“Or some shrimp tacos fromTu Tia Loca,” I retort.
Malik lets out a painful, muted groan. He’s seated across fromus between Kaiden and Rhett. “Or a burger and a cold beer.”
“Or a juicy steak and a salad,” Kaiden chimes in. They all look as exhausted as I feel, with cuts and various bruises marring their faces and bodies. Every time Kaiden glances at the side of my face, where that asshole punched me, his jaw—which is still swollen—turns into an iron bar of tension.
“A salad? Dude,” Sam scoffs. “Salad as a comfort food is a fucking crime against humanity.”
“Throw some mac and cheese at me, and I’ll be a happy camper.” We all turn toward Rhett, who did a piss-poor attempt at a Southern accent. A good chunk of his left eyebrow and the lower half of his shirt have been burned off in the fight. At least he still has eyelashes.
I huff a laugh. “How very American of you.”
“Are you going to finally tell us what that prophecy said?” Kaiden inquires, his tone losing all traces of humor.
I flick my gaze to the two soldiers guarding our wheeled cell at the rear of the small convoy. They’re on the verge of nodding off in their saddles, so I don’t think they’re listening. Glancing down at Thalia, I observe the steady rise and fall of her chest. I’ve been worried that talking about the prophecy would agitate her, given everything that happened after…But if I’m being completely honest, that is just an excuse. I don’t want to talk about the prophecy because the implications are a bitter pill to swallow—scratch that, they’re more a boulder the size of China.
Swallowing thickly, I finally say, “Yeah.”
I recite the prophecy for them. I’ve repeated it so many times in my head these past days, trying to decipher its meaning, that I know it by heart.
“Daughter of Starlight and Shadows…where have I heard that before?” Sam asks when I finish.
“It’s from the book about ancient demons Iris bargained for with a dark witch,” Kaiden cuts in. I can almost feel the wheelsspinning in his head at the speed of light while his brows furrow.
“Oh yeah. What did it say again?”
Kaiden recites it before I can:
“‘Beware of the shadow that lurks in the dead of the night. It whispers of forgotten souls and eclipses the light of life.
“‘Beware of the nocturnal wind that carries the mournful wails of those denied peaceful rest.
“‘Beware the dying breath, for the umbra seeks to ensnare those who linger between worlds, compelling them to a never-ending, soul-stealing twilight.
“‘No escape shall be granted, for the umbra’s grip tightens, and the stolen souls become eternally entwined in the ominous dance of celestial thievery.
“‘A cosmic cataclysm, foretold in the shadows and unleashed at the hands of the Harbinger of Death, the Daughter of Starlight and Shadows.’”
“The twenty-third circle of life,” Sam muses, quoting Thalia’s prophecy. The color in her cheeks drains in slow increments. “Wait…you’re twenty-three. The umbra came through the Hell portal right on the night of your birthday. And when Erik attacked you at Sin, you said shadows started emanating from your body.”
I nod, my lips pressed into a tight line.
“I don’t like where this is going,” she continues, worry etched in the lines around her mouth. “But, Iris, what ifyouare the Daughter of Starlight and Shadows?”
“The night Adrianna saved me, while I blacked out, I had another memory flashback. I was unintentionally eavesdropping on a conversation she and my mother were having when I was a kid. They were looking for an oracle because a seraph warned Mom about the prophecy…and she was desperate, I could tell. She said it was already difficult keeping me hidden because of my rising power.”
Kaiden’s accusing gaze grates on my skin like sandpaper. “You didn’t say anything.”
I huff. “And why should I? Because I trust you wholeheartedly?” I tilt my chin and raise an eyebrow at the way his nostrils flare. But his anger is only a thinly veiled mask because, behind it, there’s something else—pure, unadulterated fear.
So, he figured it out. At least, now I know he didn’t lie about this, too, because there’s also shock there. But what if he—
“When I first sent you the translation of the Enochian text, you said you weren’t sure what it meant. Did you suspect it had something to do with me?” I blurt out.
He sucks on his teeth but doesn’t say a word.
“That’s what I thought. Another lie to add to the list,” I snark. And once again, I’m bleeding.
“I didn’t lie,” he counters.
