Outside, the rain has turned torrential. It’s a miserable, grey curtain that swallows visibility, which works in my favour. I spot the trio ahead, huddled under umbrellas likeblack mushrooms sprouting from the tarmac. They’re heading straight for the graveyard.
I stick to the shadows of the shop fronts, moving with a fluidity that feels foreign. Before, I was good. Now? I’m a ghost. My feet make no sound on the slick pavement, and my breathing remains steady despite the rapid pace.
They turn up the track toward the old church. I hang back, ducking behind a dripping oak tree, expecting them to enter through the rusted iron gates. Instead, they stride past and aim for the path that leads to… Marrow House.
“What the fuck?” I mutter and move forward.
Marrow House. Thesiteis not the crypt? Since when?
Or are there now two breaks in the veil? Was the original site from centuries ago, where Marrow House stands now? That would explain why the gods were drawn to it. Voren in particular. There aren’t just old ghosts hanging around there. There will be enough residual energy from the banishment to power a fucking nuclear station until the end of time.
Of course. It’s always the creepy mansion on the hill. I should have guessed.
Panic claws at my throat. If Taye gets within sniffing distance of the front door, she won’t just smell a fox; she’ll smell three varieties of ancient deity and me.
I skirt the hedgerow, ignoring the brambles snagging my leggings. The stolen journal digs into my hip bone like a dull knife, a constant reminder of my treason. Rain lashes my face, blurring my vision as Finnian stops at the rusted gates.
“It’s thickest here,” Taye shrills, pointing a gloved finger at the peeling façade of the mansion. “Like ozone and rot. It tastes like... ash.”
The heavy oak front door of Marrow House creaks open.
Taye places her hand over her heart as I strain to see who opened the door. But no one is there.
“Just the wind and loose hinges,” Cormac grumbles, dismissing it. “Come on, let’s hurry this up a bit. I’m soaked.”
They push through the iron gate and circle around to the back of the house.
I follow, feeling eyes on me. I look up and see Dreven at the window, glaring down at the four of us intruding on their property.
I shrug and wave my hand about as if that explains what the hell I’m doing here.
He doesn’t seem to understand because he glowers at me like he wants to skin me alive. I ignore him and sneak around the side of the house to see the Order heading towards the lake. Taye is swaying like she’s gone into a trance, and I curse under my breath.
This is not good.
I flatten myself against the wet stone of the house, peering around the corner. The lake looks deceptively normal under the slate-grey sky, ripples dancing across the surface from the downpour. But I know better. That water has seen things.Feltthings. Considering Dastian turned it into a tropical jacuzzi not twenty-four hours ago, it’s probably radioactive with chaos magic.
Taye drops to her knees in the mud, her umbrella tumbling away like a discarded shield. She plunges her bare hands into the freezing water before Cormac can stop her.
“It burns!” she shrieks, scrambling back as if the water bit her.
“Don’t be daft, woman, it’s three degrees out,” Cormac snaps, though he retreats a step, eyeing the shoreline warily.
“Not heat,” Finnian corrects, his voice sharp. He draws a silver flask from his coat and pours a drop into the lake.
The water hisses violently, spitting red steam that smells like lightning and popping candy.
My stomach drops. That’s the scent of Dastian’s magic.
“Corruption,” Taye gasps, clutching her chest, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Raw, unfiltered chaos. It’s been… used.”
Used.That’s one word for it.
I hold my breath, crouching down.
“Right,” Cormac says with a huff. “I’m not sensing any veil breaks. Are you, Finnian?”
He shakes his head but slowly, almost reluctantly, like he wanted to find something.
