t know who. So we killed … all of them. Secured our location.”

My gut plunged, and I glanced back at the rest of them. I really hoped Rex hadn’t heard that. There was a chance it wasn’t true, that it was only what this soldier had been told. The dead spoke their own truths. But even if they really had done it because he’d told someone — that someone likely being Chester — Rex didn’t need to feel like the slaughter of his whole town was his fault.

“Those people were innocent,” I said. “Tell me this. Did you want to kill them?”

He didn’t even try to resist. He just grinned. “Yes.”

At least I was justified in what I’d done to them in return. But it didn’t make me feel better, about any of it.

“Enjoy the rest of your death, asshole,” I grated as I pulled his soul back and released him. His ‘body’ shivered and dropped to the ground, and as I turned back to the others, their faces told me they’d heard. And understood.

“It wasn’t your fault, Rex,” I said.

His face twisted. “Think I don’t know that? It’s their fault, sick bastards.” He stalked past me, jerking one of his guns out as he went, and stood over David’s corpse. “Die some more, you fucking human stain,” he growled, and proceeded to plug an entire clip into the dead man.

No one tried to stop him.

When Rex finished, he turned around calmly and replaced the gun. “Let’s grab their gear before we head out,” he said. “Guns, ammo, any keys or badges or swipe cards they might have on ’em. I want this whole place smashed flat by the time we’re through.”

“Good call,” I said. “Do it.”

Chapter 21

“So,” Holdrun said, “what was that business with the dead monkey?”

The dwarf had brought us into the tunnel across from the one we’d used to get there. Not the one the soldiers had come from, he’d said, because there would only be more of them waiting. So we were taking the back way. Even though part of me still wanted to bash through the front door, wherever it was, and slaughter everything that moved.

Now he was staring at me, and I realized I hadn’t answered his question. “Oh, right, the soldier,” I said. “I’m the DeathSpeaker.”

“Aye. Of course.” Holdrun frowned. “That’d be what, then? Are ye Sluagh, or maybe some kind of necromancer?”

“Uh, no. Just the DeathSpeaker.”

“Heard that the first time. Doesn’t make any more sense, just because ye said it again.”

I almost laughed. I’d never had to explain what I was, since everyone seemed to know that the DeathSpeaker was a thing. Now I knew how Holdrun felt when we failed to recognize his name. “It’s kind of a title. Like a job,” I said. “I can talk to the dead and compel them to answer questions.”

“But ye can’t bring them back?” The dwarf made a face. “Useless, then. Bit of a shite job too, if ye ask me.”

“Yeah, it can be sometimes.” I glanced over my shoulder at the line behind us, trying to gauge how everyone was holding up. Mostly they were worried, angry, and exhausted, and we still had a long way to go. But before we got to the base, there was something I wanted to ask the dwarf. “Hey, Holdrun. Got any idea why that sword is called the Answerer?”

He looked thoughtful. “Well, it’s not my weapon,” he said. “No dwarf truly understands a weapon that isn’t his own, and we’d certainly never use one that belonged to another.” He shuddered, as if picking up some other dwarf’s sword was as disgusting as refusing to bathe for the rest of your life. “But there is a verse about Fragarach in the ‘Ballad of Kharzal Gorm,’ somewhere.”

“Ballad?”

“Aye, that’s right. Dwarf, remember?” He hooked a thumb at his chest. “We write bloody great songs about everything. Now, be silent and give me a moment. Kharzal Gorm’s got six hundred and four farkin’ verses to go through.”

He started humming under his breath.

From just behind me, Calla whispered, “Did he say six hundred and four?”

“Yup. He did.”

“That’s gotta be, like, ten hours long,” Sadie said. “At least.”

Taeral grunted. “We do not have ten hours to spare for a dwarf song.”

“Hush, ye babbling fools!” Holdrun’s red eyes flared, and smoke steamed from his nose. “Do ye want to know the verse, or not? Now I’ve got to start over.”

Everyone hushed.

After five minutes or so of silent walking punctuated by tuneless humming, Holdrun stopped and held up a hand. “All right. I’ve come to it,” he said. “No one speak, or I’ll lose the thread again.”

We all bunched up in the tunnel and stared at the dwarf, who cleared his throat and started to chant.

“Never flame nor forge ’twas set,

But hammer and might, and sweat of brow,

And sharp of stone, the true edge cleaves.

A single blow destroys the spark,

The Answerer defends the just,

But will not strike that which is stilled.”

There was a long pause after he finished, and then Rex broke the silence. “That was a song?” he said. “It doesn’t even rhyme.”

“Well, it rhymes in dwarvish,” Holdrun snapped. “Anyway, that’s all I know about the Answerer. If ye want more, ye’d have to ask my grandfather. Except he’s dead.” He looked at me. “But ye could ask him, couldn’t ye? Being the DeathTalker and all.”

I didn’t bother correcting him. “It doesn’t exactly work like that,” I said. “I have to be near the dead person to contact them. So unless your grandfather is buried around here somewhere, I can’t talk to him.”

“Huh,” he grumbled. “Like I said, useless.”

“Dwarf. Your verse says that Fragarach destroys the spark,” Taeral said. “That must be how it kills in one blow, but even cold iron cannot do that. Is it enchanted?”

“How should I know? I’ve told ye, I didn’t craft the damned thing,” he said.

“But you claimed you could replicate it.”

“Aye, and I can,” he said. “No doubt I could copy the spellwork, too, if it’s there. But it’s the form they’re after, not the function. That’s all these monkeys want — something shiny to fawn over, hang on their walls and impress each other. They know nothing.” His slotted eyes rolled in a disconcerting circle. “Why, when I first met this lot in the Old World, they didn’t even know to use cold iron and mandrake against the Fae. Had to teach them how to work with the stuff.”

Taeral stiffened and went pale. “You did what?” he whispered.

“Showed ’em a few things,” Holdred said with a dismissive shrug, apparently unaware of how much he’d just pissed off my brother — and me. “I mean, really, look at the poor weak bastards. If ye were them, wouldn’t ye want to know how to defend yerselves from the likes of … well, you?”

“Defend themselves!” Taeral roared loud enough to force everyone a step back. “You ignorant, self-important, bloated sack of filth. Have you any idea what these ‘poor weak bastards’ have done to our kind? To all of Otherkyn, no doubt including your own people? They do not defend. They destroy.”

Holdrun looked startled, but he recovered fast. “Oh, save it,” he said. “I’ve just seen yer DeathTalker here drop a dozen of them without so much as a hard breath, and he’s only a halfling. What does a Fae have to fear from humans?”

“You really want to know?” I stopped Taeral with a hand on his shoulder, before he could lunge at the dwarf and rip his heart out like he probably wanted to. “How about nine months of torture and losing an arm, and having to give your infant brother to strangers to keep him safe, because these guys were really itching to murder a baby? Or how about being forced to kill your own mother, because they wanted to know if one werewolf could take out another?” I moved toward him, my throat clenching. “How about twenty-six years locked in a cold iron box, tortured and starved, broken again and again, slowly reprogrammed to murder your son the next time you saw him? And if that’s not enough … how about the slaughter of hundreds, thousands of Others, with the ultimate goal of exterminating every non-human on the planet?” I glared at Holdrun. “So yeah, we have a few concerns about humans. At least the ones who call themselves Milus Dei.”

“And you have helped them refine their ‘techniques’,” Taeral nearly growled. “Gideon spoke of our father, who endured all those years at their hands. Keep in mind, dwarf, that it is my father’s lodestone I’ll be forced to give you once you’ve upheld your end of the bargain.”

There was a long, heavy pause while no one spoke, and I kept my gaze on Holdrun. I felt awful bringing up Sadie’s mother, but I wanted to make sure he understood exactly who these people were, and why bringing them down meant so much to us. Why they had to be stopped.

Finally, Holdrun drew himself up to full height — which wasn’t much, considering. “I’ll concede that I might have been somewhat remiss in sharing knowledge with the humans,” he said with something that approached sincerity. “But I won’t be held for what happened to yer father, or that one’s mother, or anyone’s baby brother or bloody arm. Ye hear? If not me, they’d have only found it somewhere else.”

I nodded reluctantly. Though I was still pissed, I could see his point.

“By the bye,” Holdrun said, his gaze flicking to the bloody arm in question. “That’s a fine piece of craftsmanship ye’ve got there. Ciraendyl’s work, isn’t it?”

Taeral blinked. “Who?”

“That ungodly conflagration of metal and madness in that castle up the Highlands,” he said. “’Twas Orlon Frostbeard concocted the whole mess. Named it after his dearly departed wife. Dotty woman, loved her tea.” He looked from Taeral to me. “Surely ye’ve heard of —”

“The mirror mender?” I blurted.

“Aye, that’s what most call her now. And this is her work.” Holdrun stretched a hand in the direction of the gold prosthetic. “I may be persuaded to take that arm in trade, rather than the lodestone.”

Taeral jerked away before he could touch it. “Absolutely not.”

“As ye please, then.” The dwarf shrugged, pivoted on a heel and headed further down the tunnel. “Come on, you lot. We’ve not much longer to glorious battle.”

Well, if he put it that way … I could hardly wait.

Chapter 22

Soon enough, Holdrun led us through the tunnel wall — or at least that’s what it looked like. It was another magic-dug tunnel leading straight out from the right-side wall of the mine shaft, but you couldn’t see the entrance unless you were directly in front and really looking for it. From there it was a short crawl to a rope ladder, leading to a hatch above.

He’d only made this tunnel tall enough for a dwarf.

The hatch opened into what I assumed was Holdrun’s forge, judging from the anvil and tools and the massive fire pit heaped with glowing coals in the center of the space. There were barrels and crates and chests, piles of metal bars and scraps, iron pots of all sizes, and a living area tucked into a corner with a bed, table and chair, and a small set of shelves filled with old books, figurines, and rolled parchments. A net made of coarse rope with sticks and leaves woven into it hung from the ceiling, partially obscuring the bedroom area. Three of the walls were stone, and the fourth was metal with a massive door set into it.

“Just need to gather a few things before we head out to find that sword,” Holdrun said when he’d closed the hatch after everyone climbed up. “Don’t ye lot touch anything, now.”

As the dwarf headed across the room, humming tunelessly again, we ambled further in and looked around. I caught Taeral watching Holdrun with narrowed eyes and hung back to stand next to him. “You okay?” I said quietly.

“Fine.” His gaze didn’t leave the dwarf, who was now whistling as he rummaged through a crate, pulled out a variety of short knives and stuck them in his belt. “I am simply curious as to why Milus Dei would afford a prisoner such comfortable accommodations, and apparently fail to notice that the prisoner can leave and return to his cell at will.” He sent a meaningful glance at the hatch we’d come through, which wasn’t hidden in any way.

“Yeah, good points.” I watched as Holdrun walked to the far wall, shoved a few barrels aside, and grabbed a long-handled bronze sledgehammer carved with not-exactly-Fae runes. It looked like a hell of a weapon.

Taeral’s jaw clenched. “We may need to subdue him,” he said. “Though I’m not certain we can, should he choose to turn against us. He’s too much power.”

A shiver of unease moved through me. Taeral was right — if I focused on it, I could feel that immense magic we’d sensed in the tunnel even stronger in here. “Maybe you should go open that hatch back up,” I murmured. “If something goes wrong, we’ll just have to run. We’ll find another way in.”

Taeral nodded and moved toward the hatch.

I started for Calla and Sadie, who’d edged up to the central fire pit. Rex and Chester were off to the right, hovering around a suspiciously treasure-shaped box. Just as I reached the ladies, Holdrun turned and swung the bronze hammer up to his shoulder. His gaze skipped from me to Taeral — who was trying to tug the hatch open, but nothing was happening. “Oh, did I forget to tell ye, Unseelie?” he said casually. “Ye’ll not be able to open that. I’ve warded it.”

Taeral froze for an instant, and then straightened slowly with anger flashing in his eyes. “And why might you have done that, dwarf?”

“I could tell ye, but where’s the fun in that?” He grinned and strolled toward the big metal door. “Just one more bit of a thing to handle, and then we’re off. Glorious battle awaits.”

“What’s going on?” Calla whispered, backing away from the fire pit toward me.

I shook my head and nudged Sadie. When they were both looking at me, I pointed toward Taeral and jerked my head in his direction, trying to tell them to get over there. Warded or not, I had a feeling we’d need to get that hatch open and go back down it. Soon.

Rex noticed what was happening, grabbed Chester’s sleeve and nodded at the dwarf, just as Holdrun reached the door and pushed some kind of button beneath the handle.

Immediately, a muffled alarm started blaring somewhere outside the room.

“Go!” I practically shoved Sadie into Calla, and then ran toward Chester and Rex. They’d both pulled their guns when the alarm went off. Now they started firing at Holdrun.

The bullets bounced off him and pinged around the room.

“Humans,” the dwarf grumbled, no longer smiling as he started in their direction. “Don’t ye worry, though. There will be no months of torture when they come for ye this time. Ye’ll just die.” He pointed at me with his free hand as he swung the heavy hammer back with the other. “Except for that one, of course.”

“Céa biahn!” I shouted, gesturing sharply at him. An unseen wind whipped his hair and beard around, when he should’ve gone flying across the room.

But he didn’t move.

“Feel free to try again, halfling. That magic won’t work on me, but ye’re welcome to exhaust yourself.” Holdrun snorted smoke from his nostrils, brushed himself off and started forward.

More gunfire erupted from Rex and Chester. This time one of the ricochets grazed my cheek and damn near took my ear off.

“We need to run,” I half-shouted, yanking Chester back as I turned him toward the rest of the group. Taeral was still struggling with the hatch, but it looked like he was getting somewhere. When Chester finally got the point and started moving, I manhandled Rex after him.

“Where d’ye think you’re going, children?” Holdrun grated from close behind me.

I saw Taeral grab the lodestone, watched a translucent purple glove form around his hand. He reached for the hatch again and yanked the handle hard.

This time it opened.

Then something slammed between my shoulder blades, and I hit the ground face-first.

“Gideon!” a female voice cried. My ears were ringing so much, I couldn’t tell if it was Calla or Sadie. But then I heard gunfire and a snarling wolf cry at the same time — so maybe it was both of them.

I couldn’t let them fight Holdrun. He said everyone was going to die except me, and I had a sinking suspicion he could definitely kill all of us if he felt like it.

“Get out of here!” I shouted as loud as I could, shoving myself off the ground. Pain surged through me with the movement, and I saw Sadie’s wolf loping toward me with Calla at her heels, still firing at the dwarf behind me.

A gout of molten flame shot past me, headed straight for Sadie.

I thrust an arm out. “À dionadth,” I called, and a transparent shield surged into existence a few feet in front of Sadie. She crashed into it from her side with a startled yelp. At nearly the same time, Holdrun’s fire splashed our side and drizzled down the shield like burning tears.

Calla slowed and bent to help Sadie. Her eyes met mine.

“Go,” I said. “They aren’t going to kill me. You’ll find another way.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Sadie half-growled. She was starting to change back, but she hadn’t quite achieved human form.

Calla jerked back, pulling Sadie with her. “Gideon, look out!”

I didn’t bother glancing back. I dropped to the floor, and the hammer swung through the space I’d just occupied, smashing the shield with a sound like a thunderclap.

As I rolled and jumped up again, Holdrun’s sledge caught me square in the chest. I heard ribs crack as the blow sent me hurling through the air — and straight into the netting that hung in front of the bedroom area. The net ripped free of whatever was holding it and wrapped around me as I crashed to the floor.

The strength drained out of me, leaving me gasping and nauseous. I struggled to roll over and realized that my skin had gone corpse-blue, my nails had lengthened to ragged points. I’d lost my glamour.

Whatever this net was, it had cancelled my magic.

Suddenly, Holdrun loomed over me. “Aye, I’ve made many toys for the humans, but I save the best for myself,” he said. “Fight all ye want, DeathSpeaker. That’s a rowan snare, and ye’ll not escape it.”

I noticed he’d gotten the name right this time.

“I guess you’re not actually interested in the lodestone, then,” I said through clenched teeth as I wiggled an arm toward my boot, and the knife I kept there. I’d have to pray the rest of them had gotten out. “Taeral only promised to give it to you if you helped us.”

“That he did. But there’s nothing to stop me from taking it off his corpse, is there?” The dwarf knelt and grabbed the wrist headed for the knife. “As for ye, they’ve got other plans.”

I swallowed. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m tired, halfling. So very tired of everything.” He drew back an arm. “I can promise ye this, though. Yer friends won’t suffer … much.”

With that, he drove a fist that felt like a hot stone into my jaw, and I knew nothing.

Chapter 23

Wherever they set up shop, Milus Dei apparently didn’t change the design of their labs much. Lots of chrome and glass, sinks and autopsy tables. I could’ve been in their New York or Pennsylvania facilities. Except for the dwarf in front of me, holding a knife.

I was standing in nothing but my boxers, pressed against a metal sheet stuck upright in the middle of the room. It had to be cold iron, judging from the way it burned. Couldn’t move my legs, my torso, or my outstretched left arm — it felt like I was strapped in place, but there were no visible restraints — and Holdrun was currently stretching my right arm out and against the metal while he carved unfamiliar runes like the ones on his hammer into my skin. More of the bloody symbols marched in straight lines down my chest, across my legs and left arm. And each time he finished one, the symbol lit with a faint red glow and tightened an invisible wire of magic around me.

The dwarf had to use a stepstool to reach my arm. I decided it probably wouldn’t be prudent to laugh.

“So,” I said, struggling not to wince as he started slicing again. “All that stuff about refusing to make copies of Fragarach and helping us destroy it, that was a bluff. A big load of bullshit.”

Holdrun paused to glare at me with burning red eyes, and then went back to cutting. “I don’t feel the need to explain myself, especially to the likes of ye,” he said. “I’ll not recreate the sword. That part’s true. But turn ye over to Dante? Aye, that I’ll do.”

I tried to hold back a shudder. The idea that Holdrun was on a first-name basis with this bastard did not bode well for me. “Why?” I managed in a tone that was close to normal.

“Again. I’ve no need to explain.” He glanced at me and shrugged. “But ye seem calm for a halfling bairn who’s bound for endless torment, so I’ll tell ye. Dante’s sworn to end my life in exchange for delivering the DeathSpeaker. Which is yerself.” He frowned slightly. “If ye lied to me about that title, now’s the time to come clean so ye can die quick.”

“Unfortunately, I’m still the DeathSpeaker,” I sighed. A sharp hiss escaped me as he finished another rune and a new unseen band tightened around my arm. “And if all you want is to die, I’d be more than happy to kill you,” I added with a growl.

“Ye can’t. Even if ye were strong enough, I’m protected from Fae magic.” He tapped at his chest, and for the first time I noticed the dark blue runes tattooed on his red-brown skin. A line of them started at the hollow of his throat and disappeared beneath his shirt.

Well, at least that explained why my spells did nothing to him. “Is there any particular reason you want to die?” I said.

Holdrun sighed, lowered his slicing arm and stared at the floor, still maintaining his boulder-like grip on my wrist. “Ten thousand years I’ve lived,” he said in a husky voice. “Seen all there is in all the realms, watched my people wither and die. Now I’m all that’s left, and this world … it’s cold and drab, cruel and petty. A reflection of the humans who’ve conquered it all and beat magic into submission. And what they’ve destroyed should fall to them. Let them revel alone in their filth and brutality, says I — which is just what Dante wants.” His jaw firmed, and he lifted his head. “If I were ye, I’d beg to join me in death. There’s nothing left here.”

There was a lot I could’ve said to that. But what I settled on was, “Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you? Because I still want to kill you.”

“Aye, I’m sure ye do,” he said. “But as I’ve mentioned, ye can’t. Ye don’t have the power. Dante does.”

He was probably right. But that wouldn’t have stopped me from trying, if I could move.

“If you’re so damned miserable with being alive, why don’t you just kill yourself?” I said as I attempted to brace for more flesh-carving. “I mean, unless you can’t physically take your own life like the Fae.”

“Dwarves are nothing like the bloody Folk,” he spat. “If ye weren’t but a splash of piss in the sewers of eternity, ye’d know that. And if I took my life by my own hand, I’d not be granted entrance to the Halls of Valhalla and reunited with my people.”

I decided that I didn’t have much left to lose, so I’d try a bluff of my own. “There’s no such thing as the Halls of Valhalla, you know,” I said. “When you die, there’s nothing waiting for you.”

“Lying Fae.” He slammed my wrist against the cold iron. “Keep yer filthy mouth closed, or I’ll shut it for ye.”

“I’m serious. You’re never going to see your people again, even if you don’t kill yourself,” I said. “There’s nothing on the other side. You’ll be alone, forever.”

“Be silent!” he roared. And rammed his horned head into my exposed stomach.

I couldn’t even curl up with the blow, and I damn near pissed myself.

“What does a speck of a Fae half-breed know of the afterlife?” Holdrun said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. “Nothing. That’s what.”

“Yeah, but I’m not just Fae,” I gasped. “I’m the DeathSpeaker. Remember? I know all about death, and there is no Valhalla. No happy reunion. No —”

I broke off with a muffled snarl as he plunged the short blade into my side.

“We’ll have no more of that talk, boy-child.” He twisted the knife, and I screamed. “Hear me?”

I managed to nod. At least I could still move my head.

“Right, then.” He yanked the blade free with an upward thrust and went back to carving me up.

Oh, yeah. I’d definitely gotten through to him.

With the fresh hole in my side and the cold iron still burning me, on top of everything else, I grayed out. Must not’ve been for long, because Holdrun was just starting to slice a rune into my palm when the world swam back into focus.

That was when I heard a door open.

I stiffened, expecting to see the Egyptian from my dream. Instead it was a white man who looked nothing like Yusef or Dante. He was blond, pale and sunburned, dressed in black linen and gleaming wingtip boots, with two guns holstered in a belt around his waist. All that was missing was a black ten-gallon hat, and he could’ve been an evil, fashion-conscious cowboy.

“Cavanaugh,” Holdrun muttered, hardly looking at the man. “Nearly finished.”

“Good, because Mr. Black and I have a lot to talk about.” The man called Cavanaugh — like Vivian, the medical examiner back home, though I doubted they were related — closed the door and walked toward me, scrutinizing me with wide-set brown eyes. “Where are his clothes, and whatever else he had on him?”

Holdrun pointed off to the side with the knife. I followed the gesture and saw an open file box on a counter against the far wall, with one sleeve of my shirt dangling over the side. He’d probably gotten rid of my weapons, but I’d have to hope the moonstone was in that box somewhere, for when I got out of this.

If I got out of this. I was starting to resign myself to the possibility of joining Milus Dei, after all — and I would join if I had to, as long as it meant my brother and my friends were safe. And my … whatever Calla was.

“That’s fine. I’ll go through them later,” Cavanaugh said, stopping about ten feet back. His gaze hadn’t left mine, and there was something hungry in his eyes. Like he’d been waiting a long time for this moment.

I had a sinking feeling this guy was a lot more prepared to detain and torture me than any of the other Milus Dei agents had been.

“Where is Dante?” Holdrun said, finally turning his head to look at the cowboy when he finished cutting my palm, and the symbol tacked my hand to the metal. “We’re supposed to conclude our business when I’m through binding this one.”

Cavanaugh flashed a sneer. “If you mean Yusef, he’s busy. Upstairs doing really important things, no doubt,” he said. “You’ll have to wait. I’m sure you’ll be summoned when he gets around to it. Probably.”

“Busy?” Holdrun echoed. His stone-like fingers tightened on my wrist hard enough to make me wince. “I won’t stand for being treated like one of ye lot, magister. I’ve done what was asked of me, brought in the DeathSpeaker — a feat none of you humans have proven capable of, despite being charged with the task. And I will have my payment. Now.”

“You’ll get it when, and if, he decides to give it to you. Just like the rest of us humans,” the man in black drawled. “Now, are you finished with that half-human filth? Mr. Black has a very full schedule today, and for the rest of whatever remains of his life.”

There went that sinking feeling again.

For a long moment Holdrun didn’t move. At last he said, “Nearly,” and looked directly at me.

I was tempted to ask what are you going to do now, carve my forehead? There wasn’t much left to mark up. But I watched as he raised the knife to my palm, and then slashed a shallow cut through the rune he’d carved there.

The glow from the symbol fizzled out and the magic strapping my hand down vanished, leaving me able to move it.

I held it in place against the cold iron, as if it was still restrained, and stared at the dwarf. He’d just showed me a way to get out of this — though I had no idea how I’d actually take advantage of this knowledge. Even if I had a knife in my one free hand, I wouldn’t be able to reach any of the other runes to cut them.

But he’d given me something to work with. Maybe. I wasn’t sure why, but I’d take the sliver of a chance.

“It’s finished,” Holdrun said, keeping my gaze a few seconds longer before he turned and stepped off the stool. “Have at him, then.”

Cavanaugh didn’t seem to notice that the dwarf had undone the last rune. “Oh, I will,” he said. “Please vacate my lab now, if you don’t mind. You stink of sulfur.”

Apparently, Holdrun was out of angry comebacks. He walked to the door, opened it and left, closing it almost gently.

And the pain of my immediate future surged into the room behind him.

Chapter 24

I kept my mouth shut for the moment and watched Cavanaugh drag a bunch of things in front of me from various places around the lab. A crash cart loaded with vials and black fabric cases and sharp objects, a machine with a pair of electrodes dangling from it that looked like it belonged next to a hospital bed. A plain wooden chair that he set up facing me, empty.

“For me?” I finally said. “Thanks. I wouldn’t mind taking a load off. Got a cold beer around here somewhere?”

Cavanaugh didn’t rise to the bait. “We’re just going to run a few preliminary, exhaustive batteries of tests on you for now, until he’s ready to see you,” he said, completely ignoring me. “Then we’ll go ahead and experiment with whatever’s left when he’s done.”

I tried to grin, but my face wouldn’t cooperate. “Only a few?”

“Oh, and don’t bother holding out hope that your friends will come and save you,” he said. “They’re dead.”

My heart attempted to shut down. “Bullshit. That’s not going to work on me.”

“Believe me or not,” he said with a shrug. “I really don’t care, Mr. Black.”

The part of me that wanted to rage at him remained locked behind a wall of horrified despair. The fact that he didn’t care if I believed it spoke volumes, more than any insistence or gruesome, taunting descriptions of how they’d died ever could. This simple, neutral dismissal was a lot more convincing. And hell, maybe he knew that.

Or maybe he was telling the truth.

I couldn’t let myself think that way, so I reverted to my default setting. “Anyway. About that cold beer,” I said. “Could I get some pretzels to go with it?”

“You won’t get a rise out of me, Mr. Black.” Cavanaugh smiled for the first time since he’d entered the room. “Monologuing is for fools and amateurs. I happen to be a genius.”

Okay, so I was probably in a lot of trouble here.

Cavanaugh walked up to me, grabbed an arm, and pulled — or tried to, anyway. It didn’t move, but the skin around the runes actually dimpled like there were wires wrapped around me. And of course, it hurt like hell. “That dwarf,” he said, shaking his head. “You’d think a Fae killed his dog or something.”

I didn’t really want to think about the many ways Holdrun had taught these assholes to hurt us.

“Well, let’s get started.” Cavanaugh moved to the crash cart. He picked up one of the fabric cases, unzipped it and selected a syringe, then set the case down and plucked a vial of familiar, translucent purple liquid from a field of small glass bottles.

“Mandrake oil,” I said, fighting to keep the catch from my voice. “My favorite.”

“It has to be just the right amount. Factoring in your weight, the genetic mix, and —” he turned his head back, looked me up and down. “— blood loss, we’ll put the initial dose at three CCs.”

I managed not to react at the words ‘initial dose.’

When he’d measured his perfect amount, he jabbed the needle in just above my collarbone and flicked the plunger down. The agonizing effect of the poison took hold instantly. Everything became louder and brighter, every rune carving throbbed like gunshot wounds. The deep slash in my side was a vortex of agony, and my entire back side was in flames against the cold iron.

“Refreshing,” I gritted through my teeth, once I could finally draw a breath through the pain.

But Cavanaugh wasn’t even looking at me. He’d taken a CB unit off his belt and moved a few paces away. Now he held it near his mouth and depressed the talk button. “Breckenridge, come to the lab. It’s time,” he said into it.

There was a click, and then a two-tone beep. “On the way,” a male voice said.

I decided not to ask what it was time for.

While we waited for Breckenridge, whoever that was, I tried to look around as much as I could through my watering eyes and glaring, mandrake-enhanced vision. There was my stuff in the box on the counter. Probably useless, even if I could get to it. Against the wall next to the counter was something that looked like a police floodlight, a bat signal without the cutout bat. Also useless. The crash cart, loaded with sharp instruments and much closer, yet so far away. I could maybe reach it with my foot — if I could lift my leg. Which I couldn’t. And there was Cavanaugh, armed. But even if I got him close enough to grab with my teeth or something, I’d never be able to reach his guns with a hand that only went about three inches in any direction.

If I got the opportunity, though, I’d damned well bite him anyway.

The door eventually opened, and in came who I assumed was Breckenridge. Big, muscle-bound meathead type stuffed into a soldier’s uniform. He was probably here to beat the shit out of me. With the mandrake coursing through my blood and the inability to move and cushion the blows in any way, it was going to be excruciating.

But instead of battering me with his barrel-sized fists, Breckenridge calmly took a seat in the wooden chair across from me.

“The others are outside?” Cavanaugh said as he wheeled the hospital-contraption thing behind the man in the chair and fixed the electrodes to his temples.

Breckenridge nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“All right. You remember what to do?”

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t like this. At all.

I liked it even less when Cavanaugh drew one of his guns and shot the soldier in the forehead.

Breckenridge slumped forward, dead. He hadn’t even blinked.

“Well, go on.” Cavanaugh looked at me and gestured to the soldier he’d just executed without a word of complaint. “Talk to the dead man.”

I was too horrified to speak my protest, so I shook my head.

“You’re not going to do it?” he said.

I stared at the floor so I wouldn’t have to look into Breckenridge’s dead eyes. “Even if I did, you wouldn’t be able to hear him,” I said. “I need magic for that. Without it, he can only talk in my head.”

“Yes, it’s some sort of glamour, isn’t it? The projection you create to mimic the dead.” Cavanaugh reached out and flipped a switch on the monitor, or whatever it was he’d connected the soldier to. The machine’s screen flashed on and showed a glowing green grid. “Use magic, then,” he said.

I glared at him. “I can’t. Cold iron and mandrake, remember?”

“Enough cold iron and mandrake. Just enough, in fact, to prevent you from casting your more powerful spells, but you can still use small ones,” he said. “Your own glamour is still intact, isn’t it?”

Holy shit, he was right. Why the hell didn’t I notice that?

My shock must’ve shown on my face, because Cavanaugh laughed coldly. “Well, we’ve established that you can, in fact, talk to the dead man,” he said. “So do it.”

Like hell I would. I looked at Cavanaugh instead, and said, “Beith na cohdal.”

He did not fall asleep.

What he did was blink and cock his head slightly. “Was that supposed to do something to me?” he said. “You’re only wasting your spark, you know.” He opened the top button of his shirt and spread it apart, showing me part of a line of dark blue tattoos. Dwarvish runes, the same as the ones on Holdrun’s chest that blocked magic. “That little bastard was supposed to give these to all my men, but he never got around to it. Now you’ve killed some of them. But at least they took your friends in return.”

Bile surged into my throat, hot and bitter. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the thought away. They were not dead.

“Well. If you’re sure you won’t show me your little trick,” Cavanaugh said.

My lip lifted in a sneer. “I’m sure.”

He shrugged, went back to the monitor box and pushed a button. A brief buzz of electricity sounded, and Breckenridge’s body jerked and twitched a few times.

And the dead soldier’s voice sounded in my head, bellowing the lyrics to the Dave Matthews Band’s ‘Ants Marching’ at the top of his lungs.

The pain was utterly consuming. What felt like a gallon of blood burst from my nose, and the taste filled my mouth with bright copper. “Ruaigh,” I gasped, which should have expelled his soul from my head.

It didn’t.

By the time Cavanaugh pushed another button and stopped the awful singing, the blood from various orifices had run to my waist in streaks and splashes. “You could have stopped that by projecting him with a glamour,” he said. “Do you want to try again?”

“Bite me,” I panted.

Cavanaugh pushed the button.

Breckenridge proceeded to shred everything inside my skull. This time he used ‘500 Miles’ from The Proclaimers.

At least I was getting some variety with my torture.

The evil cowboy tried it four times altogether, and then used the walkie to call in two more soldiers, the ‘others’ who’d been waiting outside. Two more chairs, two more electrode machines. Two more bullets into unflinching heads.

Three souls, each of them screaming a different song at rock concert volume.

At some point I passed out again, but it didn’t last long. Cavanaugh brought me back with a bucket of cold water. I could barely make out the shape of him right in front of me — my eyes were bleeding too, and everything came in various shades of red and throbbing black. I was pretty sure I could see sounds and smell colors.

The smudge of Cavanaugh faded into the background, and the sounds of something heavy being pushed across the floor sent blue-white tracks through my field of vision. A switch clicked and everything got fifty shades brighter.

“I hope you didn’t have your heart set on dying.” Cavanaugh’s voice made ugly black splinters in the air. “Once you’ve healed a bit, I suppose we’ll have to start over.”

Healed? I thought, before I realized I could already feel a few pains becoming separate and distinct from the screaming cocoon of agony that was my existence. And I knew what the bat-free signal really was: artificial moonlight. The Pennsylvania facility had used it to force werewolves to turn, so they could put them into lethal pit fights against ‘enhanced’ humans.

This was going to be a very long death.

Chapter 25

The fake moon didn’t work as quickly as I wanted it to, even though it was glaring directly into my face. But it was working. I could feel my extremities again. And I could see Cavanaugh moving around the lab, stopping to fiddle with a piece of equipment here, look through a cabinet of supplies there.

If I didn’t do something soon, I was going to find out exactly how many fun tricks he’d learned from Holdrun.

Speaking of the two-faced dwarf, he’d given me part of a way out of this. The more I healed, the more likely I’d be able to actually do something with that bit of knowledge. If I managed to restore some of my spark before Cavanaugh shot me up with another dose of mandrake, I could call the moonstone to my working hand — provided it was somewhere accessible, like in that box. Then I’d have to cast the spell that made it a sword and try to bend my wrist enough to slice the runes on my arm. It wouldn’t work if I didn’t get all of them from wrist to elbow, at least. And if it did, it’d take a long damned time to destroy the rest of the symbols.

Which meant Cavanaugh would take my toy away, and probably fuck me up on general principle, long before I finished. So that idea was out. And I couldn’t affect him with magic.

But maybe I could affect myself.

The thought that occurred to me was horrifying, but possible. Even likely to work — though I didn’t exactly look forward to trying. It would cost me dearly. Using my spark in this condition was painful by itself, not to mention the additional damage the spell would cause.

Still, a thousand cuts at once would have to go through most of the runes out of sheer probability. I didn’t have too much skin left to cut.

I made myself go limp, as much as possible, and dropped my glamour so Cavanaugh wouldn’t get any ideas about me being healed enough to torture some more just yet. I waited until he crossed the room to head somewhere behind me, and I heard cabinets opening and tools clinking. Then I bent my hand as far as possible, attempting to curl a finger and point it at myself.

“Míilé brihs,” I whispered, hoping Cavanaugh wouldn’t hear me.

The responding magic was fire in my veins. The cuts were worse. I bit my tongue, almost screaming anyway when my teeth encountered a bloody split through the meat of it. There was so much pain that I barely noticed the invisible bonds breaking until my knees sagged, and I damn near slid to the floor.

All but one, anyway. The spell had missed a single rune still glowing on my right wrist. But to compensate, it had left more than one throbbing mark on my manhood.

For a second I almost felt sorry for the guy I’d cast this on in the tunnel.

I clenched my jaw and straightened slowly. Still heard Cavanaugh tinkering with whatever-it-was behind me, so I hoped he’d stay busy for just another minute. The crash cart with the sharp stuff was almost within reach now, but I didn’t want to risk bumping it and making noise. So I used a sharp, unglamoured nail to slice through the last symbol.

Then it was easy to get to the cart. I snagged a scalpel and peered carefully around the standing metal sheet, where Cavanaugh stood with his back to me, assembling something on the counter. It looked pointy and painful.

Too bad he wouldn’t get the chance to use it.

I took a long, shallow breath and started toward him. My bare feet made slaps on the cold tiled floor, but I suspected that was only me hearing it because of the mandrake still in my system. This was not my favorite way to heighten my senses.

I’d gotten to within three feet of him when he froze, and his head came up. “Did you say something, Mr. Black?” he said half under his breath.

Then he turned around, and his smug expression slid into shock and horror. I could actually see him racing to figure out how I’d cancelled the dwarf’s magic.

“Yeah.” I held up the scalpel. “I said monologue this, genius.”

And slit his throat.

He crashed back against the counter and sank down, gurgling and clutching the red river of his life with both hands as it gushed over his fingers and drained away. I stood there watching him die. I felt nothing. But that was probably because I didn’t have any room for emotions with all the pain crowding them out.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

When Cavanaugh stopped twitching and his eyes started to cloud, I tossed the scalpel on his lap and staggered away. Clothes first. I reached the box on the counter and pawed through it, dripping blood all over the fabric, until I found my pendant and slipped it around my neck.

The stone immediately started glowing, as if it sensed the damage and wanted to heal me.

I grabbed the box and carried it crookedly across the room. Might as well multitask. I could get dressed and use the moonlight lamp at the same time. It took me a minute to drag the heavy floodlight so it wasn’t pointed at the cold iron, and then I sat on the floor in front of it and closed my eyes for another minute or so. At least until I had enough strength to put clothes on.

It was going to take more than a dose of fake moon to restore me fully, but I’d take what I could get. Right now, I had other things to worry about — like whether my friends were still alive, and how the hell I was going to find them.

I wasn’t sure how long it took, but I got dressed, pausing between every item. I gave myself five more minutes with the lamp and reached a state that was most of the way to human-ish before I forced myself to get up. I’d been right that my weapons weren’t in the box. But the dead soldiers had plenty of guns.

So I relieved them of a few, along with a nice pair of combat knives and one of their CBs, and then plodded back over to Cavanaugh’s blood-drenched body. I didn’t take his guns, but I did find a magnet-stripe badge that looked different from the ones we’d taken off the soldiers in the tunnel and helped myself to it.

I was getting ready to force the truth about my friends from his dead ass when I heard the distant sounds of a fight. There was gunfire, shouting, and words that weren’t English followed by a faint but definite surge of magic. Taeral. Relief flooded every inch of me, erasing most of the lingering pain with a magic stronger than any Fae spell.

They were taking the base. And it was time for me to join them.

Chapter 26

I rushed to the door of the lab, expecting to find it locked. It wasn’t. Cavanaugh must’ve been supremely confident in his own genius, to try keeping me in an unlocked room. To be fair, though, I shouldn’t have been able to beat Holdrun’s magic. I was only free because the dwarf had shown me how to do it.

So maybe my bluff about Valhalla had worked after all. Sort of.

The door led to a hallway, and the fighting sounds came from my right. I headed that way and met another corridor. Once again, the gunfire and shouting was to the right, apparently behind a security door at the end of the hall. The volume increased as I got closer, but the frequency of sounds decreased to the occasional pop of a gun and a few words in raised voices.

Someone was winning. I seriously hoped it was us.

There was a magnetic card slot next to the handle. I swiped Cavanaugh’s card, and the click of a releasing lock rewarded me. With a quick prayer to any gods who weren’t Dante that might be listening, I palmed one of the stolen guns and opened the door.

“Watch out!” a female voice shouted almost immediately. I had time to process impressions of a large space destroyed by a fierce battle, a heap of strange-looking corpses to my left, and a figure dressed in black riot gear with a full face shield lurching up from behind the bodies to point a machine gun at me.

A shot rang out. Just as I realized it hadn’t hit me, the figure dropped out of sight with a meaty thud.

Silence chased the sound of the body hitting the floor.

I caught a breath and took in a little more. The space, about the size of a college lecture hall minus the stadium seating, was littered with black-clad bodies in various gruesome death poses — most of them dressed in the same riot gear as the one who’d almost shot me. The big heap of corpses he’d been hiding behind was actually a bunch of life-sized dummies. About halfway across the room and off to the right was something that looked like a boxing ring tipped up on its side, riddled with bullet holes. There was a shooting range with pop-up metal people-shaped targets beyond the practice dummies on the left, and toward the back of the room, a jumbled heap of barbells, weight stations, and exercise machines. So this must’ve been some kind of training area.

Another figure in riot gear rushed out from behind the upended boxing platform. I raised the gun fast, my finger on the trigger.

“Hey, don’t shoot. I’m a friendly,” the same voice that told me to watch out said, and this time I recognized it before Calla reached up and pulled the head gear off. She looked exhausted and smeared liberally with dirt, but otherwise unharmed. “We were just coming to rescue you,” she said, the relief in her tone matching the deep, shuddering release in my core at seeing her alive.

I grinned. “Guess I’m meeting you halfway, then,” I said as she reached me and threw her arms around me. I hugged her hard, and rubbed her back with a hand that only trembled a little. “You kicked some serious ass in here. Thanks for saving me … that was a damned good shot.”

“I didn’t exactly save you.” She pulled back and gave me a jittery smile. “I mean, you would’ve lived if he shot you. Probably.”

I was starting to think ‘probably’ wasn’t good enough this time. These guys were a lot better than any other Milus Dei group we’d faced. But I kept that thought to myself — I didn’t want to rattle her any more than she already was. Instead I asked, “So where’s the rest of we?”

“Right here,” another voice said.

I looked across the room to see two more dressed as soldiers coming toward us. Rex, who’d been somewhere near the shooting range, had already removed the face shield. And the seven-foot figure in the uniform that didn’t even come close to covering his limbs had to be Taeral. Both of them were just as filthy as Calla, and just as alive.

Even though Taeral had been further away, he got there first and practically jerked me into an embrace, hard enough to make me wince. “Gideon, thank the gods,” he breathed. “You’ve no idea how hard it was to leave you with that treacherous creature. If I’d not known …” He trailed off, and I wasn’t sure if he meant to say he knew that they wouldn’t kill me, or that the rest of them wouldn’t have survived without him.

But it didn’t matter which one he meant, because they were both true.

“You did the right thing,” I said when he stepped back. “The only thing, really.”

“Aye, but I did not enjoy it.”

I gripped his forearm and nodded. “I know. Looks like everything managed to work out, though. You seem okay now,” I said, and turned to Rex with a raised brow. “What about you?”

He gave a deliberate cough. “Er, I’m not really a hugger. But I’ll shake your hand,” he said, and held his out.

I laughed and shook it. “I was just asking if you’re okay.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Not a scratch on me. Well, maybe a couple of scratches. But nothing serious.”

“Sadie and Chester?” I said, looking at Taeral.

A shadow passed over his face. For a second I thought we’d lost someone after all, but he said, “They’ve gone in search of some kind of room that Chester claimed was crucial to our victory.”

“The command center,” Rex put in. “Every evil villain lair has one, you know. And this whole place being inside a mountain, they’ll have all kinds of systems routed through there. Like the cameras.” He pointed to a slick-looking security camera mounted in the corner of the room. “We take the command center, we win.”

Taeral’s face stated that he disagreed with the idea of victory by computer. I knew it wasn’t so much the strategy as having to let Sadie out of his sight. But again, it was the right call to send her with Chester. A bunch of armed soldiers didn’t stand much of a chance against a werewolf.

“Well, I hope they found it,” I said. “For now, we need to—”

“Gideon, you are hurt,” Taeral broke in with a pointed stare, but his barely restrained rage wasn’t directed at me. “What have they done to you?”

It took me a minute to figure out what set him off. There was still a bit of blood leaking from my nose, an aftershock of the mental pounding I’d taken from the Fabulous Singing Dead Soldiers. I shrugged and swiped at it with a sleeve. “What they always do,” I said simply, not wanting to offer the gruesome details. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m free, you’re alive.”

“It does matter. Let me heal you,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m okay, really. Save your spark,” I said. “We still have to find the sword, and it’s probably with Yusef. We’re going to need every advantage we can get.”

He looked extremely unhappy, but he didn’t press the issue.

“All right,” I said. “I think we should check in with Sadie and Chester before we do anything else. Any idea how to find them?”

“Got you covered.” Rex went for a pocket and produced a CB unit like the one I’d taken from the lab. “I grabbed a pair of these on the way in, switched the channel to one they weren’t using. Iceman’s got the other one.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The way in from where?”

“Outside,” he said, nodding at Taeral. “Your boy there figured we shouldn’t go back through the mine tunnels, so once we were down the hatch, he dug us out to the surface. Then we found the front door and let ourselves in.” He clapped Taeral on the back and grinned. “They had a fancy-ass lock, but Iceman cracked it. Opened the whole damned mountain. Then there’s a hangar full of jeeps and choppers and a bunch of these assholes. The she-wolf rushed in and took most of ’em out. And putting on the riot gear was your woman’s idea, after we mopped up the rest in the hangar.”

I smirked and glanced at ‘my woman.’ She restrained herself admirably.

“At least now I know what happened while I was gone,” I said. “Can you just—”

The walkie in Rex’s hand crackled and squelched. “T-Rex, this is Iceman,” Chester’s static-laced voice said from the speaker. “You copy? Over.”

Rex held the unit up and thumbed the side button. “We read you, Iceman. Go ahead. Over.”

“We have the command center,” Chester said after a beat. “What’s your status? Over.”

“Area secured and assholes wiped. Over.”

“Roger that, T-Rex.” I could hear the grin in Chester’s voice. “You moving out to pursue the objective? Over.”

Rex looked at me and smiled. “The objective came to us. Over.”

“You’ve got the boss? Is he okay?” Chester said, and I heard another voice in the background. “Sadie says if he’s not, she’s going to kick his ass.” A long pause. “Er, over.”

“Tell her I’m fine, and I’m sorry,” I said.

“I will tell her. Give me that device.” Taeral glowered at Rex for a few seconds, and then slumped into a sigh. “Please,” he added reluctantly.

“No problem, buddy.” Rex held the button down. “Iceman, can you put She-Wolf on the line? Grim Reaper wants to talk to her. Over.”

Unexpectedly, Taeral failed to take offense to his new nickname.

“Sure thing. Iceman, over and out.”

Rex handed the CB to Taeral. “I’ll need Iceman back when you’re done, okay?”

“Fine,” Taeral said absently, staring at the walkie as he started to move away. I heard Sadie’s voice briefly, and then he was out of range.

I’d let them have their semi-privacy while they could get it.

Calla smiled at Rex. “So, do I get a cool code name too?” she said.

“Hell yeah, you do. Bullseye,” he said, pointing a finger gun at her and pulling the trigger. “Because you never miss. And your man, he’s Wildcat. One savage motherfucker with nine lives.” Rex tipped me a wink. “Let’s just hope you haven’t used them all up yet.”

I laughed. “I’ve probably got at least two left. Maybe three.”

“You might need ’em before this night’s over,” he said.

I hoped I wouldn’t. I’d already come damned close to losing one in the lab.

It wasn’t long before Taeral returned with the CB and handed it to Rex. “Chester—” He broke off, and his mouth twitched slightly toward a smirk. “Iceman wishes to speak with you,” he said.

“Now you’re getting it. That’s a big ten-four, Grim.” He grinned and grabbed the walkie. “This is T-Rex, come back. Over.”

“Reading you Lima Charlie, T-Rex,” Chester said through the speaker. “I’ve pulled up some schematics of the place, but I’m not seeing anything we haven’t already cleared. Please advise. Over.”

“Roger that. Hold the line, over.” Rex looked at me. “We’re looking for the big guy, right? That son of a bitch I flew in here,” he said. “Iceman’s saying it looks like we’ve been through most of the place already, and we didn’t see him.”

I frowned. He had to be here somewhere. “Just a second,” I said, thinking back to Holdrun’s conversation with Cavanaugh. “The guy that was — er, some asshole who works here said he was upstairs. Maybe that’ll help Chester find something?”

As Rex nodded and conveyed the message, Taeral gave me a look. He knew what I’d been about to say.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “The asshole’s dead.”

Taeral snorted. “I’d rather he were alive, so I could kill him slowly.”

“Why? What happened?” Calla said, looking from Taeral to me. “Gideon, what did he do to you?”

I gave her a quick one-armed hug. “Nothing I can’t fix.”

She started to say something else, but then the CB crackled and Chester’s voice broke in. “Okay, looks like we’ve got three floors and a subfloor here,” he said, and I could hear him tapping on a keyboard. Sadie was probably holding the walkie for him. “We know what’s below — that short bastard’s lair. This floor’s the training room, lab, offices, and command center. Second floor, barracks, cafeteria, rec room. And there’s only one room on the third. Says here, ‘sanctum.’ Over.”

“Sanctum. That has to be it,” I said. “How do we get there?”

Of course, Chester didn’t answer. I wasn’t the one with the walkie.

Rex clicked through and repeated the question, and Chester said the stairs were on the other side of the lab and went up to both floors, but he had no idea what was on the third. “No cameras up there,” he said. “But I’m picking up a handful of hostiles holed up in the cafeteria, maybe trying to regroup. Got a few headed for the hangar, too. We need to disable those vehicles so they can’t go for help, and mop up the stragglers. Over.”

“All right,” I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. “Maybe we should—”

A squelch from the CB interrupted. “She-Wolf wants the chow hall. Says she’s hungry. Over.”

I bit back a laugh, since Taeral did not look amused. But hell, I thought it was funny. “Okay, that’s one problem down.”

“Rex and I can deal with the hangar,” Calla said.

I looked at her. “You sure?”

“Sure we can take it? Yeah.” She reached out and took my hand. “Sure I want to let you and Taeral go face the man upstairs alone? Absolutely not. But I know that’s going to happen anyway. It’s … the right move.”

Maybe it was. But I didn’t like any of the right moves we’d had to make since we started this thing.

“What do you think, Taeral?” I said.

He grimaced. “I think we’ve no other choice.”

“Yeah, me too.” I pulled Calla close, and kissed her like I’d never see her again. “Don’t die, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” she said.

“Deal.”

I couldn’t promise anything. But if we actually pulled this off, at least we’d really have something to celebrate.

Chapter 27

Rex had changed my stolen CB to the channel he and Chester were using, and I’d handed it off to a protesting Taeral who didn’t want anything to do with the contraption. Until I reminded him that he could talk to Sadie. We found the stairs easily enough, and as we headed up them slowly, I gave Taeral a glossed-over version of what happened with Holdrun, and how he’d sort of saved me in the end.

“That is not nearly enough to redeem him, after what he’s done,” Taeral growled when I finished. “Last of his kind or not, I would still destroy him if I could.”

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to put him on my Christmas card list or anything,” I said. “I’m only saying that he wasn’t actively trying to kill any of us. Just himself, by proxy.”

Taeral made a disgusted sound. “There is no honor in such an act of cowardice. His ancestors would be ashamed.”

“I thought you said dwarves had no honor.”

He held a finger up. “I said they have no integrity. They’ve no morals, no issues with lying and cheating and bending the truth, twisting the words of a bargain, to get what they want. But they are said to be honorable. Loyal to those who’ve proven worthy of respect, by deed or in battle.” A slight frown creased his face. “Even if Valhalla exists, that one will not be welcome.”

And here I thought I was bluffing. Maybe I’d accidentally told Holdrun the truth.

But at this point, it probably didn’t matter.

We reached the second-floor landing and stopped short at what waited there. The body of a Milus Dei soldier lay sprawled at the foot of the stairs that continued to the third floor — with Holdrun’s bronze hammer buried in the remnants of his skull.

“Looks like somebody got in his way,” I said, my gaze moving from the bloodied hammer to the stairs. “You think he’s up there? Holdrun, I mean.”

Taeral gave a careful shrug. “Perhaps Yusef dismissed him, and he took his anger out on this one as he came down.”

“Maybe.” But I had a feeling that the dwarf was on the third floor, and if Yusef-slash-Dante hadn’t kept his promise to kill him yet, we’d have to deal with both of them. Somehow.

And I was pretty sure we’d lose that fight.

“Taeral … let’s just get out of here,” I said, my blood suddenly running cold. “I never should’ve talked you guys into coming in the first place. Now everyone’s looking at me to lead, and I have no idea what I’m doing. I just keep fucking things up. I wanted to actually hurt these guys, strike a real blow, but I couldn’t even —”

“Brother, stop,” Taeral said with gentle conviction. “You’ve made the right decision. It is not that we should take Fragarach from them, but that we must.”

I swallowed bitterly. “Why? It’s just a damned sword.”

“Aye, a sword that can kill you, or me, with a single blow,” he said. “A weapon they’ll surely find a way to reproduce. Holdrun claims he will refuse, but you know these people. These evil, twisted, inhuman scum. They will force him to comply. And when he does …” Taeral shook his head slowly. “With such weapons, and their great number of soldiers, and their protections from Fae magic, they could take Arcadia and exterminate our people.”

I didn’t want to believe that. “How would they even get there?” I said, and then shuddered as I answered my own questions. “They’d just grab a couple of Fae to torture, and make them open the Veil.”

“Or they could simply use Holdrun,” he said. “Dwarves are creatures of Arcadia — at least they were, before the Great War.”

Damn it. I guessed we did have to go through with this.

Before we headed up, I grabbed the solid metal hammer and wrenched it out of the soldier’s skull. It was heavy, but manageable. “Think I’ll take this along,” I said, shaking as much of the blood and bits of bone off the weapon as I could. “I’m not sure how much of that dream was real, but he shattered the moon sword into dust with that thing in it. Maybe this’ll work better.”

Taeral nodded. “Perhaps it will.”

We walked the second flight of stairs without talking. As we neared the top, voices drifted down the stairwell — one furious and bellowing, the other calm and too soft to make out. The loud one belonged to Holdrun, and I guessed the other one was Yusef. Or possibly Dante.

Well, at least they weren’t getting along. Maybe that was a point in our favor.

“—done what ye asked of me!” Holdrun’s raw shout clarified as we crept closer. “Yer master swore to uphold the bargain, and I’ll have my payment!”

Now we were close enough to see a landing, and a red door trimmed with fancy, gilt-edged molding that was cracked open a few inches.

“Yes, of course. And you’ll have it, Master Sootbrow,” the slightly accented voice from my dream answered, faint compared to the dwarf’s enraged sputtering. So it was Yusef. “Just as soon as you fulfill the rest of your end.”

“I never promised ye I’d duplicate the sword. I only said that I could.”

Yusef made a tut-tut sound. “Twist your words all you’d like, but you’ll still deliver what you promised. One way or another.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” A long string of jingling, clanking metal followed the shout. “Let me down, ye bloody puppet,” Holdrun gritted. “Or I’ll make ye.”

There was a soft chuckle. “I’m afraid you can’t do anything, as long as your feet don’t touch the ground. Dwarf.”

Taeral and I exchanged a glance. Apparently, he hadn’t known that either.

We reached the landing just as Holdrun loosed a long string of clanks and jingles and rough-sounding words that were probably dwarvish curses. And as soon as our feet left the last step, the door swung open fully.

“DeathSpeaker. Lord Ciar’ Ansghar,” Yusef’s voice called from inside the room. “I’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.”

Somehow that polite greeting was even worse than being immediately murdered.

But we were already here, so in we went.

Chapter 28

The sanctum was basically a huge, pretentious study with a lot of dark, gleaming wood, blood-red plush carpet and furniture, and gold edges and accents everywhere. Gold-bound books, gold figurines, even a few gold statues of anatomically correct, half-naked people. The walls were half paneled wood, half richly textured wallpaper, and decked with shields, crossed swords, and fancy coats of arms. A soaring, raftered vault ceiling terminated in an elaborate glass skylight that framed a wedge of the night sky with a sliver of near-full moon starting to ease across from one edge.

Holdrun hung from one of the rafters with a length of silver chain wrapped around his torso several times. He must’ve kicked one of his boots off in his struggles, because it lay halfway across the room in the middle of the floor, smoldering gently. When the dwarf caught sight of us, his breath snagged and he started a fresh struggle against the chains, muttering under his breath the whole time.

Yusef stood at the far end of the room, with the suspended Holdrun between us and him. He looked exactly the same as he had in my dream, except the sword was in his hand instead of on his back. There was a massive window behind him with thick red curtains drawn closed across it, and for a moment all I could think about was how the hell they’d managed to install glass in a mountain.

Then the door slammed shut by itself behind us, and I had more important things to think about.

“Good evening,” Yusef said as he started across the room. “I’m glad you’ve come. We had so little time to speak in your dreams. Now, I hope we can have a more fruitful discussion, since we won’t be interrupted.”

He raised his free hand, and his fingers glowed as he traced symbols in the air. Not runes, but a lot of circles and triangles, dots and curled lines. They seemed almost familiar. When he finished drawing, he made a pushing gesture. The symbols flew past us and slammed into the door, glowing briefly before they vanished. I assumed that meant the door was sealed.

And I remembered where I’d seen writing like that before. On the Scrolls of Gideon.

“Magic?” I said as Yusef drew slowly closer. “Thought you said you were perfectly human.”

“Oh, I am. That ‘magic’ is hermetic alchemy,” he said. “The only form of magic native to humans.”

“Uh-huh.” I gripped the hammer tighter as he took a few more steps. Now I could make out his smooth, hairless chest where his robes split, and the familiar dark blue tattoos marching down from his throat. Goddamn it. Of course he was protected from Fae magic. “Hey, how about you stop right there?” I said, hoping Taeral had noticed it too. I’d told him basically what the anti-Fae seals looked like on the way up.

Yusef actually stopped, and looked mildly surprised. “So, you’ll talk with me?”

“Nah.” I used my free hand to grab one of the guns. “Just thought I’d find out how many bullets it takes to kill a hand of the god.”

I started shooting.

Instantly, there was a flashing gray blur in front of Yusef, and every bullet pinged off and bounced away like popcorn escaping a hot pan. At first I thought he’d made some kind of alchemy shield, until I caught a glimpse of honed metal edge in one of the flashes.

He was deflecting the bullets with Fragarach, just as fast as I shot them.

“Great,” I muttered, and emptied the gun at him anyway before I tossed the useless thing on the floor. “Well, it was worth a try.”

But Taeral wasn’t giving up on the kill-first, talk-later strategy.

He’d already palmed the lodestone and formed the glowing gauntlet that allowed him to control metal. He stretched an arm toward one of the full-sized gold statues, lifted and twisted his hand until the statue hovered in midair like the world’s most unlikely dart, and then launched it at Yusef.

The paladin swung Fragarach down on the golden missile, shattering it into glitter.

“Are you finished yet?” he said. “I really do have a lot to discuss with both of you.”

Taeral made a very unpleasant sound. “I’ve no wish to hear anything from you.”

“Let me down, Unseelie,” Holdrun called suddenly, twisting and lunging at the end of his chain. “I can help ye.”

In response, Taeral loosed a blistering stream of Fae that probably would’ve made his mother blush.

Holdrun stopped moving. “Is that a no, then?”

“If you plan to kill us, get on with it,” Taeral snapped at Yusef, completely ignoring the dwarf. “I’d rather die than hear the rotted tripe you vomit up, after you digest the fecal droppings your master feeds you. How can you serve such a soulless creature?”

Yusef’s patient expression didn’t change. “I have served my lord for more than three hundred years,” he said. “It is an honor and a privilege to bow down to perfection, and to help him create that perfection for the rest of the world.”

“By killing all of us, and a bunch of humans along the way. Great idea.” My mind stuttered a bit when he said three hundred years, but I remembered Sir Livingston Cromwell, stuck at the bottom of the ocean while he protected the Scrolls of Gideon for seven centuries. He’d practiced this alchemy stuff, too. “That’s definitely going to save the planet, and maybe fix the economy while you’re at it.”

“Though it saddens me, human casualties are sometimes unavoidable,” he said.

“Right. Like all five hundred people in Basin Springs. That was unavoidable?”

Yusef blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t play dumb, asshole,” I said. “You thought Rex told someone about your goddamned mission and you couldn’t figure out who he told, so you decided to play it safe and kill them all. Your orders.” My jaw clenched hard. “And if you know anything about me, you won’t bother lying, because I heard it straight from a dead man.”

“It can’t be true,” Yusef said, shaking his head. “My lord … stepped in to give the order. I’m not aware of what happens when he possesses my body, but he would not command such an atrocity. Five hundred innocents …” He swallowed and looked at me. “And yet you are the DeathSpeaker. The dead cannot lie to you.”

“That’s right. I am, and he did,” I said. “And if you really expect me to believe that you had no idea —”

“I did not. On my life, I swear it.” He took a step back. “Five hundred,” he whispered. The sword shook in his hand, and his features twisted in pain.

Oh, shit. I’d seen this before, too.

“Um. I think Dante’s coming,” I murmured.

Unfortunately, I was right.

Chapter 29

Taeral hadn’t seen his whole transformation bit before. I had, and it still gave me a serious case of the creeps when the man in front of us went from biblical Egyptian to stone-faced, blue-eyed god.

The Dante-thing gave a short sigh and brushed at the sleeve of his robe. “My paladins are still soft when it comes to necessary sacrifice. It is the only flaw remaining in them, particularly this model,” he said in his flat, Arctic cold voice. “I have told them time and again that humans are easily replaceable. Still, they persist.”

“Dante,” Holdrun spat, suddenly coming to life after a long silence. “We had a bargain.”

“Be silent, creature. I will deal with you when the time comes.” Dante raised the hand without the sword and made a twirling motion that spun the dwarf up the chain, wrapping it around his mouth.

“I cannot sense his power,” Taeral said under his breath, gaping at the sword-wielding apparition. “In fact, there is nothing. Nothing at all. A moment ago I could sense Yusef, along with some kind of powerful bond that gripped him. “But now …” He stumbled a half-step back. “It’s as if he’s ceased to exist. And that thing is not real. It is not there.”

Dante’s brow rose about a millimeter. “You could not be more wrong, Lord Fae,” he said. “I am utterly real, the very apex of reality. So real, in fact, that your unearthly senses have nothing to grasp.”

“Fine, we get it. You’re super real,” I said. “And you’ve got telekinesis and alchemy, a scary sword that makes you basically bulletproof, and a face that could stop a clock. Okay, all the clocks.” I leaned back and gripped the hammer in both hands. “What else you got?”

“I have an offer for you. Both of you.” Dante lifted the sword a few inches, and then changed his mind and let it hang down again. “As I mentioned before … join us. Become my followers.”

I snorted. “The only place I’d follow you is into a deep, dark hole, so I could kill you and bury you there.”

“Are you not a god?” Taeral added mockingly as some of the color came back into him. “You should know that neither of us will ever agree to such an ‘offer.’ Or do you believe us so foolish that we’d join your mad cause, only to participate in engineering our own destruction?” He hooked a thumb at Holdrun. “You’ve that one for it, if you require a brainless sacrificial lamb.”

Dante didn’t move or change his expression. “If you join me, you will live to see the end. Which is the beginning,” he said. “You will die knowing that you have helped to perfect this world for those it truly belongs to, rather than throw your lives away on this pointless attempt to preserve chaos and corruption. The plan will not be stopped.”

“So the plan is all humans, all the time,” I said. “Well, here’s a news flash for you. I’m human, and I’d rather eat rusty nails and drink bleach than live in any world you create.”

“Aye. Two votes for rusty nails and bleach,” Taeral said. “How about you, dwarf?”

Holdrun made a muffled sound that was probably something like ‘go to hell.’

Speaking of Holdrun, I was really starting to think we’d be better off with him loose. Even if it was just so he’d throw himself at Dante and distract him so we could try to get the hell out of here. Maybe we could crash through the window or something — he hadn’t sealed that.

Because Dante was right about one thing: there was no way in hell we could stop him. At least, not tonight.

I caught Taeral’s eye, then flicked my gaze to the dangling dwarf and gave a deliberate nod. Get him down, I thought as strenuously as I could, in case that helped. He seemed to understand. Meanwhile, I had a trick or two left up my sleeve to try.

“You still think we’re going to join you?” I said as I swung the hammer to my shoulder, at the same time palming one of the blades I’d liberated from the soldiers in the lab. Then I started carefully moving away from Taeral. “I mean, my brother has a point. Who’s crazy enough to enlist in a cult that has the sole purpose of killing them? Except Holdrun.”

Dante watched me warily. Good — I wanted to keep his focus off Taeral. “All of my followers are quite willing to die when it is called for,” he said, as if that was the most sane and logical thing in the world. “I believe my magister demonstrated that most conclusively, before you killed him.”

“Oh, you mean Cavanaugh? Shame about him. He was a genius, you know,” I said with a snort. “By the way, have you heard this one?” I took a minute to concentrate, and said, “Ah-dab ilah alnuir.”

I felt the spell trying to work. Then it hit him like a marshmallow thrown at a brick wall, bouncing off harmlessly.

A tiny v-shape formed between Dante’s brows. “Interesting,” he said a fraction slower than normal. “I know all languages, and yet I did not understand what you said. Did you fabricate those words yourself?”

I caught myself before I told him it was the DeathSpeaker language—something I had no idea existed myself, before Kelwyyn told me. I could keep a few secrets from him, at least. And I’d kinda hoped that would work, since it wasn’t Fae magic.

Kelwyyn said the spell was supposed to forcibly separate souls from where they didn’t belong. So I’d wanted to part Dante’s soul from Yusef’s body — obviously, it didn’t belong there. No dice, but I thought there might be a way to make it work.

Maybe we could have a win here, after all.

The faint jingling of chains drew Dante’s attention, and he looked away from me. I kept my eye on him, even as he shouted, “Stop that!” and made a gesture that blasted something into the air. Something that looked like Taeral.

While Dante’s arm was still out, I rushed at him and drew back the hammer.

He came around quick, swinging Fragarach in an overhand arch. I prayed that the hammer would hold and brought it up to meet the sword, with no intention of actually trying to strike him with it. What I really wanted to use was in my other hand.

Cold iron and bronze crashed together hard enough to rattle my bones, spewing sparks into the air between us.

And I slashed out with the knife, slicing down the middle of the tattoos on his chest.

Dante shoved me away with a palm. I staggered back, the hammer dragging on the carpet, and finally fell on my ass. There was actual emotion on his face — fury, frigid and absolute — but then his features smoothed out to neutral and the corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. “Perhaps now you believe that you can stop me,” he said, wiping absently at the blood welling on his skin. “But this protection is for my paladin. I am naturally immune to Fae magic.”

Yeah, maybe he was. But I planned to use DeathSpeaker magic.

We did still had a chance.

I struggled to my feet, panting slightly as I left the hammer on the carpet and glanced to the side. Holdrun was on the floor, trying to unwrap the chain that still wound around him, and Taeral was headed toward me from across the room at full sprint. The purple gauntlet of the lodestone glowed on his hand.

He’d nearly reached me when the hammer flew toward him and he gripped the handle. But he wasn’t slowing down.

Dante looked at Taeral — and actually smiled. It was the most horrifying expression I’d ever seen.

“Finally,” he said.

“Taeral, don’t!” I screamed, and lunged at my brother.

I saw, and heard, and felt the sword draw back and lunge forward, headed straight for Taeral. Somehow I knew that Holdrun’s hammer wasn’t going to stop it this time. I plowed into him in the split second before the cold iron blade skewered him.

And Dante plunged Fragarach straight through my gut, in the exact spot he’d stabbed me in my dream.

As if the sword had already known where it was going.

Chapter 30

It turned out I had no idea what pain was until now.

My spark was gone. Not weakened, not drained, but ripped out completely when Dante pulled the sword from my guts. I was only still alive because I was half human — a human who’d just had three feet of sharpened metal with a hooked end shoved through his stomach and ripped back out. Even if Taeral tried to heal me, even if Dante allowed it, there wasn’t enough magic in the world to save me. I had two, maybe three minutes, tops.

And maybe I would’ve been okay with that, at least until I died, if it wasn’t for the wretched mask of misery that was my brother hovering over me.

“Keep him busy, dwarf!” Taeral’s shout bludgeoned my ears, and through vision that kept flashing light and dark, I saw him toss something to Holdrun. The lodestone. I wanted to tell him not to do that, he didn’t have to keep the promise because the dwarf wasn’t holding up his end. But when I opened my mouth, a gout of blood poured out instead of words.

“Gideon … please, do not try to move.” Tears streaked Taeral’s face as he knelt next to me and held a hand over my stomach.

He was going to attempt healing me. Pointless.

I heard the sound of a fight somewhere far away, like it was rolling across an ocean filled with agony. Idly, I wondered how many seconds Holdrun could last against Dante, or how long it would take for Taeral to realize he was trying to drain the Atlantic with a spoon.

My flickering vision started to dim, and this time it kept going, rapidly closing on darkness. A long, rattling breath bubbled from my throat through the blood. My chest didn’t rise again.

Through the fragment of sensation that remained to me, I heard a hoarse sob and felt Taeral place his hands on the sides of my head, and then rest his forehead against mine. “It is not enough. I am so sorry,” he whispered. “Goodbye, brother.”

Goodbye.

I couldn’t even tell whether I had lips anymore, let alone whether I’d moved them. The dwindling pinpoint of the world lensed shut.

And then I was engulfed by the purest flash of stark-white light I’d ever seen. Like a hundred Arcadian moons. A thousand. Feeling shot through my body, flooding every millimeter until even my eyelashes tingled with power. And every bit of it was Taeral’s. I never knew he had so much.

I bolted upright and opened my eyes. I was still in Dante’s study — seeing, hearing, breathing. The hole through me had closed.

Taeral lay sprawled beside me, glamourless and still.

“Holy shit, you did it,” I rasped in a shaking voice, nudging Taeral slightly. “Okay. Come on, let me heal you a bit now.” I started to reach for him.

But he stopped me. “Finish it, brother.”

Damn. I didn’t want to leave him in such bad shape, but I knew whatever was happening with Dante, there wasn’t much time to take advantage of it. Another one of those right decisions I was starting to hate making.

“Fine, but I’m coming right back,” I said, searching the room briefly until I spotted the two of them across the room — Dante and Holdrun, the former trying unsuccessfully to cleave the dwarf in two with Fragarach, the latter gesturing with the glowing lodestone, producing a sickening snap each time that actually made Dante wince.

Holdrun was using the lodestone to break his bones. I vaguely recalled reading something about calcium being a metal, and thought maybe Taeral could learn that trick if we could get the stone back from the dwarf.

“Gideon. Hurry.”

“Right, sorry,” I said in Taeral’s general direction, and started for Dante. On the way, my brain insisted on replaying the non-rhyming nonsense verse that Holdrun had recited, especially the last two lines:

The Answerer defends the just,

But will not strike that which is stilled.

And in a flash, as if all that white light had made me smarter, I understood.

Yusef-Dante never struck first. Even in the dream, I’d already gone at him with the moon-sword when he shattered it and stabbed me. He deflected bullets and fought back when we came at him with the hammer, but he’d never made the first move.

It was called the Answerer because it only answered attacks. It defended the just — or the ‘just in possession of Fragarach at the moment,’ in Dante’s case.

But he couldn’t use it at all if we stopped trying to fight.

“Holdrun!” I called, breaking into a fast jog. “Stop fighting. I know it sounds crazy, but listen. I figured out your song.”

Both Dante and Holdrun swiveled toward me, their faces painted with shock. “This is not possible,” Dante thundered with Fragarach raised over his head. “I saw you die!”

Holdrun stared wide-eyed at the deadly sword poised over him. He glanced at me, and then slowly put the lodestone in a pocket and backed away. “By the gods,” he breathed. “‘But will not strike that which is stilled.’ It’s a defensive weapon. Ye can’t strike with it, unless yer struck first.” A wicked grin lifted his lips. “Granda’, ye were a true genius.”

Meanwhile, Dante had managed to calm down. A little. “Are you so certain you have the answers?” he said as he lowered the sword. “Certain enough to gamble your life?”

“Well, I am,” Holdrun said. “Seems the halfling here is, too. Now, that Unseelie —” He broke off and looked past me, to where Taeral lay. “Oh, gods,” he rasped. “Is he…”

“Nah. He’s just wiped out,” I said. “His spark’s drained. I can heal him when I’m done with this asshole.”

The dwarf managed to blanch somehow, his color draining to a paler shade of mahogany. He gave me a look I couldn’t interpret, and then trudged past me and headed for Taeral.

Dante started to laugh.

“You truly do not realize it, do you?” he said. “Your brother is not exhausted, nor is he unconscious. He is dead.”

I huffed a breath. “Bullshit. You know, your buddy Cavanaugh tried that on me earlier. It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now.” I strolled toward him casually, hands in my pockets.

He swung the sword back, poised to strike. When I got close, he struggled visibly to bring it down — but it wouldn’t go, no matter how hard he tugged and strained to swing it.

“Told you,” I said. “Now, I’ve only got one thing to say to you. Ah-dab ilah alnuir.”

I forced every bit of strength and willpower I had into those words, and this time I felt them take hold.

At first Dante didn’t realize it. He started to grin, but then he wavered in place. One of his knees buckled, thumping him to the carpet. Teeth clenched, he pushed the point of Fragarach against the carpet and grabbed the hilt with both hands, using it to pull himself up. “What have you done?” he said, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

For an instant he seemed to double. A ghostly, distorted version of Dante oozed slowly away from Yusef like something pushing against a membrane, mouth open in a silent scream. When it finally ripped free, Yusef’s body staggered and fell back, rapidly shriveling from a living person to a wizened, brittle collection of wasted flesh and dry bones. When he hit the floor, he disintegrated into a pile of dust and a bare, grinning skull — leaving Fragarach sticking out of the carpet like Excalibur.

It wasn’t completely unexpected. Sir Cromwell had done the same thing when I released his soul on the Nostradamus. But it was still creepy as hell, and it robbed me of the chance to tear Yusef’s beating heart from his chest.

He wasn’t Dante, but he had been that bastard’s willing vessel. And I reminded myself to take that skull with me, because having a Hand of the God to interrogate would definitely come in handy. This wasn’t over until we ended Dante for good.

Trying to convince myself that the overwhelming rage flooding me was an overreaction — again — I turned away from the dust pile formerly known as Yusef and headed for Taeral.

“Well done, brother,” he said.

“Thanks.” I grinned, exhausted but finally rid of the strain that had been pulling me taut ever since we left for this godforsaken desert. And maybe something still didn’t feel right, but Yusef was dead and Dante was gone. We’d won. “It wasn’t just me, though,” I said. “And hey, did you know you could do that bone-breaking thing with the lodestone?”

Taeral didn’t answer. He might’ve passed out. I’d have to heal him fast.

Holdrun watched me approach with a terrible, stricken expression. He’d straightened Taeral out on his back, and for some reason he’d folded his hands together on his stomach. The dwarf had also put the lodestone pendant back around Taeral’s neck — and he hadn’t even taken his prosthetic arm.

“I’m sorry, laddie,” he said when I knelt on Taeral’s other side. A fat tear rolled down the dwarf’s cheek, hissing into steam before it could drip into his moustache.

I gave a half-hearted shrug, less worried about his apology than my brother. “I’ll probably forgive you, sooner or later,” I said vaguely as I held a hand palm-down over his chest, searching for a point to pass healing energy through. “Taeral? Not so much.”

“No, not —” Holdrun cut himself off with a hard breath. “I meant I’m sorry for yer loss.”

Tears scalded my eyes. I swallowed, blinked them back, and carried on not seeing what was in front of me. “What loss?”

“DeathSpeaker.” He reached across Taeral’s body — form, it’s a form, not a body — and gripped my wrist, carefully this time. His skin felt like a leathery heating pad. “Please, stop this,” he grated. “For yer own sake.”

“Stop what?” I whispered, casting my gaze down.

“Tryin’ to heal him.” The dwarf shuddered. “Gideon … he’s gone.”

Chapter 31

“No, he’s not,” I heard myself say.

“Laddie—”

“No!” I shot to my feet, fists clenched as the rage tried to swallow me again. “He’s not dead. He talked to me, just a minute ago. Didn’t you hear him?”

Holdrun stared at me with that same stricken look he’d worn when I came over. “The Answerer ripped the spark out of ye, and ye were dying,” he said very softly, as if loud words would break me the way he’d snapped Dante’s bones with the lodestone. “Lord Taeral, he gave his entire spark to ye so ye’d live. I saw him do it, though I’d not understood what it was until …” He let out a shaking breath. “A Fae can’t live without his spark. The moment ye breathed again, he died.”

“Goddamn it, he’s not dead! He spoke to me. Three times, at least!” My jaw clenched so hard, I thought my teeth would shatter. “He just needs moonlight,” I said, spinning on my heel to stalk across the stupid, pretentious, ridiculously overblown fucking sanctum. “Thrucíar,” I snarled, gesturing at the completely unnecessary skylight as I passed beneath it. Shattered glass rained down behind me.

I reached the completely unnecessary window and ripped the heavy curtains down. Shattered that pointless glass too, for good measure. Then I walked back to the broken skylight, where the soft glow of the moon shone through the hole in the ceiling and fractured into glittering diamonds on the glass-strewn carpet.

“Ahmac àn beahlac,” I muttered, barely holding back a sob as I gestured at the mess. The busted glass scattered across the room, and I laid the drapes across the cleared carpet, one on top of the other. I didn’t want Taeral to end up with a bunch of glass slivers in him when I brought him to the moonlight.

I returned to my brother to find that Holdrun had taken the CB I gave him. I figured I’d let the dwarf have the damned thing — there were about a hundred more of them scattered around on the ground level, and we wouldn’t need them any more, anyway. “I’ve called yer friends on this gadget,” he said, waving the unit around. “Told ’em ye need them. They’ll be up shortly.”

“Good.” I crouched, slid my arms under Taeral and struggled to stand with him. Son of a bitch weighed a ton, and he was utterly limp, so that wasn’t helping. “They should be here,” I said, grunting as Taeral tried to slide away from me when I turned with him. “So we can celebrate. Because we won.”

I ignored the tears that splashed on his shirt and soaked into the fabric as I carried him to the skylight and laid him under the moon. Then I knelt carefully next to him. “As the humans say … mission accomplished,” I whispered. “Right, brother?”

Taeral didn’t say it, but I knew he agreed.

Some time passed. I stayed there in the moonlight, watching it bathe him, waiting for his glamour to restore. It would happen. Later on when we got home, he’d lecture me and tell me to stop trying to sacrifice myself for him, or anyone else, because I was the important one. I was the DeathSpeaker, and I had to live. No one else could stop Dante.

And I’d tell him I didn’t want to be the goddamned DeathSpeaker anymore.

Eventually I heard things. A door slamming open. People moving. An impossibly drawn-out, keening wail and someone sobbing Taeral’s name, over and over again.

“No, Sadie, it’s okay. He’s not dead,” I murmured, even though I couldn’t really see her. Everything was shimmery and running together because of all the light. Like a thousand Arcadian moons that dragged me back from death and sent my brother … to sleep.

Now someone else was crying. Arms went around me and I tried not to stiffen. Because if I moved, even a little bit, I was going to shatter like the skylight I’d busted. I wasn’t going anywhere until Taeral was healed.

“Oh, God, no. Gideon …” A soft hand stroked my face.

I flinched. The moonlight eased back and ran down my cheeks, and I made out Calla kneeling on the floor in front of me. She was between me and my brother. “No, I … it’s his spark,” I said, trying to push her away. “He just needs the moon. He’s okay.” I met her luminous, horrified green eyes, but the reassuring smile I tried to imagine wouldn’t materialize on my face. “I heard him talk,” I said haltingly. “I heard him.”

Calla’s breath hitched, and her lips pressed together. “Gideon, honey,” she whispered gently. She’d never called me that before. “Of course you heard him. You hear all of them.”

Her words triggered a vortex inside me, spiraling rapidly and threatening to consume everything. I tried to push it back. I didn’t want to acknowledge the awful truth behind those words, the truth I’d known the instant I opened my eyes after Dante killed me. Of course you heard him.

Because I’m the DeathSpeaker. That’s why I heard, but no one else did.

I’m the only one who can hear the dead.

Chapter 32

“It’s done, then.”

The deep, crackling voice sizzled through me, searing my nerves. Holdrun. It felt like too much effort to acknowledge him, so I didn’t.

I was sitting on the hood of a disabled jeep, one of many in the hangar, with elbows propped on my thighs and my hands pressed against my hot, swollen eyes. What I wouldn’t give to go back to denial. This realization, this knowing, was indescribably worse than any of the countless horrors I’d experienced in my short, shitty existence.

Taeral had given his life to heal me, but the gaping hole was still there, just as raw as the moment it was inflicted.

And it was my fault. Of course it was. I’d been the one to insist on coming out here, being proactive, taking on the bad guys. I was the one they’d looked to for answers, for decisions I didn’t want to make. But I’d been too late. For Basin Springs, for my brother. Every fucking time, I was too late.

I was the one with the power to stop this, the one who had to live at any cost. Well, the price was too damned high, and I didn’t want to pay it anymore.

But I still had to. I’d have to pay it forever.

“Gideon?” Holdrun again. “I said, it’s done. I’ve destroyed the—”

“Fine. I heard you,” I snapped without moving. He was trying to tell me that he’d destroyed Fragarach, upheld his end of the bargain. ‘Hollow victory’ was too gentle to describe how I felt about that. “Taeral already gave you the lodestone once,” I said. “He fulfilled his promise.”

Now I had it, around my neck with the moonstone, and that was where it would stay. I wasn’t promising shit to anyone.

“I don’t want the stone, DeathSpeaker.” I cringed when he spoke my ‘title.’ Christ, why wouldn’t he just shut up and go away? “I just … well, maybe ye aren’t in yer right mind, but I think Lord Taeral would’ve wanted—”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about my brother!” I launched myself from the hood and landed on the ground in front of the dwarf. Everyone was out here trying to wrap things up and decide how we were going to get home, and I felt them all turn shocked stares on me. I didn’t give a damn. “You don’t know him,” I said with a quiver in my voice — not sorrow, but white-hot rage. “You have no idea what he would’ve wanted. And I don’t want to hear what you think you know about him. Say his name again, and I will find a way to finish what Dante promised and end your miserable existence.”

I turned and stalked away. From him, from the others, from everything. Blinded by tears, I stumbled my way past vehicles and bodies toward the vast, open doors on the mountain face and the night beyond. Cool desert air swirled around me, forcing its way into my gasping lungs and lifting the stench of death from them.

I hadn’t made it far when I dropped to my knees in the gritty sand and raised my face to the glittering sky. Memory struck me with lightning force — Taeral and I reclining on a rock beneath this very same light-studded canopy, savoring a precious moment of peace. Counting stars.

My brother. Dead.

Well, that was going to change.

“Kelwyyn!” I screamed at the sky. “I don’t know how I did it before, but I’m summoning you now, goddamn it. I need your help!”

A bolt of pain split my head, and I was falling toward the ground. My eyes rolled back and closed just before my face hit the dirt.

“DeathSpeaker.”

I gasped and forced my eyes open to billowing green. For a minute I stayed where I was, trying to orient myself to the uniform insubstance of the Mists, before I pushed over and got my feet beneath me.

Kelwyyn watched with hands clasped in front of him, a sorrowful expression on his face. “I am so sorry to hear about —”

“Save it,” I said brusquely, not even bothering to ask how he knew. “I’m here because you’re going to help me. And I’m pretty sure you know what I want.”

His sorrow fell into astonishment. He struggled to recover, and stammered, “That is not possible.”

“Don’t give me that. I’m not interested in hearing about natural order, cosmic plans, or the goddamned circle of life. Or any other bullshit mystical clichés I know you’re about to spout at me.” My fists clenched at my sides. “You are going to help me.”

Kelwyyn’s lips thinned. There was still sadness in his gaze, but a spark of anger had joined it. “What makes you believe you’ve the right to demand such miracles?” he said. “Why should you—”

My arm flashed out of its own accord. I grabbed his tunic and hauled him off the ground, such as it was, bringing his face to mine. “You will tell me how to get what I want,” I growled. “Right fucking now.”

He stiffened. “Perhaps there is a way, after all.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” I put him down none too gently. “Tell me.”

He told me.

It wasn’t anything like what I expected, but I’d get it done. Somehow.

“Thank you,” I said in a slightly calmer tone when he finished.

The former DeathSpeaker frowned. “I’d rather you did not thank me,” he said. “Beyond my unease at revealing such a thing, I cannot help but feel that I’ve just sentenced you to death as well.”

I shrugged. “I’ll take my chances,” I said. “So, how do I get out of here?”

Kelwyyn gave a solemn nod and folded his hands again. “Close your eyes.”

I did. Almost instantly, a weightless sensation bloomed in my core and spread until I felt completely insubstantial, just a wisp of thought and intentions. The non-state lasted for a time I couldn’t measure, and then substance and feeling slammed through me again.

I opened my eyes in the desert.

My face was still pressed to the ground, and there was something on my shoulder. Someone’s hand. “Mmph,” I said, spitting sand from my mouth as I raised my head and blinked.

Calla was next to me, her tear-stained face pale and shaken. “What happened?” she said. “Are you hurt?”

I almost said no, but that would be a lie. Instead I ignored the question, sat up so she could see I wasn’t physically injured, and started brushing the sand off my clothes. “Just got a little dizzy,” I said. There was no way I could tell her where I’d been, what I was doing there, or what I had to do now. She’d want to help, but she couldn’t. Not this time.

Understanding and pity washed over her. “Here,” she said, handing me a canteen she must’ve found somewhere in the base. “You should try to stay hydrated. This is a desert, you know.”

I knew she was trying to make me feel better, and I attempted a dutiful smile. It didn’t quite catch, so I accepted the canteen instead. “Thank you,” I said as I twisted the top off. The water inside was cool and clean. I expected to take a token sip, just to make her happy, but I surprised myself by drinking most of it.

Apparently I was feeling better. At least a little.

“Sorry.” I handed the nearly empty container back to her and wiped my mouth. “Guess I was thirstier than I thought.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve already had plenty,” she said with the beginnings of a smile. But hers wouldn’t take, either. “We’re all going to head back into Roswell. We’re taking a jeep and one of the box trucks, so we can …” Her face fell.

I knew what she’d been about to say. So we can bring Taeral’s body. “It’s fine,” I said. “Really.”

She nodded, obviously fighting fresh tears. “Anyway,” she said on a shuddering breath. “I’ve arranged for a jet back home, and for a team to come out here and clean up this mess. NSA, not … them.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Rex is going to Pennsylvania with Chester. I’ll have a car ready to take them there, and your van is waiting at Fort Bennett.”

Listening to her, trying to process normal, everyday things like logistics and my van and home, was a real struggle. My mind was a million miles away, entirely focused on my brother and how I was going to fix this. But I couldn’t just blow her off. So I forced my attention back to the here-and-now, and gave it all to her. “Thank you for arranging all this,” I said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. You’re incredible.”

Her lips quivered into an approximation of a smile. “Do you need a few more minutes?” she said. “We can wait. That jet isn’t going anywhere without us.”

“No, I’m good.” I pushed off the ground and held a hand out to help her up. “Let’s take him home.”

Chapter 33

Someone knocked at the door to the library, or whatever the hell this room was. I’d never actually been in here before. “It’s open,” I called, and then picked up the shot glass I’d just filled with whiskey and knocked it back.

I didn’t really taste it. Hadn’t tasted the last eight shots, either. Or twelve, or twenty, or however many I’d had.

The door creaked open slowly, like it was sorry for disturbing me, and Abe walked through it. He stopped short when he caught sight of me. “Jesus Christ,” he blurted. “I came to see how you were holding up, but … Gideon, this is beyond not so good.”

“Holding up. Is that what I’m doing?” I grabbed for the fresh bottle I’d just opened and missed both of them. “I thought I was celebrating. We won, you know. Want a shot?”

Abe moved cautiously into the room and closed the door behind him. “You’re drunk.”

“See, this is why you’re the detective. I mean captain. You see the clues, and you put them together, and voila.” I made another flourishing grab, and this time I caught the neck of the bottle. I proceeded to slosh more whiskey onto the table than into the shot glass. “Yep,” I said. “I’m drunk.”

Without another word, Abe crossed the room and gently pried the bottle from my hand. “Evan Williams,” he said in a tone that was trying real hard to be casual. “Cheap, but it gets the job done.”

“Yeah. Taeral’s favorite.”

He winced when I said the name, but he fished a second shot glass out of the dusty wooden box on the table — the box I’d found shoved into the recesses of a cabinet in the kitchen, where Sadie had probably hidden it — and poured himself a slug. “All right,” he said. “Let’s drink.”

My hand shook as I reached for the glass I’d filled. I glared at it until it stopped, then picked up the shot and clinked it with Abe’s. “To victory,” I said.

He didn’t echo the sentiment. But he drank.

I dropped the shot glass on the table. It wobbled, tipped over and rolled off the edge to land with a soft thump on the floor. My bleary eyes tracked the movement and fixated on the cup sparkling from the carpet. Broken glass catching the moonlight. I had to clean it up so it wouldn’t cut him. He just needed the moon, and then everything would be okay.

“Gideon.”

A wrenching sob split the air. There was a pause while my brain worked out that the sound had come from me.

“Gideon,” Abe said again. “It’s okay to mourn.”

“I’m not mourning!” I jumped from the chair I’d been slumped in, staggered and nearly fell before I caught myself and forced the anger back. It wasn’t directed at him, and I couldn’t let it out. I needed it. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m celebrating,” I said. “Nobody else would celebrate with me, so thanks for having a drink.”

Abe stood there for a moment, looking at me. There was no judgment in his gaze. No pity. Nothing but pure human love, and pain — not his own, but mine. The pain he wanted to take from me and lessen my burden.

He opened his arms.

I managed to hold out for about ten seconds before I fell into them, and the floodgates burst.

It went on for a long time. When my broken sobbing finally trailed into shivery little breaths that were trying to come together, I stepped back and swiped at my eyes. It didn’t make much of a dent in the mess that was my face. “Ugh,” I said. “Man-tears.”

He smirked and produced a handkerchief from his pocket. I’d forgotten he carried those around.

“Thanks,” I said as I took it, and then paused. “Uh, you don’t want this back, do you?”

He held both hands up palms-out. “Go to town,” he said.

I wiped off the tears and snot, blew my nose loudly a few times. Nothing like a good ugly cry to clear the sinuses. And my head. For the first time since we’d gotten home last night, I felt focused again.

I already knew what I had to do. Now, it was just a matter of doing it.

“Better?” Abe said, watching me crumple the handkerchief and shove it in a pocket.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I exhaled slowly. “Sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

He patted my shoulder. “Don’t even think about apologizing for that,” he said. “I’m actually surprised you called as soon as you did, considering.”

Abe probably thought I had arrangements to make, a funeral to plan. But I’d really called him because I was leaving, tonight, and this time I couldn’t tell him about it. I’d only wanted to see him before I go. Just in case.

“So … do you need anything?” Abe said awkwardly, eyeing the open whiskey bottle, the two empties, and the four that were still full. “I mean other than booze, since I think you’ve got that covered.”

“Not really,” I said. “I’m just glad you came.”

“As if I wouldn’t.” He shook his head with a slanted smile. “Listen,” he said. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you haven’t eaten anything in … a while. Am I right?”

I made a sound that was almost a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.” Not since the jackrabbits and cactus surprise back in the tunnel. After that I’d been too busy, right up until the point where I stopped caring about things like food and breathing.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “I have to go back to the office for a few hours, but why don’t you come out to dinner with me when I’m done? Take some time to sober up — and definitely take a shower, okay?” His nose wrinkled slightly. “I’ll pick you up around seven. We don’t have to talk, if you’re not feeling up to it. Just eat.”

The actual smile on my face felt strange. “You know, that sounds really good,” I said.

“All right. See you then.”

He hugged me again, and I walked him to the door. Well, stumbled. By the time I saw him out, I was more or less steady on my feet as I made my way back through the house to my room, and my shower. Abe was right. I did not smell very pleasant.

While I hosed down and scrubbed off the filth, I thought about everything that happened since I got home, and everything I still had to do.

Holdrun hadn’t come with us. Good thing, because no one had asked him to. I didn’t know what he’d done, and I didn’t give a shit.

Grygg had taken the news about Taeral stoically, the way he took everything, but I could tell he was badly shaken. Eli hadn’t really understood at first. But when Sadie burst into tears while she was trying to explain, the little guy had cried with her. Even though he didn’t have the vocabulary to express how he felt, it came through loud and clear.

Daoin didn’t know. I had no idea how to tell him that I’d gotten the son he actually cared about killed, and part of me hoped I’d never have to. I didn’t think I’d be able to stand the look on his face when he found out Taeral was dead.

As for Sadie, I’d tried to comfort her the best I could, though I didn’t really know how. She insisted that she didn’t blame me for what happened — but I knew she did, on some level. It was impossible not to blame me. I was only alive because Taeral was dead. So now, whenever she looked at me, she’d see his body laid on a curtain beneath a shattered skylight, with broken glass as his litter. She’d see the reason Taeral would never wrap his arms around her again, never steal kisses when no one was looking, never drink himself into a stupor just to piss her off or swear brutal vengeance on anyone who harmed her. Never draw another breath.

That was just one of the many reasons I’d planned my little upcoming trip.

Sadie couldn’t come with me this time, either. She’d barely gotten out of bed since we came back, and even if she had the strength, I had a feeling she’d be opposed to my plan. She’d say it was too dangerous and she didn’t want to lose me too … even though deep down, I knew she’d trade me for him without a second thought.

Still, I didn’t think I’d end up going alone. I had someone in mind — two someones, actually — who’d told me they would always help me if I needed it. I was about to test that assertion. They would be ideal for this particular mission, considering where I had to go.

I suspected they’d at least understand what I was doing and why, though.

After all, they were brothers.

The water was starting to run cold when I turned off the shower, stepped out and dried off. Once I was dressed, I’d pack a bag so everything would be ready when I came back from dinner with Abe tonight. The Grotto should be open by then, and I wanted to leave as soon as possible.

I had to go see a god about my brother.

* * *

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More books by Sonya Bateman

THE DEATHSPEAKER CODEX series page

THE CURSING STONES (Avalon Rising, book 1)

IN THE SHADOW OF DRAGONS

The Gavyn Donatti series:

MASTER OF NONE

MASTER AND APPRENTICE

MASTER OF ELEMENTS

About the Author

Sonya Bateman lives in “scenic” Central New York, with its two glorious seasons: winter and road construction. She is the author of the DeathSpeaker Chronicles series and the Gavyn Donatti urban fantasy series (Master of None / Master and Apprentice) from Simon & Schuster, as well as several standalone titles. Under the pseudonym S.W. Vaughn, she’s the author of the Skin Deep paranormal M/M erotic romance series.

Contact her at sonyabateman.author@gmail.com, or like and post to her page on Facebook.