He knows I’m back.
I cradle his face. “I’m going to fix this.”
In response, the feral dragon nips at my hand, managing to draw blood. I break away from him, stumbling to where Everett still lies in a stupor.
Crouching, I try to get his attention, but his confused, pale blue gaze won’t latch onto me.
“You’re okay,” I assure him anyway, glancing around at the aftermath of the fight.
The male caster remains frozen. Both the female caster and the fire elemental now lie dead in puddles of blood with their ghosts hovering above them, wide-eyed as they stare at me. With fiends on the loose, it’s only a matter of time before the wind changes and carries the scent of their blood to monsters that will be drawn here.
Walking to the spot where my blade fell, I scoop to pick it up. It’s already in scythe form when I face the ghosts of the two legacies.
“May your afterlives suck ass,” I tell them before reaping their souls.
Moving back to Not-Baelfire, I take his leash and lead him into the temple, where I find Asher Dougas trying to heal his own arm, his forehead beaded in sweat and blood splattered all over the marble temple floor around him.
He sees Baelfire beside me and swears. “Keep that fucker away from me. Is Frost still alive?”
I nod.
“Good. I’d hate to lose a good paycheck after all this shit,” he grunts, grimacing.
Rolling my eyes, I drop Baelfire’s leash to go back out for Everett. “Watch my dragon.”
“Hey. No. That freak nearly ripped my arm off. Don’t fucking leave me alone with?—”
Ignoring his protests, I return to Everett and help the discombobulated elemental stumble back into the temple, where he collapses into one of the pews. Once we’re all safely in here, I turn toward the doors, take a deep breath, and try to use magic to seal them once again.
I don’t know holy magic spells, but casting in fae seemed to work a bit.
“Ima guth sigillum,”I recite.
Heat pulses in my veins, and the doors glow white briefly. When I try pulling them open, they remain locked, movable only by my voice.
I don’t realize I’m beaming at the proof that I can figure this shit out until Douglas grunts, “Your pet dragon just pissed in the corner. Pretty sure your aunt’s gonna smite him for that.”
My aunt?
Oh, right. As one of the three celestial triplets, Arati would be Syntyche’s younger triplet, alongside Sachar.
The thought of the queen of the gods being my auntie is too fucking weird, so I once again ignore the bounty hunter and hurry to Silas and Crypt.
Silas still sits as if he’s fallen into a dark meditation, eyes shut as magic slithers over his skin. Meanwhile, Crypt remains in a bizarrely restful state as the malediction ravages his mind.
Taking another deep breath, I will my holy magic to work as I step into the spell.
20
CRYPT
Crane getssick all over my subconscious as one of our keeper's worst memories-turned-nightmares plays before us. Wretched hands squeeze her throat as she lies naked and vulnerable in a barren bed, thrashing as tears leak over her temples.
“Anything else,” Crane demands raggedly, wiping his mouth and swatting at something that exists in his head, as he keeps doing. “Remember anything else butthis.”
“One fluffy unicorn-filled prance through Paradise, coming right up,” I reply blankly, trying to numb myself further when the Entity himself arrives as a faceless shadow in this dream of a memory.
But it’s futile. My keeper’s past sobs seep through the emotional barricade, cutting me.
